Tuesday, March 22, 2011

I wish that you were mine…

The reason I’ve spent so much time going back over my miscarriage is because the pain I am feeling now, the pain of my last IVF cycle failing and the pain of knowing that I will not be carrying my own biological child has proven to be just as devastating as my miscarriage. The loss is unbearable but the love and desire to be a mom it still strong. I need to learn how to honor, to release and then open my heart up to the child waiting for me.

An open letter to my unborn child:

I have dreamed about you for so long. I’ve imagined your face, your smile, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your fingers and your toes.

I was never really sure what you would look like but I could picture you perfectly. I imagined looking into your eyes and seeing that familiar face. Mine, my mom’s, my sisters’, my cousins’, my aunt’s, my grandma’s face all living within your own. Generations of differences but somehow all the same.

I am so sorry that we will never meet. It is a loss that will reside in my heart forever. I am sorry I waited so long and in turned missed my chance to be with you. I am sorry that I didn’t welcome you into my life sooner.

I know that there will always be a part of me that will remain heartbroken over the fact that we could never meet. I know you tried to be with me and for whatever reason you could not stay. I miss you. There will always be a part of me that will forever mourn the fact that you had to leave.

I imagine your beautiful face and I can almost see it shining, your cries that I swear I can sometimes hear, your laughs that echo with mine and your smile which resides in my heart. I used to think someday…someday you will be mine…I never imagined that someday would never come. The emptiness of the absence of the hope in someday is a shadow upon my soul.

My beautiful, beloved baby it is time for me to let you rest. It is time for me to open my heart to the beautiful soul (your brother or sister) waiting patiently to be with me. I will forever hold you in my heart.

I wish you could have stayed. I wish that you were mine…



Wednesday, March 16, 2011

What is and what should never be…

1 year ago on Saint Patrick’s Day I miscarried. I wasn’t blogging at the time but I was writing on the Fertile Thoughts board and I was writing for me. Below are some things I wrote at the time. They take place from the time I found out I was going to miscarry until a little after my miscarriage started. I left them as is. My miscarriage lasted 4 weeks and in those 4 weeks every hour of every day the knowledge that I was passing my baby chipped away a little something from my soul. These were my thoughts and feelings:


I keep trying to convince myself that a miracle is going to happen. That somehow I am really only 6 weeks pregnant and not 7 weeks or that my baby is just small. MY BABY IS JUST SMALL!! I’ve googled everything. Misdiagnosed Miscarriage is like the bible to me right now. Praying that I have a tilted uterus, that I will have 1 more u/s and it will show my baby with a strong heartbeat! And I don’t want to do this…I don’t want to wait for my baby to pass. I just can’t. So how do I get through this…


Everyone keeps telling me “Well the good news is at least you know you can get pregnant”…That’s good news…Here your pregnant…Oh but wait you’re not going to have a baby! I’m not finding comfort in that right now. And then my mom and sister are like “When can you try again? The next pregnancy will be the one” “You’re going to have a baby the next time” Well what if I don’t want a next time…I want to scream BUT I WANT THIS BABY! THIS IS THE BABY I WANT!! THIS BABY IS STILL INSIDE OF ME!!! AND I WANT THIS BABY SO BADLY!! And then all I can do is beg God…please…please…please….


I have only left my house 3 times since I have found out. Once to get my taxes done and 2 times to go to work. I talk to no one and the funny thing is…no one calls me…I know they are just giving me time (or they are sick of hearing me cry). I keep telling myself that I have to start doing things…going out, working out again, calling my sister, making plans, but I can’t…I just want to be home alone…sad by myself.

I went out today because I had to go to the bank and then I stopped at the grocery store. It took me over 20 minutes just to get out of the car. I couldn’t bring myself to open the car door. I just sat there watching the rain on my window and telling myself, screaming at myself, get out of the car, go inside, get groceries…but I couldn’t move…I didn’t want to move and I didn’t want anyone to see me. I don’t even recognize myself any more. I don’t know the person I am looking at in the mirror and I don’t know the sounds that I am making when I cry. I’ve never heard them before and believe me I have had many heart breaks in my life and have cried more than any 1 person should but this is different. It’s a sound I never knew I could make…


I will never be the same again and that makes me very mad. I had such a giving spirit, funny outlook on life, unbeatable determination and will power…gone…I’m gone…I can’t even be happy when one of the gals on FT posts that she finally got her BFP b/c mine is ending w/o a baby…I still don’t believe it…I don’t believe that I am going to miscarry…I can’t see it happening…what I can see happening is going in after 2 weeks b/c nothing’s happened and then seeing my baby with a heartbeat, growing inside of me…as it should be!!! But that’s me trying so desperately to hang on to what I know is lost…


I don’t even recognizing my own voice…My sister called again. I didn’t answer again. I decided to finally call her back. She tries and I know she feels bad but I get a little angered or defensive talking to her. Maybe it’s because she is one of the only people who knew about me TTC in the first place. I don’t know but when I did finally call her back I didn’t even recognize my own voice. She asked how I was…someone answered terrible…she wanted to know if we were going to get together for our walk and someone went on and on about a busy week and maybe next week and I don’t know the person that was talking…she is so empty…the words were empty and hollow.


It seems that all of my pregnancy symptoms are disappearing. I’m still very tired but I am sure that is depression. My boobs are on and off sore and diminishing. They aren’t as full and my nipples aren’t a large. They are shrinking…With every lost symptom a little shred of hope gets lost too. I keep praying for nausea, increased sense of smell. The only thing left is a weird smell way in the back nose…almost dusty…strange. I have absolutely no signs of a miscarriage either. No cramping, no bleeding…NOTHING! Last night there was a huge storm. I got home from work to find my condo without power. All I could think of was that I did NOT want to sit in the dark with just myself and my thoughts. There was nowhere to go. No way to get away from me, so I slept. I went to sleep at 9pm and didn’t get up until 8am and then lay back down until 10:30am…now that’s sleep! In the middle of the night, I was still sleeping on the couch when I was woken up by the strangest fluttering down there where I should be cramping. I would like to believe that it’s my baby letting me know that she’s still there, fighting, growing and then there is the other part of my thinking (actually knowing) it was my baby letting go! I never felt anything like that before in my life.


Well, I start my miscarriage on Saint Patty's Day...horrible...I'm cramping and bleeding and devastated. I've decided to go to a new RE because I can't bring myself to walk into Dr. Doom's office with the Face Nurse and the pity stares! But I am afraid of losing my edge without Dr. Doom there to piss me off!


I went out to lunch with my girlfriend today. We talked about things, trivial things, things that don’t really have any meaning to me anymore. I did mention briefly some of the pain I was going through and talked a little bit about the miscarriage (as I am still bleeding). I was concerned about the miscarriage being all I could talk about so I tried not to mention it too much. But in reality I don’t really get to talk about it to anyone. She commented on how good I looked. I cut my hair. She said it didn’t look like me. I said “I think that’s the point”. I’m not me anymore. When I was going to leave my friend told me “You’re in a good place considering what’s happened. Your strong” I've come to realize that I’m not. I’m not in a good place and I am not strong but I didn’t want to let her know that…


Saturday, March 12, 2011

Must come down…

As the 1 year anniversary of the day I miscarried approaches, I am trying to come to terms with loss and move forward on my journey to motherhood. By re-examining how I survived the past I am hoping to discover the strength to embrace my future. This is the past.

I’m pretty sure that if you had to describe hell it would be the time between your morning doctor’s appointment and the afternoon when the RE calls to give you your results. In that time the devil smiles.

The phone rang and Dr. Doom proclaimed that yet, once again, my beta more than doubled. The devil would have to wait another day to get his due!

Things were looking up. Many assured me that seeing a small pregnancy sac at such an early ultrasound wasn’t uncommon and that as long as my beta was doubling I was safe. I believed them. I trusted my heart. I knew at my next ultrasound I would see my beautiful baby. That whole week I celebrated. I bought little clothes and blankets and toys. I looked at cribs and googled ideas for the nursery. I envisioned my baby shower with Sissy L. I chronicled each shining moment in my pregnancy journal. I was looking forward to seeing that little flicker of a heartbeat on the screen…

I probably should have seen the writing on the wall but I didn’t. I knew I could get pregnant. I knew it in my soul but what I didn’t know was that I could miscarry. I truly didn’t possess that knowledge and when I was faced with the knowledge I had no idea how to process it.

A week later I went in for my ultrasound. I knew this ultrasound was going to be different. Dr. Doom would print out the picture of my beautiful baby and hand it to me. Or so I thought. When I arrived at the clinic, Dr. Doom wasn’t there. The Face Nurse told me he had been called away on a personal matter and that she would do the ultrasound. I was a little thrown off. She is not a doctor but I figured she knew what she was doing.

I stripped and skootched and got ready for the “probe”.

All I really remember from that point on was the Face Nurse saying “This doesn’t look good My Dear”.

Yes, she said “My Dear”. More than once.

“It doesn’t look good My Dear”. And then she said “There is no heartbeat My Dear.”

She removed the “probe” and I said up. Stunned and shocked. She put her hand on my shoulder and I wanted to smack it off.

I didn’t. I just sat there. She explained that I would have to wait for the doctor to call…the meaning of hell…the devil smiled…

She said that when he called he would tell me when they would schedule my D&C. As she walked out she said “Take as long as you need”.

I got dressed immediately and left. I didn’t cry on my way home. All I kept thinking was that I hope something bad happened to Dr. Doom and that’s why he was called away. I know I shouldn’t have wished that. I am not proud I did…

When I got home something snapped. I had messages and texts of excitement and promise from my sister inquiring how everything went. She kept calling. I picked up the phone and went off. I can hardly remember what I said. It was filtered through hysterical sobbing. It went something like “Aren’t you glad you kept calling wanting to know how it went? This is how it went…I’m losing my baby” and on and on I sobbed with unstoppable sorrow and uncontrollable anger.

I left day. Not physically but I left.

One of Dr. Doom’s partners called me. Dr Whatshername and all I remember is her saying she wanted me to come to the other office in the morning get confirmation of the results from a doctor. I freaked on her too but in the end agreed.

I don’t know if I slept that night. I don’t know if I ever stopped crying. What I do know is the next day I had to relive it all over again. I went to see Dr. Darth Vader.

Come to the dark side…

The drive was a blur. The wait in the reception area a blur. Going into the examining room, stripping and skootching a blur.

Then Dr. Darth Vader came in and started the ultrasound. He was mechanically. He was clinical. He pointed out everything on the screen. I didn’t look. And he said in that mechanical, clinical voice “As you can see there is no heartbeat. The sac is measuring a week behind and it is deformed”.

Deformed! I wanted to scream “You’re deformed and my baby is just small!”

I didn’t. I laid there silently as my tears quietly streamed down the side of my face. I sat up and then Dr. Darth Vader started giving me my miscarriage instructions.

He told me that I should miscarry naturally within the next 2 to 6 weeks. I was confused. I asked about a D&C. He recommended a natural miscarried. I was mortified by the thought of possibly waiting 6 weeks for this to start. He told me it usually happens within 2 weeks. I kept asking questions.

I asked “What if it doesn’t?”

He repeated “It will be between 2 to 6 weeks”.

“But what if this…”

“And what if that…”

He cut me off. Just like that, Dr. Darth Vader lifted his hand to cease the defiant questions and choked me silent by saying “Just call us when you bleed”.

I walked out. I never went back.

I week later on Saint Patrick’s Day I started bleeding. I never called.


Sunday, March 6, 2011

Round and Round…

*Note - In order for me to move forward. To move past the pain of loss and continue on my journey to motherhood, I need to revisit the past to find my future. This is the past.

After 5 grueling blood tests resulting in a satisfactory beta, Dr. Doom scheduled me for my 1st ultrasound only two days later. I felt it was too soon. I asked if it was too soon. He told me that they should be able to see a pregnancy sac by now and that is what he would be looking for.

I was nervous but I was thrilled (which is an understatement! I was f*%ing over the moon!). My betas rose appropriately and it was at a level that corresponded with being 5 1/2 weeks pregnant. I was pregnant. I knew I was pregnant and I felt pregnant. I celebrated by going out and buying a pregnancy journal on the advice of BFF M and started immediately writing in it. I told BBF V whose reaction was to say “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” literally a hundred times through her tears of happiness and I told my mom.

Telling my mom was one of the best experiences. My mom, Sissy L and I were going out to lunch that day. We all met at my condo. My mom didn’t know about my struggles and TTC. There were so many times I so desperately wanted to tell her and there were so many times that I needed her but now, now I could tell her I did it!

We were all sitting in my living room when I went into my bedroom and came out with my baby basket. A basket I have been filling with baby stuff since my TTC journey began.

She looked at it and then she looked at me and then the basket and then me. I smiled and said “I’M PREGNANT!” and she jumped up and down hugging me and then said “Wait a minute, wait a minute…how did this happen?” Of course Sissy L and I had a laugh teasing my mom about the “birds and the bees” and then I went into a condensed version of my journey. I told her about my betas and Dr. Doom. She said “Don’t worry about that ass. You are pregnant. He was wrong when he said you couldn’t get pregnant right? Idiot!” We proceeded to go out to lunch with giant smiles on all of our faces.

I went in 2 days later. The Face Nurse wasn’t there that day. Another nurse Cecilia took my blood. Cecilia was a very sweet, kind woman. I remember her saying to me after she drew my blood “You are going to see your baby today. Aren’t you excited?” I smiled and said yes, but the truth was I was more terrified than excited.

I went through the ritual; pants off, paper napkin around your waist, feet in stirrups and I skootched all the way down so my butt was almost hanging off the edge.

Dr. Doom came in with Cecilia and proceeded with my internal ultrasound. He seems to be visibly agitated as he increasingly became more “aggressive” with the “probe” and then he said he was having trouble finding the sac. I don’t think at this time my heart was beating or I was breathing. I just kept praying as Dr. Doom rammed the “probe” around inside my cookie while he let out sighs of frustration. After a series of “Ugghs” he then removed the “probe” and printed out the picture of my baby from the ultrasound machine. I sat up. He showed me the picture. He pointed out how small my sac was stating that “This could mean the pregnancy isn’t viable or it could turn out to be a healthy pregnancy.” He told me that they would check my beta and see if it doubled again and that I need to come back for another beta in 2 days…just when I thought I had won, they throw me back into the beta game. He said he would call me later that day to let me know the results and just like that I’m back in the waiting game too.

And then he did something that made my heart sink…he stuck the picture of my ultrasound (of my baby as small as she may be) into his pocket and walked out.

I went home to wait for his call.



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