So my biggest pet peeve was always people who are unaware of where they are in space. So the people at the mall or take up the entire walkway and walk at a glacial pace. The idiots backing out of the parking lot that pause halfway out of their spot so that you can't go around them because they are still technically backing up. The assholes in the grocery store that stand staring at canned vegetables for an hour with their cart in the middle of the aisle so you can't get by with your already screaming toddler. These people. I can't stand these people. You know who you are!
I have a new pet peeve that may be exceeding this one rapidly= people who don't know their audience. Well that's not entirely accurate. I don't care if you genuinely don't know who you're talking to but if you know someone's story and still talk to them about it like you don't then I hate you completely. If you know your friend has breast cancer and talk to them about how much you hate your boobs, then screw you. If you know someone in the room has just gotten a divorce and you still go on and on about how in love you are or how hard it is out there and how glad you are that you are now engaged and will never have to date again, then you should be stoned. And if you know that I have had a miscarriage and you tell me, "Eva is getting so big, time for another one Jane, don't you think?!" or "I am so over being pregnant right now"... I seriously may never speak to you again. Which maybe that's your goal? If so, congrats.
It bothers me also, but maybe not quite as much since I have made it public info in a way, when you ask me how trying to get pregnant is going. If you say, "So you guys are trying again. How are you feeling about it all?", then I love you. You are a true friend that wants to see how my head is on and check in to make sure I am not losing my mind with worry. That is fine. When you ask me, "do you think you may be pregnant yet?" and I tell you, "I don't want to speculate. I don't want to do that to myself. So all I know is that no, I am not currently pregnant" don't continue probing me for information. I am not lying. I do not want to play that game. I don't care if it is your way of showing your hopes for us, it's inappropriate and not appreciated. All you are doing is pushing me to the brink of insanity over an already stressful issue for us. If you push me on this issue then you are putting yourself on the list as one more person I will disappoint when I get my period on time. Is that your intentions? If not, then take my word for it and stop asking. You will be informed when we feel it is the right time to inform you, not on your agenda of wanting to be in the know. If that is your intentions than it has been nice knowing you and this is where our paths divide. Period.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 7, 2011: 3007 HPTs Later
Three days late now.
In theory, you're supposed to use your first morning urine to test for pregnancy because it had the highest concentration of the pregnancy hormones. So I took another home pregnancy test this morning. The last digital one in the pack. I bit open the package for the test strip and thought "please let this read positive", but then I caught myself and put an asterisk on that: "Please let this read positive. * if it is MEANT to be positive. Let this read positive if it will be a positive result. If I will carry this baby to term, let it tell me I'm pregnant. Don't let it tell me I am going to have a baby in the Spring if I am going to lose that joy in a few weeks. If it will be right, let it be right...".
It was negative.
Two hours later, I got my period.
In theory, you're supposed to use your first morning urine to test for pregnancy because it had the highest concentration of the pregnancy hormones. So I took another home pregnancy test this morning. The last digital one in the pack. I bit open the package for the test strip and thought "please let this read positive", but then I caught myself and put an asterisk on that: "Please let this read positive. * if it is MEANT to be positive. Let this read positive if it will be a positive result. If I will carry this baby to term, let it tell me I'm pregnant. Don't let it tell me I am going to have a baby in the Spring if I am going to lose that joy in a few weeks. If it will be right, let it be right...".
It was negative.
Two hours later, I got my period.
September 6, 2011: Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Praying
What are the odds?
It could have ONLY been that time. After midnight. Just hours before my father in law passed. That was days after I was supposedly ovulating. What are the chances?
Slim to none is how I feel about it.
However, sometime that morning I woke up with a cramp. I didn't look at the clock so I don't know what time it was and I'm not so out of my mind to think it was the exact moment John passed that an intrauterine cramp woke me out of my sleep indicating we possibly made a baby. But I didn't have gas and I still don't have by period. What was that cramp?
I took a home pregnancy test five days ago. It was negative.
I am exhausted. But then again it is rainy and dreary.
I am sick to my stomach off and on. But then again I have post-nasal drip from allergies that could be making me nauseous.
My boobs feel full. But then again they're not "hurts to brush my teeth" sore and I could just be getting my period.
My nipples look funny. But then again...no I'm pretty positive they don't always look like that!
I took another test Sunday. Negative.
Took one yesterday and I could have sworn I saw a faint line, but Matt said he didn't so I went and bought a digital pack. Took it. "Not Pregnant"
I took another digital one this morning. "Not Pregnant".
So I'm beginning to think I am just driving myself crazy and hoping against reality.
But then I realized that If I AM pregnant, I'd be due in May. That's a fine month to have a baby. So I calculated the exact due date. And if I conceived on the day Matt's father died (which again is the only possible date) then I am due, May 12th, which just happens to be the day that MY father was born....
See what I'm saying....?
It could have ONLY been that time. After midnight. Just hours before my father in law passed. That was days after I was supposedly ovulating. What are the chances?
Slim to none is how I feel about it.
However, sometime that morning I woke up with a cramp. I didn't look at the clock so I don't know what time it was and I'm not so out of my mind to think it was the exact moment John passed that an intrauterine cramp woke me out of my sleep indicating we possibly made a baby. But I didn't have gas and I still don't have by period. What was that cramp?
I took a home pregnancy test five days ago. It was negative.
I am exhausted. But then again it is rainy and dreary.
I am sick to my stomach off and on. But then again I have post-nasal drip from allergies that could be making me nauseous.
My boobs feel full. But then again they're not "hurts to brush my teeth" sore and I could just be getting my period.
My nipples look funny. But then again...no I'm pretty positive they don't always look like that!
I took another test Sunday. Negative.
Took one yesterday and I could have sworn I saw a faint line, but Matt said he didn't so I went and bought a digital pack. Took it. "Not Pregnant"
I took another digital one this morning. "Not Pregnant".
So I'm beginning to think I am just driving myself crazy and hoping against reality.
But then I realized that If I AM pregnant, I'd be due in May. That's a fine month to have a baby. So I calculated the exact due date. And if I conceived on the day Matt's father died (which again is the only possible date) then I am due, May 12th, which just happens to be the day that MY father was born....
See what I'm saying....?
September 6, 2011: Seeking Comfort
As I said in August, we had plans to try again to get pregnant but they were all messed up so we decided to just put it off one more month. That was the new plan. And of course, as plans tend to go...
Matt's father, John, had been very ill with inoperable esophageal cancer that has metastasized to his liver for many months. My father in law was diagnosed in January of this year, but was sick for quite awhile before that. The first round of chemo went very well. Much better than anyone had hoped or expected. By March, he seemed like a new man, a healthy man with a positive outlook. By May, the tables had turned and John was in and out of the hospital with a variety of symptoms that made the situation appear increasingly grim and sinister. By July he had decided to end treatment. Matt spent the majority of summer weekends at his dad's house in Lancaster. When we left for South Carolina in August, Matt had said what he needed to say and was at peace with the concept that he may not see his father again. He lived on edge all vacation waiting for the phone to ring with his brother, mother or step-mother on the other end telling him he needed to come home.
The phone rang with that phone call after a week on vacation. John was in a hospice facility and was still alive but it was really bad and he wanted to see Matt. We ran off the beach, packed up in a frenzy and threw all of our stuff, Eva, and Brady into the car and headed home to face the end.
We stopped in Richmond over night and got to the hospice center by Sunday afternoon. John was in and out of clarity all Sunday but made clear eye contact, squeezed our hands when we held his and made attempts to talk to us when we all spoke our goodbyes and "i love you"s. We stayed in the Lancaster area Sunday night and saw him again Monday morning. He was no longer alert by the time we headed home.
That Monday was very rough for Matt. He was filled with so much anxious energy waiting for that phone to rings telling him he was at peace that he simply couldn't and wouldn't sit still. He was exhausted from driving and tried to go to sleep early but couldn't. I offered him a Tylenol PM and he refused it. Sometime after midnight, in the earliest moments of Tuesday, August 23rd, Matt reached for me for some comfort and our plans to wait a month fell to the side.
My father in law passed at 6:30 on August 23, 2011.
The call came along with a sense of finality for all of us. We expected it, but it still wasn't fair. Eva has lost two of her grandfathers. How could that EVER be fair? Matt's nervous anxiety continued that entire week leading up to the services. No one quite knew what to do with themselves. John had made most of the arrangements himself, which was a blessing at the same time it was a curse. There just wasn't anything for anyone to do to busy themselves.
The services on the following Saturday were beautiful. A true firefighter's tribute. He would have been so proud and so pleased!
Today is Tuesday, September 6th. This date is notable for two reasons.
1. It has been 2 weeks since my father in law passed.
2. I am now two days late...
Matt's father, John, had been very ill with inoperable esophageal cancer that has metastasized to his liver for many months. My father in law was diagnosed in January of this year, but was sick for quite awhile before that. The first round of chemo went very well. Much better than anyone had hoped or expected. By March, he seemed like a new man, a healthy man with a positive outlook. By May, the tables had turned and John was in and out of the hospital with a variety of symptoms that made the situation appear increasingly grim and sinister. By July he had decided to end treatment. Matt spent the majority of summer weekends at his dad's house in Lancaster. When we left for South Carolina in August, Matt had said what he needed to say and was at peace with the concept that he may not see his father again. He lived on edge all vacation waiting for the phone to ring with his brother, mother or step-mother on the other end telling him he needed to come home.
The phone rang with that phone call after a week on vacation. John was in a hospice facility and was still alive but it was really bad and he wanted to see Matt. We ran off the beach, packed up in a frenzy and threw all of our stuff, Eva, and Brady into the car and headed home to face the end.
We stopped in Richmond over night and got to the hospice center by Sunday afternoon. John was in and out of clarity all Sunday but made clear eye contact, squeezed our hands when we held his and made attempts to talk to us when we all spoke our goodbyes and "i love you"s. We stayed in the Lancaster area Sunday night and saw him again Monday morning. He was no longer alert by the time we headed home.
That Monday was very rough for Matt. He was filled with so much anxious energy waiting for that phone to rings telling him he was at peace that he simply couldn't and wouldn't sit still. He was exhausted from driving and tried to go to sleep early but couldn't. I offered him a Tylenol PM and he refused it. Sometime after midnight, in the earliest moments of Tuesday, August 23rd, Matt reached for me for some comfort and our plans to wait a month fell to the side.
My father in law passed at 6:30 on August 23, 2011.
The call came along with a sense of finality for all of us. We expected it, but it still wasn't fair. Eva has lost two of her grandfathers. How could that EVER be fair? Matt's nervous anxiety continued that entire week leading up to the services. No one quite knew what to do with themselves. John had made most of the arrangements himself, which was a blessing at the same time it was a curse. There just wasn't anything for anyone to do to busy themselves.
The services on the following Saturday were beautiful. A true firefighter's tribute. He would have been so proud and so pleased!
Today is Tuesday, September 6th. This date is notable for two reasons.
1. It has been 2 weeks since my father in law passed.
2. I am now two days late...
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Preschool "Eve-a"
As I look at her right now, I feel like I am living one of those car commercials where the dad is leaning in the passenger side window giving the "rules of the road" riot act to a 3 year old in the driver's seat only for her to turn into a teenager in the next frame. How is she old enough to go to preschool tomorrow???
She will be going to the University of Delaware's Laboratory Preschool two mornings a week. This school is run by the Early Childhood Department at UD, which is the program I graduated from and currently work for. As an undergrad, I did observations in all the classrooms and had a field placement in the Kindergarten. Designed as an Early Education research facility, the classrooms each have connecting observation booths where observers and researchers can go and conduct their business without interrupting the flow of the class or stealing the precious attention of the young children. In order to assist these individuals there to research, each child has a name tag on their backs so that if someone comes in and starts a project on "Jack" they can easily locate him when they come back next week. I clearly remember staring at these name tags while doing observations in college. They are smaller than the back of a toddler, so maybe 4 inches across and the names are written in gorgeous teacher handwriting, but regardless, nothing can make a 13 digit name fit comfortably on one of these tags. I will admit to considering this when we chose Eva's name. Three letters. It would fit very nicely.
I put Eva on the wait list for the 2011/2012 Two-Year-Old class when she was six months old. I was late to do this. She was WAY down on the list! Good thing I am an alumni and current employee! PHEW!
So tomorrow is the day. I already paid this month's tuition. I turned in her health appraisal and all paperwork already. We completed her "family photo book" homework weeks ago. Matt is taking the day off of work. She will wear her "back to school" Hello Kitty tshirt and secure sneakers. Her Winnie the Pooh backpack will be packed by bedtime tonight and will be hung with a hoodie by the door. A snack and juice cup will be prepped in the fridge for easy morning access. We will probably have to wake her up tomorrow morning because that's what the trend is. If we have somewhere to go early, she wants to sleep in. We will give her a hearty breakfast that she will resist eating (she isn't much of a breakfast eater) and take her "first day of school" picture. We we drive to UD as a family and hold her hand as she walks to her classroom, excited to be at school. We will help her put her things in her cubby, greet Miss Debbie and Miss Terry (the current student teacher) and get oriented. And then we will kiss her goodbye, tell her we love her infinity very muches and are so very proud of her. We will walk out the door as two proud parents and step into that observation booth. We'll watch them put on her "Eva" name tag.
We are prepared for tears. I think ours will be bigger than hers...
Monday, August 29, 2011
The best made plans...
So we decided it would be as stress free as possible entering the mode of babymaking again if we started to try while we were on vacation. I would be ovulating smack in the middle of our trip so we decided that would be as good a time as any to let the games begin.
We got to our Fripp Island vacation house and the front door doesn't lock. It locks from the outside but there is no way to keep our 2 year old escape artist from getting out from the inside of the house. Panicked by her love for the beach, only a few steps away, I decided I didn't feel safe leaving her in a room of her own where I couldn't turn the doorknobs around in order to lock her in all night. So we moved her mattress to the floor of our room...
Not exactly a "game on" set up!
So we will wait again. I am hoping that I will still feel as brave this time next month as I did heading out for our vacation. I hope I am up for all the downsides as well as the upsides to trying a few weeks from now. But I have to admit, my courage feels wobbly...
We got to our Fripp Island vacation house and the front door doesn't lock. It locks from the outside but there is no way to keep our 2 year old escape artist from getting out from the inside of the house. Panicked by her love for the beach, only a few steps away, I decided I didn't feel safe leaving her in a room of her own where I couldn't turn the doorknobs around in order to lock her in all night. So we moved her mattress to the floor of our room...
Not exactly a "game on" set up!
So we will wait again. I am hoping that I will still feel as brave this time next month as I did heading out for our vacation. I hope I am up for all the downsides as well as the upsides to trying a few weeks from now. But I have to admit, my courage feels wobbly...
Friday, August 12, 2011
Un-planning a year
As I mentioned in the last post, Matt and I were left in the hospital room for an hour and we cried for half of it. When the sobs slowed to a halt, my mind started quietly swimming at a frantic pace. It's amazing how much you unknowingly plan for the upcoming year when you see that positive sign on the pregnancy test. I hadn't done it consciously, and neither had Matt. But now we were in the situation we were in and it all came crashing down. We had to un-plan a year of happiness in the face of personal loss.
Shit, did we do the right thing taking such a hit on the sale of our house? We were desperate at the time, but are we still? Nothing we could do about it now. I guess I can cancel that meeting with my boss to tell him I am expecting and what my plan is for the course I teach since I am due mid-semester. I guess I don't need a new car. I was going to get a 7 seater. Now that just seems silly. I need to call and cancel that first trimester screening (when I did this, I had to say, "I had a miscarriage" 3 times to the receptionist because she was older than dust and couldn't hear what I was saying as the reason for cancellation. You're fired!). I guess we don't need to worry about moving Eva to a toddler bed yet because we won't need the crib. I guess I don't have to rush to potty train her because I won't have two in diapers. I guess I can drink coffee and eat sugar again. Shit, I just resigned from my extended maternity leave because I was expecting a baby. I guess that's just as well. I guess I won't have to stop to pee a thousand times on the way to South Carolina this summer. I guess that's a good thing. I guess I can go see Brooke after she has Sydney now because I won't be in my 3rd trimester. I guess I won't need to ask about recommendations for double strollers because I bet Eva won't want to sit in one by the time we have a baby now. I guess I can return that new expensive monitor because I won't need to add a camera anytime soon...
The list was endless and I am still adding new things to it to this day.
Let me say this: I am an early childhood special education teacher. In fact, I have spent the last year teaching a senior level course at the University of Delaware about early childhood special education. I literally teach people how much can go wrong during a pregnancy and what that can look like. I spent my first year teaching children with profound multiple disabilities. One of these students was missing a huge part of his frontal lobe, was deaf-blind and had seizure disorder. The slightest touch (because he had no way of knowing you were coming) would send him into a five minute seizure. So I know. I am very aware that nature takes a course and that babies that are miscarried this early in a pregnancy are generally not viable. So the educated part of me can rationalize that I had a feeling early on that something was wrong because something was. That I measured small in that first ultrasound because the baby wasn't developing right from the start. That something was wrong in its tiny little chromosomes that didn't give it or me a fighting chance. Part of me knows this very well.
The other part of me shoots back to the feeling I had when we started trying to conceive Eva. I just had this feeling-no, it wasn't a feeling, it was a knowledge-I just had this knowledge that it wouldn't be easy breezy for us to have the family we wanted. I didn't have the coziest pregnancy or labor with Eva, that's true, but we have a beautiful daughter who we could not adore more than we do, but we know we don't want her alone in this. She needs to have a sibling and it didn't go well the first go around. Will it ever go well? Was this a result of my pelvic issue? When they warned me in passing about possibly fertility issues was it more than a warning? Was it a promise? Eva was born 5 weeks early. Why? Could my body not hold her in? Can I not hold anything in now? When I got to maternity triage and they confirmed my impending miscarriage, they also said it wouldn't be long before the process was complete because I was already dilating. So which came first? Did I dilate and that caused me to lose the baby or did I lose the baby and that caused me to dilate? What if I can't have a baby again? What does that mean for us? For me? For my family? For my Eva?
When I had the miscarriage in April, someone close to me went as far as to suggest I brought it on myself. That wasn't the way it was worded to me, but it was the general point she was making. If I put out the negative energy that something would go wrong somewhere down the line, then I would bring it towards myself. Now, don't go getting all defensive on my behalf. It was a knife to my soul and it still is, but I saw her point and understood it. I obviously believe in energy, as you know, I survey rooms all the time. But I also believe energy doesn't work that way. I don't think the universe is set up to punish a mother for wanting a child. For that reason alone, I know I didn't bring this on myself. Whether this is the only miscarriage I will have or if I have several coming for me, I don't know, but either way I did nothing to cause it. No amount of negative intuition or cups of half-caff or pieces of pizza or warm baths or that glass of wine the night after we conceived did this. I know this for sure. I have peace in that.
I miscarried in April 2011. A lot has happened since then. We have moved to our dream home in Pennsylvania in a great school district with over an acre of land. We have made a home. Eva turned two and is a blossoming bundle of personality. She is so much easier to tote around and I enjoy taking her places and teaching her through every new experience, whether it's another trip to Target or her first time to the zoo. I LOVE TWO YEARS OLD! She is such great company these days that I am glad I get to focus on her right now and enjoy every moment of this age and THIS child. We are leaving today for our annual family trip to Fripp Island, South Carolina. Eva loved the beach last year and I have no doubt she will make this family vacation one to remember.
And that brings us to current day and to why I started this blog in the first place. This will be my last public post to facebook. I needed an outlet to move the pain I feel everyday that hides behind my eyes and smile as a result of the loss of this child off of my heart and back into the universe. We were told we should wait 3 menstrual cycles before we tried again. We've waited much longer than that. The loss of our 11/11/11 baby was a blow we couldn't bounce back from in just three months. We simply weren't ready. I may get pregnant easily when we are trying again and I may not. I may carry this next baby to full-term and I may not. We will either have another child or we will have trouble. And now, we're ready to know which way the coin will fall...
Shit, did we do the right thing taking such a hit on the sale of our house? We were desperate at the time, but are we still? Nothing we could do about it now. I guess I can cancel that meeting with my boss to tell him I am expecting and what my plan is for the course I teach since I am due mid-semester. I guess I don't need a new car. I was going to get a 7 seater. Now that just seems silly. I need to call and cancel that first trimester screening (when I did this, I had to say, "I had a miscarriage" 3 times to the receptionist because she was older than dust and couldn't hear what I was saying as the reason for cancellation. You're fired!). I guess we don't need to worry about moving Eva to a toddler bed yet because we won't need the crib. I guess I don't have to rush to potty train her because I won't have two in diapers. I guess I can drink coffee and eat sugar again. Shit, I just resigned from my extended maternity leave because I was expecting a baby. I guess that's just as well. I guess I won't have to stop to pee a thousand times on the way to South Carolina this summer. I guess that's a good thing. I guess I can go see Brooke after she has Sydney now because I won't be in my 3rd trimester. I guess I won't need to ask about recommendations for double strollers because I bet Eva won't want to sit in one by the time we have a baby now. I guess I can return that new expensive monitor because I won't need to add a camera anytime soon...
The list was endless and I am still adding new things to it to this day.
Let me say this: I am an early childhood special education teacher. In fact, I have spent the last year teaching a senior level course at the University of Delaware about early childhood special education. I literally teach people how much can go wrong during a pregnancy and what that can look like. I spent my first year teaching children with profound multiple disabilities. One of these students was missing a huge part of his frontal lobe, was deaf-blind and had seizure disorder. The slightest touch (because he had no way of knowing you were coming) would send him into a five minute seizure. So I know. I am very aware that nature takes a course and that babies that are miscarried this early in a pregnancy are generally not viable. So the educated part of me can rationalize that I had a feeling early on that something was wrong because something was. That I measured small in that first ultrasound because the baby wasn't developing right from the start. That something was wrong in its tiny little chromosomes that didn't give it or me a fighting chance. Part of me knows this very well.
The other part of me shoots back to the feeling I had when we started trying to conceive Eva. I just had this feeling-no, it wasn't a feeling, it was a knowledge-I just had this knowledge that it wouldn't be easy breezy for us to have the family we wanted. I didn't have the coziest pregnancy or labor with Eva, that's true, but we have a beautiful daughter who we could not adore more than we do, but we know we don't want her alone in this. She needs to have a sibling and it didn't go well the first go around. Will it ever go well? Was this a result of my pelvic issue? When they warned me in passing about possibly fertility issues was it more than a warning? Was it a promise? Eva was born 5 weeks early. Why? Could my body not hold her in? Can I not hold anything in now? When I got to maternity triage and they confirmed my impending miscarriage, they also said it wouldn't be long before the process was complete because I was already dilating. So which came first? Did I dilate and that caused me to lose the baby or did I lose the baby and that caused me to dilate? What if I can't have a baby again? What does that mean for us? For me? For my family? For my Eva?
When I had the miscarriage in April, someone close to me went as far as to suggest I brought it on myself. That wasn't the way it was worded to me, but it was the general point she was making. If I put out the negative energy that something would go wrong somewhere down the line, then I would bring it towards myself. Now, don't go getting all defensive on my behalf. It was a knife to my soul and it still is, but I saw her point and understood it. I obviously believe in energy, as you know, I survey rooms all the time. But I also believe energy doesn't work that way. I don't think the universe is set up to punish a mother for wanting a child. For that reason alone, I know I didn't bring this on myself. Whether this is the only miscarriage I will have or if I have several coming for me, I don't know, but either way I did nothing to cause it. No amount of negative intuition or cups of half-caff or pieces of pizza or warm baths or that glass of wine the night after we conceived did this. I know this for sure. I have peace in that.
I miscarried in April 2011. A lot has happened since then. We have moved to our dream home in Pennsylvania in a great school district with over an acre of land. We have made a home. Eva turned two and is a blossoming bundle of personality. She is so much easier to tote around and I enjoy taking her places and teaching her through every new experience, whether it's another trip to Target or her first time to the zoo. I LOVE TWO YEARS OLD! She is such great company these days that I am glad I get to focus on her right now and enjoy every moment of this age and THIS child. We are leaving today for our annual family trip to Fripp Island, South Carolina. Eva loved the beach last year and I have no doubt she will make this family vacation one to remember.
And that brings us to current day and to why I started this blog in the first place. This will be my last public post to facebook. I needed an outlet to move the pain I feel everyday that hides behind my eyes and smile as a result of the loss of this child off of my heart and back into the universe. We were told we should wait 3 menstrual cycles before we tried again. We've waited much longer than that. The loss of our 11/11/11 baby was a blow we couldn't bounce back from in just three months. We simply weren't ready. I may get pregnant easily when we are trying again and I may not. I may carry this next baby to full-term and I may not. We will either have another child or we will have trouble. And now, we're ready to know which way the coin will fall...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Nothingness
At first the bleeding was spots of brown. That's not abnormal. While this never happened while I was pregnant with Eva, I did know several mothers that bled brown and knew from their experiences that it was a release of old trapped period blood, which is disgusting, but not dangerous. But, when it was paired with the increasing sinking feeling in my stomach that accompanied this knowledge that something was wrong, it was just more clues from the universe that I would lose this baby, that maybe it was never mine to have in the first place. Just some tragic cosmic error.
For a few days, I found myself holding my urine. I would need to pee and put it off for sometimes an hour or more out of the complete terror of what would be revealed with each subsequent wipe. It was a horrible state of anxiety to live in.
During these few days, I suddenly started having friends email or text or call me telling me they just had a hunch I was pregnant. They wanted to know if their hunches were accurate. What was I supposed to say? I was only 8 weeks along, well before I would have wanted to make this news public information anyway and here I am on the brink of losing the baby. Was I supposed to say yes? Was I to lie and say no and jinx myself in the off chance I wasn't going to lose this baby? If I said no, would fate shift and cause me to miscarry something I wasn't supposed to lose? I will never ask someone if they are pregnant regardless of what my hunch or intuition tells me because of having this experience. I know they meant no harm, their curiosity was peaked by one thing or another, and they wanted to be in the know. I have done this in the past, but I won't put anyone else in this position. In the end, I told the truth. I said I was pregnant, but didn't know how long I would be. How were these friends meant to respond? "Congrats"? Hardly.
After about 3 days of this brown blood, the anxiety of what would happen and when was eased. Red. Just a streak within the brown, but it was bright red. This wasn't old period blood. This was new blood. A few hours later into the evening I started cramping.
I warned Matt that I thought I was losing the baby. He told me to go lie down, probably for a dual purpose. He wanted me and that possibility out of sight and out of mind and he also was desperate to believe I was overreacting. But he knew deep down I wouldn't have cried wolf about something like that. It terrified him.
I texted my mom, my sister and best friend. My exact text was, "I am losing the baby. I am not overreacting. I don't want to talk about it right now. I will call the doctor first thing in the morning". And I put the phone down to charge for the night and I cried myself to sleep.
I did call the doctor in the morning. I was still holding out some hope that they'd tell me it was normal and to come in for an exam but that they weren't concerned. That's not what they said. They sent me straight to the hospital to Maternity Triage. My friend came and watched Eva, gave me a hug and sent me on my way to meet Matt at the hospital.
We waited forever. Lots of babies being born that day.
Finally, we were brought back to an exam room and the doctor arrived and started the ultrasound. I didn't bother surveying the energy in the room. My body wasn't lying to me. It was in a low-grade state of labor. Matt held out nervous hope though. I could tell by the strength with which he held my hand as he focused on that ultrasound screen, willing it to show him a healthy child. At one point he mumbled something like, "I see it", but the doctor grimaced and the exam was over quickly. It was there, but it's tiny heart no longer beat.
Matt and I collapsed into a grief I simply can't describe and hope none of you have to know. All I really remember clearly was holding Matt's face still so he would hold my eye contact so I could tell him through sobs that I was sorry I couldn't save it. So so sorry.
The doctor left us alone for an hour. We cried for half of that and then just stared at each other with a mutual acknowledgement of how hollowed out we felt suddenly. Then I was taken to radiology for thorough ultrasound so that one more person could tell me our November baby was gone. At the ultrasound I had before this, they told me the baby was measuring 6 weeks, 1 day. Now, a week later, it measured 6 weeks, 3 days. 2 days after I saw that precious heartbeat, it stopped.
I was given 3 options:
1. Get a DNC, which is a procedure where they "take" the miscarriage from you
2. Take a medication to speed up the process, which could actually make the cramping worse.
3. Go home and let it all happen naturally, which they estimated would take 3 to 7 days.
Not everyone would have gone the route I did, and that's perfectly fine. I chose not to have the DNC because I didn't want to regret it in the future. If I had the DNC and miscarried again, would I wonder if something had been scraped too much during that procedure? Probably. So it wasn't for me. I wasn't about to take some medication to make me lose my child faster and in a more painful way. No thanks, I think I'll pass. I am someone that needed to see my father's body when he died in order to make the whole event feel grounded and real. Some people view it as morbid and that's also perfectly fine. I needed to go home and grieve this child as I lost it. I didn't want it to happen faster or harder or easier or with the help of some other human being. If I had to lose this baby, I was going to do it on my own. I was going to mother it the only way I given a chance to. So I went home.
After holding Eva so tightly upon arriving home that she thought she was in trouble, I crawled into bed. I sobbed for days. The cramps ebbed and flowed. I was in that low-grade state of labor for a few days. It was basically the worst period of my life. The bleeding obviously increased over the next few days. I had to go everyday to get bloodwork done so they could monitor that my body was returning to its full un-pregnant self and that none of the tissue was left behind. I will spare you the details, but I was not home when I actually "lost the baby". I was at one of these bloodwork appointments. The nurse had to knock on the bathroom door to make sure I was okay because of the sobbing sounds she must have overheard. That was not a good day.
I spent several days in bed and my mom was up to watch Eva. I was determined to give myself the time to grieve before I stepped back into the world. I had a lot of time with my thoughts. The transition that occurred in my heart in just one short week was tragic. Going from the purest joy of endless possibility that comes with the promise of developing new life to being sent home from the hospital to await it's impending loss is an emptiness I can only describe as hollow. I am still heartbroken. Nothing and no one can make it right.
Nothing ever will.
For a few days, I found myself holding my urine. I would need to pee and put it off for sometimes an hour or more out of the complete terror of what would be revealed with each subsequent wipe. It was a horrible state of anxiety to live in.
During these few days, I suddenly started having friends email or text or call me telling me they just had a hunch I was pregnant. They wanted to know if their hunches were accurate. What was I supposed to say? I was only 8 weeks along, well before I would have wanted to make this news public information anyway and here I am on the brink of losing the baby. Was I supposed to say yes? Was I to lie and say no and jinx myself in the off chance I wasn't going to lose this baby? If I said no, would fate shift and cause me to miscarry something I wasn't supposed to lose? I will never ask someone if they are pregnant regardless of what my hunch or intuition tells me because of having this experience. I know they meant no harm, their curiosity was peaked by one thing or another, and they wanted to be in the know. I have done this in the past, but I won't put anyone else in this position. In the end, I told the truth. I said I was pregnant, but didn't know how long I would be. How were these friends meant to respond? "Congrats"? Hardly.
After about 3 days of this brown blood, the anxiety of what would happen and when was eased. Red. Just a streak within the brown, but it was bright red. This wasn't old period blood. This was new blood. A few hours later into the evening I started cramping.
I warned Matt that I thought I was losing the baby. He told me to go lie down, probably for a dual purpose. He wanted me and that possibility out of sight and out of mind and he also was desperate to believe I was overreacting. But he knew deep down I wouldn't have cried wolf about something like that. It terrified him.
I texted my mom, my sister and best friend. My exact text was, "I am losing the baby. I am not overreacting. I don't want to talk about it right now. I will call the doctor first thing in the morning". And I put the phone down to charge for the night and I cried myself to sleep.
I did call the doctor in the morning. I was still holding out some hope that they'd tell me it was normal and to come in for an exam but that they weren't concerned. That's not what they said. They sent me straight to the hospital to Maternity Triage. My friend came and watched Eva, gave me a hug and sent me on my way to meet Matt at the hospital.
We waited forever. Lots of babies being born that day.
Finally, we were brought back to an exam room and the doctor arrived and started the ultrasound. I didn't bother surveying the energy in the room. My body wasn't lying to me. It was in a low-grade state of labor. Matt held out nervous hope though. I could tell by the strength with which he held my hand as he focused on that ultrasound screen, willing it to show him a healthy child. At one point he mumbled something like, "I see it", but the doctor grimaced and the exam was over quickly. It was there, but it's tiny heart no longer beat.
Matt and I collapsed into a grief I simply can't describe and hope none of you have to know. All I really remember clearly was holding Matt's face still so he would hold my eye contact so I could tell him through sobs that I was sorry I couldn't save it. So so sorry.
The doctor left us alone for an hour. We cried for half of that and then just stared at each other with a mutual acknowledgement of how hollowed out we felt suddenly. Then I was taken to radiology for thorough ultrasound so that one more person could tell me our November baby was gone. At the ultrasound I had before this, they told me the baby was measuring 6 weeks, 1 day. Now, a week later, it measured 6 weeks, 3 days. 2 days after I saw that precious heartbeat, it stopped.
I was given 3 options:
1. Get a DNC, which is a procedure where they "take" the miscarriage from you
2. Take a medication to speed up the process, which could actually make the cramping worse.
3. Go home and let it all happen naturally, which they estimated would take 3 to 7 days.
Not everyone would have gone the route I did, and that's perfectly fine. I chose not to have the DNC because I didn't want to regret it in the future. If I had the DNC and miscarried again, would I wonder if something had been scraped too much during that procedure? Probably. So it wasn't for me. I wasn't about to take some medication to make me lose my child faster and in a more painful way. No thanks, I think I'll pass. I am someone that needed to see my father's body when he died in order to make the whole event feel grounded and real. Some people view it as morbid and that's also perfectly fine. I needed to go home and grieve this child as I lost it. I didn't want it to happen faster or harder or easier or with the help of some other human being. If I had to lose this baby, I was going to do it on my own. I was going to mother it the only way I given a chance to. So I went home.
After holding Eva so tightly upon arriving home that she thought she was in trouble, I crawled into bed. I sobbed for days. The cramps ebbed and flowed. I was in that low-grade state of labor for a few days. It was basically the worst period of my life. The bleeding obviously increased over the next few days. I had to go everyday to get bloodwork done so they could monitor that my body was returning to its full un-pregnant self and that none of the tissue was left behind. I will spare you the details, but I was not home when I actually "lost the baby". I was at one of these bloodwork appointments. The nurse had to knock on the bathroom door to make sure I was okay because of the sobbing sounds she must have overheard. That was not a good day.
I spent several days in bed and my mom was up to watch Eva. I was determined to give myself the time to grieve before I stepped back into the world. I had a lot of time with my thoughts. The transition that occurred in my heart in just one short week was tragic. Going from the purest joy of endless possibility that comes with the promise of developing new life to being sent home from the hospital to await it's impending loss is an emptiness I can only describe as hollow. I am still heartbroken. Nothing and no one can make it right.
Nothing ever will.
Blah
In "Round 2", I had every pregnancy symptom I had with Eva only this time it was earlier and stronger. The exhaustion was overwhelming. My boobs were so sore I considered taping them "Boys Don't Cry" style to my body. But it was the nausea that knocked me on my ass.
I began to feel sick when pregnant with Eva around week 10 and it was hard and fast. Once my doctor told me I didn't have to choke it back, that Eva was getting enough nourishment, I would suddenly get a wave of nausea and would have to knock people down in order to get to the bathroom where I would puke my guts out. But then I felt better. It was gone by 12 weeks. So in the end, hardly the worst case of morning sickness in the world. But "Round 2" was a different story. I was nauseous before I even knew for sure I was pregnant, so at like week 4! And it wasn't in waves, it was all day. Sun up til sun down. It wouldn't get to the point that I would have to vomit either, but linger just on the brink...all...damn...day. By week 6, my OB prescribed me an anti-nausea medication, that's how bad it was (I never took it). Sometime towards the end of my 6th week, I remember talking to my mom and we half-laughed and half-panicked at the possibility that I was carrying twins. Then my 7th week arrived and suddenly, I felt better. I wasn't sick to my stomach at all anymore. You would think that would be a good thing and that I'd be celebrating but it struck me to my core and I was aware of it all day long. Why aren't I sick anymore? Is something wrong? Shouldn't I be sick until my second trimester? Why did it go away overnight? Something must be wrong. Almost every hour I would squeeze a boob to make sure they were still sore. And they were, so I took some comfort in that. For awhile.
At the beginning of week 7, I went for the prenatal counseling visit at my OB. This is where you talk to the nurse and schedule some appointments and they talk to you about what to expect and blahbity blah blah. It's not even an actual exam and the second pregnancy it borders on completely pointless. "Oh you mean I CAN'T drink wine with this pregnancy? I thought something may have changed in the last 18 months? No? Oh okay. Thank God I came for this appointment or I would have had NO idea! PHEW!". Idiots.
But I talked to the nurse at length about this nausea/no nausea thing. I wasn't due to have an ultrasound until I was about 12 weeks, so another month to go, but to ease my mind she wrote me a prescription to go have one done. Everyone told me I was over-reacting. Even the nurse thought I was being a bit of a wimp. But something wasn't sitting right.
I didn't go for the ultrasound right away because I needed Matt to go with me. When he got home from work we went to the same place I had gone the year before to get the breast ultrasound. I changed into that same paper-thin gown and was brought into the same room to wait for the ultrasound tech. And here Guru Jane goes again, surveying the energy in the room. The light wasn't blinking anymore, I'm glad they got that fixed. The ultrasound machine still whirred, the crepe paper sheet crinkled under my skin and the room was musty and warm. Matt sat in the chair by the bed and he tapped his foot repeatedly. Matt is NOT a foot tapper. I took a breath and closed my eyes and "felt the room". Was it heavy? Would something bad happen here? Was something wrong with this pregnancy? With this baby of ours?
Yes.
The energy in that room made my skin crawl. It was heavy and dark and simply felt tragic.
I cried immediately when the ultrasound tech had trouble finding the baby. She tried to be reassuring. She told me that they don't do routine ultrasounds at 7.5 weeks because they are so small they are hard to find. It didn't reassure me in the least. Through tears, I focused on Matt's face as he stood over her shoulder looking at that ultrasound screen searching for our child. He was serious and stiff because he didn't see one...and then suddenly, his shoulders relaxed and he nodded to me and there it was! It took them 30 minutes to find, but there was our little baby bean! We saw the heartbeat, a tiny flicker, and it charted in the normal range. The baby measured small (6 wks 1 day), but everything was give or take a week or two at that stage. They were just thrilled the heartbeat was beating away as fast as it should be. They sent me on my way with a picture of our little November baby.
I wish I could say that having that ultrasound put me at ease or that it had reassured me by seeing the baby's heart rate, but it didn't. I felt the energy in that room and knew what it revealed to me. Something was wrong. The universe was just easing me into it. I stared at that precious ultrasound picture of that little alien-like bean and I spoke to it. I said, "Hello little one. You do your job and I will do mine. Stay with me, please".
The next day, we got an offer on our house. Two days later, we negotiated a deal and went under contract. Three days later, I started bleeding...
I began to feel sick when pregnant with Eva around week 10 and it was hard and fast. Once my doctor told me I didn't have to choke it back, that Eva was getting enough nourishment, I would suddenly get a wave of nausea and would have to knock people down in order to get to the bathroom where I would puke my guts out. But then I felt better. It was gone by 12 weeks. So in the end, hardly the worst case of morning sickness in the world. But "Round 2" was a different story. I was nauseous before I even knew for sure I was pregnant, so at like week 4! And it wasn't in waves, it was all day. Sun up til sun down. It wouldn't get to the point that I would have to vomit either, but linger just on the brink...all...damn...day. By week 6, my OB prescribed me an anti-nausea medication, that's how bad it was (I never took it). Sometime towards the end of my 6th week, I remember talking to my mom and we half-laughed and half-panicked at the possibility that I was carrying twins. Then my 7th week arrived and suddenly, I felt better. I wasn't sick to my stomach at all anymore. You would think that would be a good thing and that I'd be celebrating but it struck me to my core and I was aware of it all day long. Why aren't I sick anymore? Is something wrong? Shouldn't I be sick until my second trimester? Why did it go away overnight? Something must be wrong. Almost every hour I would squeeze a boob to make sure they were still sore. And they were, so I took some comfort in that. For awhile.
At the beginning of week 7, I went for the prenatal counseling visit at my OB. This is where you talk to the nurse and schedule some appointments and they talk to you about what to expect and blahbity blah blah. It's not even an actual exam and the second pregnancy it borders on completely pointless. "Oh you mean I CAN'T drink wine with this pregnancy? I thought something may have changed in the last 18 months? No? Oh okay. Thank God I came for this appointment or I would have had NO idea! PHEW!". Idiots.
But I talked to the nurse at length about this nausea/no nausea thing. I wasn't due to have an ultrasound until I was about 12 weeks, so another month to go, but to ease my mind she wrote me a prescription to go have one done. Everyone told me I was over-reacting. Even the nurse thought I was being a bit of a wimp. But something wasn't sitting right.
I didn't go for the ultrasound right away because I needed Matt to go with me. When he got home from work we went to the same place I had gone the year before to get the breast ultrasound. I changed into that same paper-thin gown and was brought into the same room to wait for the ultrasound tech. And here Guru Jane goes again, surveying the energy in the room. The light wasn't blinking anymore, I'm glad they got that fixed. The ultrasound machine still whirred, the crepe paper sheet crinkled under my skin and the room was musty and warm. Matt sat in the chair by the bed and he tapped his foot repeatedly. Matt is NOT a foot tapper. I took a breath and closed my eyes and "felt the room". Was it heavy? Would something bad happen here? Was something wrong with this pregnancy? With this baby of ours?
Yes.
The energy in that room made my skin crawl. It was heavy and dark and simply felt tragic.
I cried immediately when the ultrasound tech had trouble finding the baby. She tried to be reassuring. She told me that they don't do routine ultrasounds at 7.5 weeks because they are so small they are hard to find. It didn't reassure me in the least. Through tears, I focused on Matt's face as he stood over her shoulder looking at that ultrasound screen searching for our child. He was serious and stiff because he didn't see one...and then suddenly, his shoulders relaxed and he nodded to me and there it was! It took them 30 minutes to find, but there was our little baby bean! We saw the heartbeat, a tiny flicker, and it charted in the normal range. The baby measured small (6 wks 1 day), but everything was give or take a week or two at that stage. They were just thrilled the heartbeat was beating away as fast as it should be. They sent me on my way with a picture of our little November baby.
I wish I could say that having that ultrasound put me at ease or that it had reassured me by seeing the baby's heart rate, but it didn't. I felt the energy in that room and knew what it revealed to me. Something was wrong. The universe was just easing me into it. I stared at that precious ultrasound picture of that little alien-like bean and I spoke to it. I said, "Hello little one. You do your job and I will do mine. Stay with me, please".
The next day, we got an offer on our house. Two days later, we negotiated a deal and went under contract. Three days later, I started bleeding...
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Luck is a tricky thing
 |
| Today, I share this photo for the first time through tears... |
The universe gave me a 30th birthday present so precious I couldn't possibly think myself worthy of it. It gave me a positive home pregnancy test.
It took us 3 months to conceive Eva. Round 2, it took us one month, one try. Bingo!
I KNEW it this time well before I saw a plus sign. Round 2, you know what you're looking for in a way you don't have reason to know the first time around. I was exhausted. So exhausted it hurt to sit up. And I was nauseous, but maybe I was just getting sick? I knew for sure one night when I was getting into the shower. I caught a glimpse of of my boobs, specifically my nipples. If you've been pregnant you know what I am talking about before I even have to say it = alien nipples.
I saw them and lost my breath. Holy shit I'm pregnant.
I took 4 tests before I got the result I knew was correct. I learned my lesson from the whole "faint line" thing with Eva's conception and used the digital models this time, which resulted in a very clear, bold-printed "PREGNANT"!
Eva was napping at the time and I clasped my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming out in joy and risk waking her. I didn't hear the end of it when I got pregnant with Eva and didn't tell my mom right away, but instead waited for Christmas. So I called my mother and let her be the first to know. (She knew before Matt, for the record!) When I heard Eva's sweet voice through the monitor, telling me she was awake by calling my name, I bounded in with an ear to ear grin and said, "Well hello, big sister!"
I wanted to share this special news with Matt in a way I didn't have the grace to do the first time around. Instead of screaming at him from the bathroom and waving a pee stick in his face, I took Eva shopping to buy a "Big Sister" t-shirt. I viewed this as the first of many important events in preparing her for the role of a lifetime.
Eva was wearing the shirt when Matt got home from work. It took him like 20 minutes to notice and even then it's only because I pointed it out. His reaction, "No SHIT!? For real?" and then he did a little Chandler Bing type dance in celebration of his effective swimmers! We were going to have a baby.
We didn't even worry about selling our house in that moment. It never even crossed my mind. I thought about that siren that had been going off in my mind like a war due to my back problems, "possible fertility issues". I had the arrogance to think, "fertility issues, my ass!"
I was due to have a baby November 11, 2011...11/11/11. We took it as a sign of luck.
If I knew then what I know now I could have been prepared that "luck" is a tricky thing...
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