Truly, it was a day to remember, in every way.
Anything and everything you've ever wanted to know about infertility, pregnancy loss, and trying to conceive.
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Thank you
A big thank you to Mandy, Kelly, Amy, and Rachel for sharing their stories last week for remembrance day. I thought each story was beautiful and touching and when I lit my candle, I thought of your babies along with all the babies we celebrated that day. Thank you for sharing. And to those who felt the losses silently, my love and thoughts were with you as well. As I read blog post upon blog post last year in honor of the days, I was blown away all over again by this community we are all apart of. So much love, so much loss. My heart was breaking and overflowing with pride simultaneously.
Truly, it was a day to remember, in every way.
Truly, it was a day to remember, in every way.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
For October 15th...
I do not like remembering my son.
Not now.
I still wake up at nights with my pillow soaked by my tears. February 13th will mark two years since he passed away at 14 weeks gestation.
Unexpectedly, too.
3 weeks earlier I had an ultrasound and everything was fine, perfect.
He was moving around in there, wiggling vigourously.
I wrote a little something after he passed, to help me cope. I thought I would share.
Not now.
I still wake up at nights with my pillow soaked by my tears. February 13th will mark two years since he passed away at 14 weeks gestation.
Unexpectedly, too.
3 weeks earlier I had an ultrasound and everything was fine, perfect.
He was moving around in there, wiggling vigourously.
I wrote a little something after he passed, to help me cope. I thought I would share.
I didn't miscarry. I most definitely not had a spontaneous abortion. I gave birth. Gave birth way too early and to a baby that was already sleeping. He was alive inside my womb for 14 weeks so please...don't talk about him like he wasn't a person. He was my son, the little brother Ludo will never have a chance to grow up with. He has a name too. His name is Augustin so stop calling him with little pet names like little shrimp or little bean like he was never a baby. He was my son, my baby. The one I will never be able to hold, kiss, nurse, cuddle and see grow up. The one I will never have the chance to vent about because he kept me up all night. The one who will never pee on me during a diaper change. The one I will never hear laugh, cry or scream. The one I will never be able to be proud of. The son I will never know. The son I will always miss.
So please. Keep your words of cheap wisdom to yourself. Keep your God talk to yourself. A mother should never have to grieve the loss of her child. Please, stop telling me that it was for the best, that everything happens for a reason. It doesn't. Please, stop telling me to stop crying and get over it because it shouldn't be that hard, that I shouldn't be so attached because he wasn't there for long. True, you might have lost a baby too...but who are you to tell me how I should or shouldn't feel? Who are you to decide for me the level of love I should have for my own child?
Augustin, mommy loved you since the moment I saw that second line on the test. Sure, I was confused and scared but never doubt mommy loved you. Mommy still does. Everyday Mommy will love you. You're in my heart until the day I shall leave this earth. Thank you for giving your life to most probably save mine. Your big brother will be thankful for that when he will be old enough to realize. Please sweet little angel, look after him from wherever you are, keep him safe because mommy can't lose the both of you.
Please people, let me grieve at my own pace and let me deal with this like I want to. Stop trying to rush things and push me towards steps I am not ready to take yet. I am fine, really I am. Just heartbroken. I will get better. In time. My own.
I am better now. I am even able to see that his passing was for the best.
Still, I miss him. Every day. Every time I hold his baby sister. Something is missing in my arms. My friends got me a bracelet with his name and date of birth engraved on it. I love it and wear it proudly. I miss you, son. Thanks for looking out for us.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Remembering Butterfly
Today is a day put aside in remembrance. A day to stop everything in our hectic lives and remember the babies we have lost. It's a day to think of the sweet babies that were taken too soon, the pregnancies that ended before their time, and the angels born asleep.
Like Rachel, my loss took the form of an early miscarriage (I share her hatred for the term "chemical pregnancy"). My husband and I had been trying for over a year to conceive our second child. My doctor was just getting ready to refer me to a reproductive endocrinologist. We were trying one last month on our own.
A good friend of mine in the TTC community had just found out she was pregnant with her second child. We'd "met" on an online forum and discovered that not only did we live in the same town, but that our children were born just two days apart. Then we found out that they were born in the same hospital AND her mother had been my nurse! We had talked for months about how great it would be to be pregnant together, to be "due date buddies". When she got her BFP, I wanted so badly to follow her! My TWW crept along. I took a test and didn't see anything. I posted a picture online (do all TTCers take pictures of their peesticks? It's not just me, right?) and a few people with much better eyesight than I have been blessed with thought they saw a little something.
The next morning, I tested again. This time I could see it too! It was very faint, but it was positive! My husband and I were over the moon! It was the day before Father's Day and we were ecstatic to receive such a gift! My friend and I were going to have both children the same age and we couldn't have been happier!
But that happiness, that heavenly feeling, was short-lived.
The day after my BFP, I took another test and was pleased to see a darker line, but disappointed that my digital test was negative. I reminded myself that digital tests aren't a sensitive, it was probably just too early. That afternoon, I noticed a tiny bit of spotting when I used the restroom. I was nervous immediately, but I kept telling myself that bleeding isn't uncommon in the first trimester. I reached out to my friend, who said the same thing. It would be okay. It just had to be okay.
The next morning, I didn't take a test. Maybe part of me just didn't want to know. I felt alright, I was even having some symptoms already, and I hadn't had any more spotting overnight. I went to work and started looking for an OB. I called and made an appointment, even chatting anxiously with the nurse about how I'd had a little spotting and was just so nervous and excited. She reassured me that it's normal, it's probably nothing, don't worry unless it's heavy or accompanied by cramping.
Monday afternoon I noticed a little more spotting. By Tuesday morning I couldn't avoid it any longer, I took another test and my heart sank. The line was light, extremely light. I took another test, but got the same result. In complete denial, I decided maybe they were a bad batch of tests, so I took my last remaining test, a digital. Negative. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes, but I pushed them back. I picked up my phone and called into work, then called the OBs office where I'd scheduled an appointment. They agree to have me come in for a blood test. The day seemed to go in slow motion. Drive to the doctor's office. Don't look at the pregnant bellies. Don't look at the adorable toddlers and infants in the waiting room. Go to the lab. Have blood drawn. Go home. Put feet up. Drink water. Ignore the cramping. Don't think about the bleeding--it's bleeding now, not just spotting. Go online, read message of support from my friends--Don't give up! It's not over! Go to bed to escape.
The next morning, I texted my boss telling him I'd be late. I waited for a call, but I didn't make it very far before I cracked and called to beg for my results, even though I already knew.
"We got your test results in. You were never pregnant. Your HCG level was only 3. If you had been pregnant, it would still be higher."
I couldn't even think. I saw those perfect pink lines. I felt the symptoms, the breast tenderness, the gas, I FELT PREGNANT. She had to be wrong.
I realized later that she was. It was a callous thing to say, and obviously not true. False negative pregnancy tests aren't possible. She only managed to make me feel worse as I dissolved into tears at a loss she didn't even recognize.
I told my husband and my mother. I cried. I told my son, who wasn't quite 2 1/2, but knew mommy had a baby in her belly and knew mommy was sad. I cried. I got up, got dressed, drove to work. I cried. I told my boss. I cried. I worked, desperate to concentrate on anything else. I cried any time anyone asked how I was. They didn't know, but I cried, so I had to explain. As the hours and days went on, I found that sharing helped. I ended up sharing my loss with more people than I'd been able to share my joy with.
Many people probably didn't understand my grief. I had only known I was pregnant for four days. But I wanted a baby so badly, and as soon as I saw those two pink lines I wanted THAT baby. I was devastated that I would never know my baby, never get to see my baby grow and learn. My heart broke to think I'd never hold that baby in my arms.
Since I didn't know if my baby was a boy or a girl, I've always simply thought of him or her as Butterfly. I've always adored butterflies and they've always held a great deal of significance to me. I felt like this beautiful little spirit flitted into my life for such a breif time, and since butterflies are thought to only live a short time, it seems fitting.
So tonight at 7:00 pm, I lit a candle for all the sweet babies lost too soon. And I lit another one for my Butterfly.
Like Rachel, my loss took the form of an early miscarriage (I share her hatred for the term "chemical pregnancy"). My husband and I had been trying for over a year to conceive our second child. My doctor was just getting ready to refer me to a reproductive endocrinologist. We were trying one last month on our own.
A good friend of mine in the TTC community had just found out she was pregnant with her second child. We'd "met" on an online forum and discovered that not only did we live in the same town, but that our children were born just two days apart. Then we found out that they were born in the same hospital AND her mother had been my nurse! We had talked for months about how great it would be to be pregnant together, to be "due date buddies". When she got her BFP, I wanted so badly to follow her! My TWW crept along. I took a test and didn't see anything. I posted a picture online (do all TTCers take pictures of their peesticks? It's not just me, right?) and a few people with much better eyesight than I have been blessed with thought they saw a little something.
The next morning, I tested again. This time I could see it too! It was very faint, but it was positive! My husband and I were over the moon! It was the day before Father's Day and we were ecstatic to receive such a gift! My friend and I were going to have both children the same age and we couldn't have been happier!
But that happiness, that heavenly feeling, was short-lived.
The day after my BFP, I took another test and was pleased to see a darker line, but disappointed that my digital test was negative. I reminded myself that digital tests aren't a sensitive, it was probably just too early. That afternoon, I noticed a tiny bit of spotting when I used the restroom. I was nervous immediately, but I kept telling myself that bleeding isn't uncommon in the first trimester. I reached out to my friend, who said the same thing. It would be okay. It just had to be okay.
The next morning, I didn't take a test. Maybe part of me just didn't want to know. I felt alright, I was even having some symptoms already, and I hadn't had any more spotting overnight. I went to work and started looking for an OB. I called and made an appointment, even chatting anxiously with the nurse about how I'd had a little spotting and was just so nervous and excited. She reassured me that it's normal, it's probably nothing, don't worry unless it's heavy or accompanied by cramping.
Monday afternoon I noticed a little more spotting. By Tuesday morning I couldn't avoid it any longer, I took another test and my heart sank. The line was light, extremely light. I took another test, but got the same result. In complete denial, I decided maybe they were a bad batch of tests, so I took my last remaining test, a digital. Negative. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes, but I pushed them back. I picked up my phone and called into work, then called the OBs office where I'd scheduled an appointment. They agree to have me come in for a blood test. The day seemed to go in slow motion. Drive to the doctor's office. Don't look at the pregnant bellies. Don't look at the adorable toddlers and infants in the waiting room. Go to the lab. Have blood drawn. Go home. Put feet up. Drink water. Ignore the cramping. Don't think about the bleeding--it's bleeding now, not just spotting. Go online, read message of support from my friends--Don't give up! It's not over! Go to bed to escape.
The next morning, I texted my boss telling him I'd be late. I waited for a call, but I didn't make it very far before I cracked and called to beg for my results, even though I already knew.
"We got your test results in. You were never pregnant. Your HCG level was only 3. If you had been pregnant, it would still be higher."
I couldn't even think. I saw those perfect pink lines. I felt the symptoms, the breast tenderness, the gas, I FELT PREGNANT. She had to be wrong.
I realized later that she was. It was a callous thing to say, and obviously not true. False negative pregnancy tests aren't possible. She only managed to make me feel worse as I dissolved into tears at a loss she didn't even recognize.
I told my husband and my mother. I cried. I told my son, who wasn't quite 2 1/2, but knew mommy had a baby in her belly and knew mommy was sad. I cried. I got up, got dressed, drove to work. I cried. I told my boss. I cried. I worked, desperate to concentrate on anything else. I cried any time anyone asked how I was. They didn't know, but I cried, so I had to explain. As the hours and days went on, I found that sharing helped. I ended up sharing my loss with more people than I'd been able to share my joy with.
Many people probably didn't understand my grief. I had only known I was pregnant for four days. But I wanted a baby so badly, and as soon as I saw those two pink lines I wanted THAT baby. I was devastated that I would never know my baby, never get to see my baby grow and learn. My heart broke to think I'd never hold that baby in my arms.
Since I didn't know if my baby was a boy or a girl, I've always simply thought of him or her as Butterfly. I've always adored butterflies and they've always held a great deal of significance to me. I felt like this beautiful little spirit flitted into my life for such a breif time, and since butterflies are thought to only live a short time, it seems fitting.
So tonight at 7:00 pm, I lit a candle for all the sweet babies lost too soon. And I lit another one for my Butterfly.
In honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month...my miscarriage story
This is a post about a month ago that I wrote as a guest post for a blogger friend (Risa @ Who Shot Down My Stork). It's my miscarriage story:
When I saw that Risa was looking for guest bloggers I jumped at the chance for two reasons. The first reason is that, though she already knows, I wanted to remind Risa that she is not alone in this. The second reason is that I am passionate about infertility. It's more enjoyable to talk to others who will listen than it is to talk to myself.
Let me share with you my story. My husband and I met on a float trip back in 2007. As I got to know him I knew this was someone special. I'm lucky he felt the same way, and in June 2011 we were married. In August of that year we decided to try having a baby. I had a feeling the job might not be too easy. What I didn't know was how immensely hard the job would be. I have PCOS, which is an endocrine disorder that interferes with insulin and hormone levels causing all kinds of fun issues in a woman's body, including being overweight, acne, unwanted hair, and infertility due to anovulation.
I have been thinking the last two years of what God's purpose for all of this is. I know now that there is at least one reason why this is our story. Infertility has enlightened me and answered what I have been trying to answer for some time. What am I destined to do as a career? As I said before, I'm passionate about infertility. I understand the emotions behind it and what it can do to a marriage (ours has been strengthened but others are not so lucky). I'm also passionate about mental health. I'm halfway done with supervision to become a licensed clinical social worker. Currently, I do crisis counseling but my goal is to move towards having a practice for infertility therapy. I have a ways to go to achieve this, but I am excited because for the first time in my life I know what I am going to do. And I owe that to this story.
When I saw that Risa was looking for guest bloggers I jumped at the chance for two reasons. The first reason is that, though she already knows, I wanted to remind Risa that she is not alone in this. The second reason is that I am passionate about infertility. It's more enjoyable to talk to others who will listen than it is to talk to myself.
Let me share with you my story. My husband and I met on a float trip back in 2007. As I got to know him I knew this was someone special. I'm lucky he felt the same way, and in June 2011 we were married. In August of that year we decided to try having a baby. I had a feeling the job might not be too easy. What I didn't know was how immensely hard the job would be. I have PCOS, which is an endocrine disorder that interferes with insulin and hormone levels causing all kinds of fun issues in a woman's body, including being overweight, acne, unwanted hair, and infertility due to anovulation.
I started off with my OBGYN, who prescribed Clomid and timed intercourse. When after two months on Clomid 50mg I did not ovulate, my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist, who is a doctor specializing in infertility. It took going to an RE to get the PCOS diagnosed officially, even though the signs were obvious. I was referred to one RE, but was not satisfied with that office, so eventually we switched to the clinic I am at now. So far we have tried a total of 7 cycles of Clomid. I do ovulate on 150mg. I also found out in December that not only can I ovulate, I can get pregnant. We had our first BFP (big fat positive in infertility language).
Sitting here typing this, I'm feeling this flood of emotions. Seven months later and, though I am past the tough grieving stages, I'm still deeply affected. I was supposed to wait until 14DPO to take a pregnancy test but I knew something was different. I can't totally place why, but I just knew, so on 13DPO I took a test and sure enough I saw my first ever positive pregnancy test. I was in shock. I happened to be off work that week so the first thing I did was go to the store and buy something to use to tell my husband our news. I had thought about this before, how I would tell him he was going to be a daddy. But, suddenly nothing seemed good enough. It had to be special. It had to be just right. Walking down the aisles of Target, it came to me.
You see, something about me that you wouldn't know if you don't know me is that I love shoes. And I have a lot. And my husband picks on me for this. So when I passed the women's shoes I saw a pair of cute leopard print flats. I bought those, a pair of newborn boots, and pink and blue tissue paper. I came home and took the women's shoes out of the box and put the tissue paper in first, then the two little bitty boots that our sweet little one would wear. I was so anxious for him to get home and when he did I casually gave him the box to show him the new shoes I bought. When he rolled his eyes I promised him he would like them and that they were worth the purchase. He opened the box while I was anxiously smiling and giddy standing next to him. It took him a minute to catch on to the message, but I'll never forget the look on his face when he did. He had the biggest eyes, a giant smile, and he said, 'We did it?!" Yes, my love, we did it. We sat on the couch curled up in each other and we talked about everything husbands and wives talk about when the are expecting. Yes, we even talked about names. We had our little piece of heaven.
You see, something about me that you wouldn't know if you don't know me is that I love shoes. And I have a lot. And my husband picks on me for this. So when I passed the women's shoes I saw a pair of cute leopard print flats. I bought those, a pair of newborn boots, and pink and blue tissue paper. I came home and took the women's shoes out of the box and put the tissue paper in first, then the two little bitty boots that our sweet little one would wear. I was so anxious for him to get home and when he did I casually gave him the box to show him the new shoes I bought. When he rolled his eyes I promised him he would like them and that they were worth the purchase. He opened the box while I was anxiously smiling and giddy standing next to him. It took him a minute to catch on to the message, but I'll never forget the look on his face when he did. He had the biggest eyes, a giant smile, and he said, 'We did it?!" Yes, my love, we did it. We sat on the couch curled up in each other and we talked about everything husbands and wives talk about when the are expecting. Yes, we even talked about names. We had our little piece of heaven.
That was a Monday. I called the RE's office the next day and we scheduled my first beta for Wednesday. When we got those results back, we were told the number was low (15), but that it could just be a "late implanter." They had me go back in 48 hours wanting to see that number double, which it did, but barely. The next beta stayed the same. That's when we were told it was over. I had started bleeding around that time so I wasn't surprised. I had to do about 7-8 betas because my hcg was not going down. Eventually I had to go for an ultrasound. At this point I would have been about 7 weeks pregnant. At the ultrasound they found a small empty sac measuring about 4 weeks. Since there was still a sac I had to take a medication that the doctor inserted to complete the miscarriage. The whole process from start to finish took about a month for the beta to come back down to zero. I now have a permanent note in my file that I see every time I go to the RE office. The note says, "Abnormal product of conception". How's that for a punch in the gut.
What I've learned is that all women experience different feelings about miscarriage and different ways to deal with it. Our loss was very early. We didn't even get to the first ultrasound. We didn't get to hear the heartbeat. We never gave that baby a name. Heck we didn't even get to tell our families before it was over. I never felt attached to our baby. I guess I was still in shock and went straight from that to sadness. Sometimes I feel guilty that I was detached from the pregnancy itself. Like I was never pregnant at all. But that's the funny thing about grief. When I think about that time in our lives I think less about the pregnancy and more about the process I had to go through to completely miscarry. In all honesty, I just wanted it to be over so we could start trying again. At that point we had been trying to have a baby for a year and a half and I didn't want to waste anymore time. It took us three months for my body to recover so we could try again. If I'm not reliving that process, I'm reliving the moment that I told my husband about the pregnancy and then about the miscarriage.
For myself to be in this emotional pain is one thing, but to see the tears in my husband's eyes is gut wrenching. Sometimes I feel like I did something wrong. How could I build him up and then tear him back down like that?? Yes, I know it's not my fault, but the mind makes us think irrationally sometimes. But my husband, you see, he is the best person I know. Our infertility is because of me, but it's ours to deal with together. Yet on the days that I am weak, he stands tall and strong. One day I just want to switch places with him so I can stand tall and strong for him. Husbands hurt though this too and I want everyone to know this.
For myself to be in this emotional pain is one thing, but to see the tears in my husband's eyes is gut wrenching. Sometimes I feel like I did something wrong. How could I build him up and then tear him back down like that?? Yes, I know it's not my fault, but the mind makes us think irrationally sometimes. But my husband, you see, he is the best person I know. Our infertility is because of me, but it's ours to deal with together. Yet on the days that I am weak, he stands tall and strong. One day I just want to switch places with him so I can stand tall and strong for him. Husbands hurt though this too and I want everyone to know this.
I wonder at times if I did something to cause the miscarriage. Do I need to lose more weight? Did I inhale too many fumes when I painted the living room? Should I have stopped running? Did the day I forgot take my medication make this happen? When I have these thoughts I have to remind myself that I am not to blame. I believe in God. I have faith in His plan for us. This was not our time.
I have been thinking the last two years of what God's purpose for all of this is. I know now that there is at least one reason why this is our story. Infertility has enlightened me and answered what I have been trying to answer for some time. What am I destined to do as a career? As I said before, I'm passionate about infertility. I understand the emotions behind it and what it can do to a marriage (ours has been strengthened but others are not so lucky). I'm also passionate about mental health. I'm halfway done with supervision to become a licensed clinical social worker. Currently, I do crisis counseling but my goal is to move towards having a practice for infertility therapy. I have a ways to go to achieve this, but I am excited because for the first time in my life I know what I am going to do. And I owe that to this story.
So fast forward to where we are now. It has been two years and two months since we started trying to have a baby. I have done a total of 7 cycles of Clomid and 2 cycles of Femara with timed intercourse. The miscarriage was our only pregnancy. We're currently taking a break and then moving onto IUI.
If you are still with me, thank you for connecting with me through my story. If you, yourself, are in the trenches of infertility or loss, please know you are not alone. Remember that you are more than just infertility/loss. Don't let that one thing define you. You are strong. You got this.
Hakuna Matata,
Mandy
Monday, October 14, 2013
A Silent Loss
There are many
types of loss. Some involve the loss of someone naturally or due to
illness or injury. Some happen in old age, while others in early
years. Some even happen silently, almost without notice.
That's a chemical
pregnancy – or, as I prefer to call it, an early miscarriage. It
happens silently in your body, without much sign or symptom, almost
as though it's not happening at all.
Some people argue
that the less you anticipate a pregnancy, or the shorter your
pregnancy, the less it hurts. Some people think miscarriage is
nothing to grieve at all, whether it's in the first two weeks, or in
the last two weeks. I don't believe those people have ever
experienced a miscarriage...because, if they had, I doubt they would
feel that way.
For me, the hardest
part of it all was the missed experiences. I didn't even know I was
pregnant before I lost them. I have never had a positive pregnancy
test – not one. Had I not been monitored by my doctor I'm sure I
wouldn't even know I had miscarried. I never got to surprise my
husband with the news, or share it with my family. All I ever got to
tell them was I've lost. I sat there, wondering how someone so
consumed with fertility could possibly miss those short few, precious
days I was given as a mother. Those few days that I should have
treasured and remembered – and I didn't even know they were there.
I missed out on the only life any of my babies had, and then they
were gone.
It was shocking to
me how deeply hurt I was. I admit, I was one of those people who
thought if you didn't know you were pregnant it couldn't hurt that
bad. But I was wrong. Being in throes of infertility, every second of
my life was consumed with trying to get pregnant, or fantasies of
actually getting pregnant. I had dreams and plans and wishes for my
future children. I had names picked out and nursery themes planned.
Then, when I found out their precious lives had come and gone without
my notice, I was devastated. As time went on and I began to realize I
may never have a living child, I was even more devastated. Though
time has lessened my pain, it is not gone. It will never be gone.
No loss is easy to
bear. No loss is painless. No loss is forgettable. They all leave a
footprint on our hearts, and an ache in our chest. Some of the
footprints are larger than others, but they're all there. All just as
deep, all just as clear.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month
In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan established October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, with October 15th specifically set aside for a remembrance day. He said, "When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, the are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn't a word to describe them. This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United states and around the world. It is also mean to inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirths, birth defects, SIDs and other causes."
I read this statement on http://www.october15th.com/. It really resonated with me. It's so true. There is no title for a mother or father that has lost a child. In fact, if the couple has no surviving children, most of the time they wouldn't even be considered a parent by many people, especially in the case of a miscarriage. How terribly wrong. Losing a child is a pain that is beyond compare. It goes against nature, against how things SHOULD be. A parent should never have to bury their child, they should never know the pain of living without them. Maybe it's silly to say, we all know it happens all the time. But you would think that an awful thing like this would at least have a name.
In October, the online community of those effected by pregnancy and infant loss comes together to recognize all the babies we have lost. Whether lost only a few days after conception or after several months of life, we remember our lost babies.
This October I remember the baby I lost far too soon. The baby I'd wanted so badly, gone almost before I knew I had it. I grieve for what might have been. I wonder if my baby was a boy or a girl, what he or she would have been like.
I also grieve for my mother's first child, the sister I never met, who died at only five months.
I grieve for every mother and father that has lost a child. There are far too many of us.
Throughout the month of October, our contributors will share their stories of loss on this blog. I would like to invite all of our readers to do the same. You can submit your stories via our contact form, or send an email to askaninfertile at yahoo dot com and I will post them here. You can chose to remain anonymous if you would prefer.
At 7:00 pm on October 15, candles will be lit around the world in remembrance of our lost children. Let's share our stories. We can honor all of the angels gone too soon.
I read this statement on http://www.october15th.com/. It really resonated with me. It's so true. There is no title for a mother or father that has lost a child. In fact, if the couple has no surviving children, most of the time they wouldn't even be considered a parent by many people, especially in the case of a miscarriage. How terribly wrong. Losing a child is a pain that is beyond compare. It goes against nature, against how things SHOULD be. A parent should never have to bury their child, they should never know the pain of living without them. Maybe it's silly to say, we all know it happens all the time. But you would think that an awful thing like this would at least have a name.
In October, the online community of those effected by pregnancy and infant loss comes together to recognize all the babies we have lost. Whether lost only a few days after conception or after several months of life, we remember our lost babies.
This October I remember the baby I lost far too soon. The baby I'd wanted so badly, gone almost before I knew I had it. I grieve for what might have been. I wonder if my baby was a boy or a girl, what he or she would have been like.
I also grieve for my mother's first child, the sister I never met, who died at only five months.
I grieve for every mother and father that has lost a child. There are far too many of us.
Throughout the month of October, our contributors will share their stories of loss on this blog. I would like to invite all of our readers to do the same. You can submit your stories via our contact form, or send an email to askaninfertile at yahoo dot com and I will post them here. You can chose to remain anonymous if you would prefer.
At 7:00 pm on October 15, candles will be lit around the world in remembrance of our lost children. Let's share our stories. We can honor all of the angels gone too soon.
What to never say to someone who just had a miscarriage.
October is Pregnancy and infant loss month, so to honor it, I will make a list of very, very stupid things I have been said after a loss that should never ever be said to a grieving mother.
Seriously, take notes.
Oh, Miscarriages are common in the first trimester.
While we KNOW it's true...it doesn't make it hurt less. Using this sentence is a real slap in the face...think of it as a " Oh, it's not bad really, happens all the time." NEWSFLASH: It is bad. It does hurt. It is still a child that passed away, even if he was just alive in our womb. It was alive and that is all we needed to know to feel love for it. I know you mean that as comforting...but trust me, it is not.
I know what you are going trough.
No, you dont. Simply because not everyone is the same. Simply because we do not deal with things the same way. You may have lived a similar situation but you can't know how I feel and what I am going trough. Once again, this is said in sympathy, I get it. I was guilty of saying that before too, when I didn't know better. It is not comforting though. It is infuriating.
You were barely pregnant, get over it!
Do I need to explain why this one is stupid? Seriously. Gee, thanks! ( And yes, someone actually told me that one haha. Woo.)
When I had mine( miscarriage), I did not cry as much.
As stated above, not everyone grieves the same. If the mother feels the need to cry, by all means let her. It means she is comfortable enough around you to actually let you see her sensitive side and trusts you enough to share her vulnerability with you.
Now here is a list of what to say and do for a person who just had a miscarriage.
Listen
Let the mother cry, vent, yell or just talk. She needs it. She needs someone to for once shut up and just listen to her instead of someone trying to tell her how she should be acting.
Be there
As simple as that. Just be there if she needs a hug, help around the house, extra kleenex or a huge tub of ice cream.( She is more likely to share said Ice Cream...unless she is me. But that is because I am a fat ass and love ice cream too much.)
Take her out
Get her out of her house and do something fun. Whatever it is. Oh she might start talking about her baby and her pregnancy. She might cry...but do option one and two.
"So, How was your day?"
That simple. Ask her how she is. Ask her how her day went. If she needs help. Ask her anything but with sincerity and interest. Have a mundane discussion. Even if you want to know about the miscarriage, don't ask. If she wants to tell you, she will.
Seriously, take notes.
Oh, Miscarriages are common in the first trimester.
While we KNOW it's true...it doesn't make it hurt less. Using this sentence is a real slap in the face...think of it as a " Oh, it's not bad really, happens all the time." NEWSFLASH: It is bad. It does hurt. It is still a child that passed away, even if he was just alive in our womb. It was alive and that is all we needed to know to feel love for it. I know you mean that as comforting...but trust me, it is not.
I know what you are going trough.
No, you dont. Simply because not everyone is the same. Simply because we do not deal with things the same way. You may have lived a similar situation but you can't know how I feel and what I am going trough. Once again, this is said in sympathy, I get it. I was guilty of saying that before too, when I didn't know better. It is not comforting though. It is infuriating.
You were barely pregnant, get over it!
Do I need to explain why this one is stupid? Seriously. Gee, thanks! ( And yes, someone actually told me that one haha. Woo.)
When I had mine( miscarriage), I did not cry as much.
As stated above, not everyone grieves the same. If the mother feels the need to cry, by all means let her. It means she is comfortable enough around you to actually let you see her sensitive side and trusts you enough to share her vulnerability with you.
Now here is a list of what to say and do for a person who just had a miscarriage.
Listen
Let the mother cry, vent, yell or just talk. She needs it. She needs someone to for once shut up and just listen to her instead of someone trying to tell her how she should be acting.
Be there
As simple as that. Just be there if she needs a hug, help around the house, extra kleenex or a huge tub of ice cream.( She is more likely to share said Ice Cream...unless she is me. But that is because I am a fat ass and love ice cream too much.)
Take her out
Get her out of her house and do something fun. Whatever it is. Oh she might start talking about her baby and her pregnancy. She might cry...but do option one and two.
"So, How was your day?"
That simple. Ask her how she is. Ask her how her day went. If she needs help. Ask her anything but with sincerity and interest. Have a mundane discussion. Even if you want to know about the miscarriage, don't ask. If she wants to tell you, she will.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
IComLeavWe
Hello to everyone visiting from ICLW!! Welcome to Ask An Infertile! This is a blog I started about a month ago intended to be a place of knowledge and fellowship for everyone who has suffered from infertility or pregnancy loss and those trying to conceive.
So who am I? I'm Melissa. This blog is new but I've been a member of the blogger community since 2007 at my personal blog A Place Where I Can Be Me. It started out as just a place to write about random things, my marriage, and later my first son. Eventually, it became a place to write about my struggle to conceive my second child. I wound up being diagnosed with unexplained secondary infertility. I went through testing and treatment and a devastating early miscarriage in 2011 before I finally conceived my second son. Over the course of my struggle, I became very connected to the online community formed by woman who struggle with infertility and have experienced pregnancy loss. Once my own journey was resolved, I still felt a desire to stay connected to the community, to find a way to help others. My introduction post on this blog goes into more detail, but that's basically why I decided to start this blog.
When I came up with the idea for the blog, I knew I didn't want to do it alone. My own struggle is only one limited point of view in terms of infertility. I have read and researched quite a bit, but that can't compare to the stories so many others could contribute. So I went over my extensive blogroll and sent out feelers to some of my favorite blogs dealing with infertility and pregnancy loss. I was lucky enough to get a great response and now Ask An Infertile is now 7 contributors strong! We're just starting out, but we all have high hopes for this blog. I know that together we have a lot of knowledge and some great stories to share that can really be related to.
But we need readers! One of the big things I want for this blog is for it to become a blog FOR the community. We want to write about what our readers want to read about! We want to be driven by our followers. IComLeavWe seemed a great place to start building a following!
So I'm really glad you're here! Please take a minute to poke around our humble little blog and if you have any questions, suggestions, or if you'd like to be involved, leave a comment, use the comment form or send us an email at askaninfertile at yahoo dot com.
Thanks for reading!!
So who am I? I'm Melissa. This blog is new but I've been a member of the blogger community since 2007 at my personal blog A Place Where I Can Be Me. It started out as just a place to write about random things, my marriage, and later my first son. Eventually, it became a place to write about my struggle to conceive my second child. I wound up being diagnosed with unexplained secondary infertility. I went through testing and treatment and a devastating early miscarriage in 2011 before I finally conceived my second son. Over the course of my struggle, I became very connected to the online community formed by woman who struggle with infertility and have experienced pregnancy loss. Once my own journey was resolved, I still felt a desire to stay connected to the community, to find a way to help others. My introduction post on this blog goes into more detail, but that's basically why I decided to start this blog.
When I came up with the idea for the blog, I knew I didn't want to do it alone. My own struggle is only one limited point of view in terms of infertility. I have read and researched quite a bit, but that can't compare to the stories so many others could contribute. So I went over my extensive blogroll and sent out feelers to some of my favorite blogs dealing with infertility and pregnancy loss. I was lucky enough to get a great response and now Ask An Infertile is now 7 contributors strong! We're just starting out, but we all have high hopes for this blog. I know that together we have a lot of knowledge and some great stories to share that can really be related to.
But we need readers! One of the big things I want for this blog is for it to become a blog FOR the community. We want to write about what our readers want to read about! We want to be driven by our followers. IComLeavWe seemed a great place to start building a following!
So I'm really glad you're here! Please take a minute to poke around our humble little blog and if you have any questions, suggestions, or if you'd like to be involved, leave a comment, use the comment form or send us an email at askaninfertile at yahoo dot com.
Thanks for reading!!
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Hakuna Matata
First of all, thank you, Melissa for allowing me to contribute to this project. My hope is that we reach many people and create an avenue for anyone with an interest in infertility to ask questions and seek answers. If you are following, please help get the word out about the blog and share the link.
Sometimes you never know what your true passions are until you are forced into the culture of whatever it is you now find yourself passionate about. I've been vocal about my feelings towards infertility and our story for a while now. (Our meaning me and my hot, handsome, best friend of a husband of two years). I find that so many more people care about us than I really knew of previously. I mean, I knew we had friends and family that "care", but now I know who really cares. I tell them, don't tiptoe around things that may be hard for us to hear, like someone else getting pregnant. I say, if you are confused about what to say to me, don't ask everyone else what you should say, ask me what would be helpful. Now that we've been at this for some time, I have a lot of people thinking of us and asking how we are and what's going on. Where am I at in a cycle? When have I peed on a stick? How long before old aunt flow arrives? I realize not everybody is that comfortable talking about these personal things. However, I'll tell you exactly why I am. Because in December, after a year and a half of ttc (I have pcos), when we got our very first and only bfp and our very first miscarriage, I realized we were never alone. At my godson's christening, when we didn't know still if our bfp would stick, I cried. I held that sweet baby boy, my cousins on either side of me holding my hands, I cried, and then I smiled. And at Christmas, when we showed up in our pajamas and just sobbed and sobbed, twenty plus arms of love were embracing us. And we actually managed to enjoy Christmas.
It's been two years of ttc, including a total of 7 rounds of Clomid and two rounds of Femara. I'm also on Metformin 1500mg. We are about to start our last month of trying by way of old fashioned intercourse before we add IUI to our list of things tried. It's about to get much more complicated, inconvenient, and costly. When we get that next bfp, people will know right away. We won't wait to tell because people are what got us through the last two years.
Passion. There's that word again. I know a lot about infertility. I'm also passionate about mental health. I'm halfway to being licensed to practice therapy. I read a lot, I ask a lot of questions, I learn as much as my brain can absorb. I don't know everything, but I know a great deal. And I'm passionate about paying it forward. Blogging is a form of self preservation for me. And Ask An Infertile is hopefully going to serve the same purpose for others.
Here's my blog: www.auntmimi2010.blogspot.com
And my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/HakunaMatataSurvivingInfertility
Sometimes you never know what your true passions are until you are forced into the culture of whatever it is you now find yourself passionate about. I've been vocal about my feelings towards infertility and our story for a while now. (Our meaning me and my hot, handsome, best friend of a husband of two years). I find that so many more people care about us than I really knew of previously. I mean, I knew we had friends and family that "care", but now I know who really cares. I tell them, don't tiptoe around things that may be hard for us to hear, like someone else getting pregnant. I say, if you are confused about what to say to me, don't ask everyone else what you should say, ask me what would be helpful. Now that we've been at this for some time, I have a lot of people thinking of us and asking how we are and what's going on. Where am I at in a cycle? When have I peed on a stick? How long before old aunt flow arrives? I realize not everybody is that comfortable talking about these personal things. However, I'll tell you exactly why I am. Because in December, after a year and a half of ttc (I have pcos), when we got our very first and only bfp and our very first miscarriage, I realized we were never alone. At my godson's christening, when we didn't know still if our bfp would stick, I cried. I held that sweet baby boy, my cousins on either side of me holding my hands, I cried, and then I smiled. And at Christmas, when we showed up in our pajamas and just sobbed and sobbed, twenty plus arms of love were embracing us. And we actually managed to enjoy Christmas.
It's been two years of ttc, including a total of 7 rounds of Clomid and two rounds of Femara. I'm also on Metformin 1500mg. We are about to start our last month of trying by way of old fashioned intercourse before we add IUI to our list of things tried. It's about to get much more complicated, inconvenient, and costly. When we get that next bfp, people will know right away. We won't wait to tell because people are what got us through the last two years.
Passion. There's that word again. I know a lot about infertility. I'm also passionate about mental health. I'm halfway to being licensed to practice therapy. I read a lot, I ask a lot of questions, I learn as much as my brain can absorb. I don't know everything, but I know a great deal. And I'm passionate about paying it forward. Blogging is a form of self preservation for me. And Ask An Infertile is hopefully going to serve the same purpose for others.
Here's my blog: www.auntmimi2010.blogspot.com
And my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/HakunaMatataSurvivingInfertility
A backstory on Amy!
Hello and Welcome to Ask an Infertile!
I was thrilled when Melissa, my dear awesome friend, announced that she was starting this blog. I was even more thrilled when she said she was looking for contributers! My struggle with infertility was actually not with conceiving but with carrying babies past the first trimester( and even then...but that will be discussed further down!)...so here it is, a long biography on me and my struggle to actually have in my arms my two fantastic children. Please note though that I am a Canadian( our health systems are not the same) and that I speak French( our language is not the sa...wait, that is just an evidence. What I meant with that was that probably some sentences might be weirdly constructed or words might be mispelled. I do my very best and do have an education! I swear!!)
I am 26 years old. I was pregnant six times and have two living children. six pregnancies in six years of being frisky between the sheets. I am a mean machine...or not. I got pregnant for the first time I was 18 years old. Young, immature...definitely not ready for motherhood. I decided to terminate that pregnancy after a lot of fighting with my boyfriend at the time, who was not ready either. I was 12 and a half weeks along.
I got on birth control pills for a little while,then we decided we actually wanted to try for a baby. Neither of us had grieved the loss of our child correctly and we naively thought that a new pregnancy would put a balm on our wound. I got pregnant again a year and a half after the loss. I was then 19. Oh joy, I thought as I saw the second line appear on that stick. I was pregnant again! Then I started panicking. I was starting a new job two days later! I went on working and kept my pregnancy a secret, wanting to at least finish training before announcing I would leave to birth a child. Two weeks into the six weeks training, I started spotting. Bright, red and horrifying blood. The spotting only intensified, followed by cramps. That night, at home, I passed a cloth that was tissue. I was about 7 or 8 weeks along. My first miscarriage. I was...devastated. I had killed my first baby, now the universe and karma were taking my second child!
It took me a while before getting pregnant again. We were not trying, not preventing. And then BAM, in June 2009 there it was: a bright, beautiful and dark positive on a first response. I cried, then laughed. I was pregnant for a third time! I couldn't help but be scared out of my mind for this baby to stick...and he did! In february 2010 I gave birth to my son, my perfect little boy. Finally I had a baby, the baby I had been wanting for close to three years. I was ecstatic, in love...and had mad baby fever. seven months after his birth, I was back in the TTC game, determined to have an other baby soon so my son would have a sibling close to his age. HA...right.
You see...TTCing is a bitch. Because you want it badly...and nothing. Month after month after month you are disapointed. Month after month you grieve that pregnancy that never happenned. Month after month...it hurts. And boy it was long before I finally did conceive. My big boy was almost two. It was in September 2011 that I got a positive again...and after four days I started bleeding.Chemical pregnancy.I was having a rough time in my relationship at that point. My son's father and I decided at that point to stop trying to conceive and work on our relationship.I was checking my cervix to identify the days I was fertile in the month and was able to pin point my ovulation fairly easily and identify the days I was fertile. Worked great to avoid a pregnancy...for a few months. I am allergic to latex( yay...) and one of my fertile days...well we had le sex. I warned my then boyfriend that I was fertile. He did not care. and two weeks later( december first 2011)...tada! I was pregnant for the fifth time!...and ten days later, I became a single mother.
Let's just say that 2012 started sourly for me. 25 and moving back in with my parents with my near 2 years old son and with an other one on the way. I debated a long time with myself, unsure if I should interrupt the pregnancy or keep my baby. I also started a relationship with my now husband, who was a dear friend of mine waiting patiently.( Patient, patient man!) I finally decided I was keeping the baby and confronted my ex about it because he didn't wanted me to go trough with the pregnancy. We went together to my first prenatal appointment. We couldn't hear a heartbeat so I was sent for an ultrasound. I was 11 weeks along.
On the ultrasound, we saw a perfectly fine and alive baby wiggling around in my stomach. I joked that it was a girl because it was dancing and prancing around. I was pregnant, my baby was alive and healthy, I was in a new relationship with the perfect man for me...my life was starting to take a turn for the better.
Or so I thought.
three weeks later, at exactly 14 weeks 1 day I woke up with insane pressure. I thought I needed to pee so started to walk towards the bathroom. I did not reach it. I got soaked on the doorstep. Thinking I peed myself, I cleaned up real quick and went back to bed. An hour later, I woke up again with regular contractions. It wasn't pee...it was my water that had broken. I will spare you the details of what happenned next, for your sake and mine. To this day, this loss still hurts. It was a little boy. I named him Augustin.
After losing my son, I went on a rollercoaster of emotions, really. At my check up, the high risk doctor thought my uterus looked funny and sent a request for a MRI. I went trough an emergency D&C because I had some leftover placenta that was undetected at the follow up that got majorly infected. And I waited...and waited...and waited for the call abck for the MRI. I finally got the test in June. In July, I got my results. Everything was normal! OH JOY!...still my loss was unexplained. The doctor prescribed me progesterone pills that needed to be taken as soon as I would get a positive, to help with my placenta in case that was where the problem was. In spetember, I finally got an other positive and started the intra vaginal pills. Now a year later, I am sitting here with a gorgeous and fussy little girl on my lap. My journey trough baby making is over. My husband and I decided that we were done after having our little ray of sunshine, my rainbow baby.
So...that was/is my story with TTC and losses. It is a bit confused and clearly amateur haha...I am just a beginner when it comes to this blogging thing...;)
I was thrilled when Melissa, my dear awesome friend, announced that she was starting this blog. I was even more thrilled when she said she was looking for contributers! My struggle with infertility was actually not with conceiving but with carrying babies past the first trimester( and even then...but that will be discussed further down!)...so here it is, a long biography on me and my struggle to actually have in my arms my two fantastic children. Please note though that I am a Canadian( our health systems are not the same) and that I speak French( our language is not the sa...wait, that is just an evidence. What I meant with that was that probably some sentences might be weirdly constructed or words might be mispelled. I do my very best and do have an education! I swear!!)
I am 26 years old. I was pregnant six times and have two living children. six pregnancies in six years of being frisky between the sheets. I am a mean machine...or not. I got pregnant for the first time I was 18 years old. Young, immature...definitely not ready for motherhood. I decided to terminate that pregnancy after a lot of fighting with my boyfriend at the time, who was not ready either. I was 12 and a half weeks along.
I got on birth control pills for a little while,then we decided we actually wanted to try for a baby. Neither of us had grieved the loss of our child correctly and we naively thought that a new pregnancy would put a balm on our wound. I got pregnant again a year and a half after the loss. I was then 19. Oh joy, I thought as I saw the second line appear on that stick. I was pregnant again! Then I started panicking. I was starting a new job two days later! I went on working and kept my pregnancy a secret, wanting to at least finish training before announcing I would leave to birth a child. Two weeks into the six weeks training, I started spotting. Bright, red and horrifying blood. The spotting only intensified, followed by cramps. That night, at home, I passed a cloth that was tissue. I was about 7 or 8 weeks along. My first miscarriage. I was...devastated. I had killed my first baby, now the universe and karma were taking my second child!
It took me a while before getting pregnant again. We were not trying, not preventing. And then BAM, in June 2009 there it was: a bright, beautiful and dark positive on a first response. I cried, then laughed. I was pregnant for a third time! I couldn't help but be scared out of my mind for this baby to stick...and he did! In february 2010 I gave birth to my son, my perfect little boy. Finally I had a baby, the baby I had been wanting for close to three years. I was ecstatic, in love...and had mad baby fever. seven months after his birth, I was back in the TTC game, determined to have an other baby soon so my son would have a sibling close to his age. HA...right.
You see...TTCing is a bitch. Because you want it badly...and nothing. Month after month after month you are disapointed. Month after month you grieve that pregnancy that never happenned. Month after month...it hurts. And boy it was long before I finally did conceive. My big boy was almost two. It was in September 2011 that I got a positive again...and after four days I started bleeding.Chemical pregnancy.I was having a rough time in my relationship at that point. My son's father and I decided at that point to stop trying to conceive and work on our relationship.I was checking my cervix to identify the days I was fertile in the month and was able to pin point my ovulation fairly easily and identify the days I was fertile. Worked great to avoid a pregnancy...for a few months. I am allergic to latex( yay...) and one of my fertile days...well we had le sex. I warned my then boyfriend that I was fertile. He did not care. and two weeks later( december first 2011)...tada! I was pregnant for the fifth time!...and ten days later, I became a single mother.
Let's just say that 2012 started sourly for me. 25 and moving back in with my parents with my near 2 years old son and with an other one on the way. I debated a long time with myself, unsure if I should interrupt the pregnancy or keep my baby. I also started a relationship with my now husband, who was a dear friend of mine waiting patiently.( Patient, patient man!) I finally decided I was keeping the baby and confronted my ex about it because he didn't wanted me to go trough with the pregnancy. We went together to my first prenatal appointment. We couldn't hear a heartbeat so I was sent for an ultrasound. I was 11 weeks along.
On the ultrasound, we saw a perfectly fine and alive baby wiggling around in my stomach. I joked that it was a girl because it was dancing and prancing around. I was pregnant, my baby was alive and healthy, I was in a new relationship with the perfect man for me...my life was starting to take a turn for the better.
Or so I thought.
three weeks later, at exactly 14 weeks 1 day I woke up with insane pressure. I thought I needed to pee so started to walk towards the bathroom. I did not reach it. I got soaked on the doorstep. Thinking I peed myself, I cleaned up real quick and went back to bed. An hour later, I woke up again with regular contractions. It wasn't pee...it was my water that had broken. I will spare you the details of what happenned next, for your sake and mine. To this day, this loss still hurts. It was a little boy. I named him Augustin.
After losing my son, I went on a rollercoaster of emotions, really. At my check up, the high risk doctor thought my uterus looked funny and sent a request for a MRI. I went trough an emergency D&C because I had some leftover placenta that was undetected at the follow up that got majorly infected. And I waited...and waited...and waited for the call abck for the MRI. I finally got the test in June. In July, I got my results. Everything was normal! OH JOY!...still my loss was unexplained. The doctor prescribed me progesterone pills that needed to be taken as soon as I would get a positive, to help with my placenta in case that was where the problem was. In spetember, I finally got an other positive and started the intra vaginal pills. Now a year later, I am sitting here with a gorgeous and fussy little girl on my lap. My journey trough baby making is over. My husband and I decided that we were done after having our little ray of sunshine, my rainbow baby.
So...that was/is my story with TTC and losses. It is a bit confused and clearly amateur haha...I am just a beginner when it comes to this blogging thing...;)
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Unexplained Infertility
Labels. They are everywhere. As much as we try not to, we are always using them. During my struggle with infertility, I "gained" this label.
Unexplained infertility, meaning that if there was a reason I wasn't getting pregnant, they couldn't identify it. This is a label you get if all the tests that are run produce normal results. My husband's sperm analysis was normal, as were my blood tests for insulin resistance and my baseline ultrasound. My estrogen, prolactin, FSH (follicle stimulating hormone), and TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) levels were all fine. It appeared that I ovulated on my own, based on my progesterone levels late in my cycle. And yet, I wasn't getting pregnant.
I found that not having a reason, not having something to blame, was frustrating. If you don't know what you're up against, it can be difficult to fight it. At first, my RE (reproductive endocrinologist) thought that a round or two of Clomid would do the trick. It would give my body a little boost, maybe help timing a bit. When that didn't work, he suggested an HSG test. (Click here for a definition) The test showed no major abnormalities, although my left fallopian tube did not fill with dye. My RE was sure that this was because I have experiencing some pretty substantial cramping during the test (look for a post describing my HSG experience soon). I trusted him, and we carried on, bolstered by the knowledge that many woman have a higher chance of conceiving shortly after the test is done, usually because small blockages and debris could be flushed out by the test. Around this same time, I told one of my nurses that I was having spotting leading up to my period, around 11 or 12 days after ovulation. Dr. B decided to having me take progesterone supplements during my leutal phase. Progesterone is a hormone produced by the body, the level of which rises after ovulation. If a woman becomes pregnant, the corpus leuteum cyst, which is left behind after the follicle releases the egg, is maintained by the HCG (the pregnancy hormone) in the blood, so it continues to release progesterone. If the body doesn't start producing HCG, the progesterone level falls and the lining of the uterus is shed.
Dr. B theorized that perhaps I was a late implanter, meaning for one reason or another, an egg takes a little longer to travel to the uterus to implant. If it took longer than 11 or 12 days, it was possible that my uterine lining was already beginning to shed before a fertilized egg could implant there. By having me take supplements, my progesterone level stayed up, and I didn't start my period. If I tested negative for pregnancy, I was to stop taking the progesterone supplements and my period would start 2 or 3 days later.
Two months later, we switched to Femara. I responded well, ovulating earlier than even on Clomid. My normal ovulation was sometime between day 18 and day 22. This isn't necessarily indicative of a problem. Most woman ovulate anywhere between CD 11 and 21. Fertility drugs made me ovulate sooner in my cycle. Later ovulation can sometimes point to poor egg quality, but not always.
After our first round of Femara, when I found out I wasn't pregnant, I went in for my usual ultrasound. While I was there, I expressed my frustration to one of the nurses. She was very nice and suggested we do a more monitored cycle and try a trigger shot, which would better time the moment of ovulation and make it stronger.
That month, we conceived. Did lengthening my leutal phase help me get pregnant? Did ovulating sooner in my cycle help me conceive? Was it just chance? We can't be sure. Since we didn't know what, if anything, was behind me inability to get pregnant, we will probably never know, unless a problem arises. It's possible we could go on and have more children easily. But we could also experience the same problems.
The point to this post is this: Fertility issues like PCOS, endometriosis, and low ovarian reserve are fairly well known and if the correct tests are done or if symptoms are noted, the are usually quickly identified and treated. Less obvious issues (whether there is a known medical reason or not) can also lead to years of infertility. Maybe a lot of woman labelled with unexplained infertility have a medical issue that just can't be identified yet. Science has come a long way, but we are constantly hearing of new developments, tests, and treatments, perhaps someday there won't be so many people with this label. I certainly hope so. And I applaud doctors, like my own, that try to treat the problem, even if they can't really identify it. I don't think I'd have my second son if not for them.
Unexplained infertility, meaning that if there was a reason I wasn't getting pregnant, they couldn't identify it. This is a label you get if all the tests that are run produce normal results. My husband's sperm analysis was normal, as were my blood tests for insulin resistance and my baseline ultrasound. My estrogen, prolactin, FSH (follicle stimulating hormone), and TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) levels were all fine. It appeared that I ovulated on my own, based on my progesterone levels late in my cycle. And yet, I wasn't getting pregnant.
I found that not having a reason, not having something to blame, was frustrating. If you don't know what you're up against, it can be difficult to fight it. At first, my RE (reproductive endocrinologist) thought that a round or two of Clomid would do the trick. It would give my body a little boost, maybe help timing a bit. When that didn't work, he suggested an HSG test. (Click here for a definition) The test showed no major abnormalities, although my left fallopian tube did not fill with dye. My RE was sure that this was because I have experiencing some pretty substantial cramping during the test (look for a post describing my HSG experience soon). I trusted him, and we carried on, bolstered by the knowledge that many woman have a higher chance of conceiving shortly after the test is done, usually because small blockages and debris could be flushed out by the test. Around this same time, I told one of my nurses that I was having spotting leading up to my period, around 11 or 12 days after ovulation. Dr. B decided to having me take progesterone supplements during my leutal phase. Progesterone is a hormone produced by the body, the level of which rises after ovulation. If a woman becomes pregnant, the corpus leuteum cyst, which is left behind after the follicle releases the egg, is maintained by the HCG (the pregnancy hormone) in the blood, so it continues to release progesterone. If the body doesn't start producing HCG, the progesterone level falls and the lining of the uterus is shed.
Dr. B theorized that perhaps I was a late implanter, meaning for one reason or another, an egg takes a little longer to travel to the uterus to implant. If it took longer than 11 or 12 days, it was possible that my uterine lining was already beginning to shed before a fertilized egg could implant there. By having me take supplements, my progesterone level stayed up, and I didn't start my period. If I tested negative for pregnancy, I was to stop taking the progesterone supplements and my period would start 2 or 3 days later.
Two months later, we switched to Femara. I responded well, ovulating earlier than even on Clomid. My normal ovulation was sometime between day 18 and day 22. This isn't necessarily indicative of a problem. Most woman ovulate anywhere between CD 11 and 21. Fertility drugs made me ovulate sooner in my cycle. Later ovulation can sometimes point to poor egg quality, but not always.
After our first round of Femara, when I found out I wasn't pregnant, I went in for my usual ultrasound. While I was there, I expressed my frustration to one of the nurses. She was very nice and suggested we do a more monitored cycle and try a trigger shot, which would better time the moment of ovulation and make it stronger.
That month, we conceived. Did lengthening my leutal phase help me get pregnant? Did ovulating sooner in my cycle help me conceive? Was it just chance? We can't be sure. Since we didn't know what, if anything, was behind me inability to get pregnant, we will probably never know, unless a problem arises. It's possible we could go on and have more children easily. But we could also experience the same problems.
The point to this post is this: Fertility issues like PCOS, endometriosis, and low ovarian reserve are fairly well known and if the correct tests are done or if symptoms are noted, the are usually quickly identified and treated. Less obvious issues (whether there is a known medical reason or not) can also lead to years of infertility. Maybe a lot of woman labelled with unexplained infertility have a medical issue that just can't be identified yet. Science has come a long way, but we are constantly hearing of new developments, tests, and treatments, perhaps someday there won't be so many people with this label. I certainly hope so. And I applaud doctors, like my own, that try to treat the problem, even if they can't really identify it. I don't think I'd have my second son if not for them.
Secondary Infertility
In addition to my label of unexplained infertility, I had the bonus label of secondary infertility. This means I had already had the successful
pregnancy and delivery of a living child, but was now experiencing a
loss in fertility. When I first began to explore the online community of infertility, I wondered if I'd be accepted. After all, not only were they unable to find a reason why I wasn't getting pregnant, I already had a child.
My first was conceived 8 months after I stopped taking birth control pills. Studies show that around 85% of couples will conceive within the first 12 months of trying (source BabyCentre). Age, overall health, weight, and many other factors contribute to a person's chances of getting pregnant, infertility issues aside. Since we'd become pregnant with our first son well within that "average" time, I wanted to believe that we'd get pregnant easily the second time. Maybe even sooner, since I wasn't on any hormonal birth control when we started trying.
However, I had approached it with my husband that we should start trying sooner, rather than later. It's funny, I'd forgotten about that when I wrote my introductory post. Looking back, I remember now that something in the back of my head doubted that it would be so easy. Perhaps it was the pessimist in me. Perhaps it was women's intuition. I don't know, but looking back, I'm glad we didn't wait.
So as I started reading blogs of women suffering from infertility, posting on a TTC site where many of the women had some form of infertility, and blogging about my own struggles, I wondered if I would be looked at differently. I wondered if having a child meant that I wasn't a true "infertile". Isn't that strange? Being an infertile wasn't something I "wanted", but I guess it was more of needing that acceptance, of knowing that my struggled mattered, even though I was lucky enough to have a child already.
I certainly don't compare my experience with infertility to others. It's not a competition. To me, if you want to have a child (assuming of course that it's for the right reasons and you have means to support them etc etc) you should be able to have one. Certainly, I think that the childless woman struggling with infertility has a very different perspective and has experienced a very different pain that I have. The woman with multiple losses, the woman devastated by a stillbirth, the woman who has tried for years with NO pregnancy at all, they have certainly suffered more than I. When I received the heartbreaking news that I had lost my pregnancy in the summer of 2011, the first thing I wanted to do was hug my son. I was thankful that he was there with me, it was such a comfort for me to be able to look at him and feel his little arms around my neck. I recognize that not all woman experiencing a loss have that luxury. And not all losses happen early, like mine did. There is certainly a whole range of pain and severity when it comes to infertility. I just wanted to know that my frustration and my pain mattered. I just wanted to know that I would be accepted.
Accepted to a club that none of us want to be a member of.
I was, I AM accepted. We all are. There are no rules, no standards. You don't have to meet any criteria. No children--multiple children--medical infertility--unexplained infertility--no losses--multiple losses. We all belong.
My first was conceived 8 months after I stopped taking birth control pills. Studies show that around 85% of couples will conceive within the first 12 months of trying (source BabyCentre). Age, overall health, weight, and many other factors contribute to a person's chances of getting pregnant, infertility issues aside. Since we'd become pregnant with our first son well within that "average" time, I wanted to believe that we'd get pregnant easily the second time. Maybe even sooner, since I wasn't on any hormonal birth control when we started trying.
However, I had approached it with my husband that we should start trying sooner, rather than later. It's funny, I'd forgotten about that when I wrote my introductory post. Looking back, I remember now that something in the back of my head doubted that it would be so easy. Perhaps it was the pessimist in me. Perhaps it was women's intuition. I don't know, but looking back, I'm glad we didn't wait.
So as I started reading blogs of women suffering from infertility, posting on a TTC site where many of the women had some form of infertility, and blogging about my own struggles, I wondered if I would be looked at differently. I wondered if having a child meant that I wasn't a true "infertile". Isn't that strange? Being an infertile wasn't something I "wanted", but I guess it was more of needing that acceptance, of knowing that my struggled mattered, even though I was lucky enough to have a child already.
I certainly don't compare my experience with infertility to others. It's not a competition. To me, if you want to have a child (assuming of course that it's for the right reasons and you have means to support them etc etc) you should be able to have one. Certainly, I think that the childless woman struggling with infertility has a very different perspective and has experienced a very different pain that I have. The woman with multiple losses, the woman devastated by a stillbirth, the woman who has tried for years with NO pregnancy at all, they have certainly suffered more than I. When I received the heartbreaking news that I had lost my pregnancy in the summer of 2011, the first thing I wanted to do was hug my son. I was thankful that he was there with me, it was such a comfort for me to be able to look at him and feel his little arms around my neck. I recognize that not all woman experiencing a loss have that luxury. And not all losses happen early, like mine did. There is certainly a whole range of pain and severity when it comes to infertility. I just wanted to know that my frustration and my pain mattered. I just wanted to know that I would be accepted.
Accepted to a club that none of us want to be a member of.
I was, I AM accepted. We all are. There are no rules, no standards. You don't have to meet any criteria. No children--multiple children--medical infertility--unexplained infertility--no losses--multiple losses. We all belong.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Welcome to Ask An Infertile!
Welcome to Ask An Infertile! I'm Melissa, and I created this blog because in my opinion there can never be enough resources and outlets on the subject of infertility, TTC, and pregnancy loss. I am hoping that this blog will because a place to get information about all forms of infertility. So many woman have questions, and what do we do in the 21st Century when we have questions? We Google it, of course! I know I do. So again, why this blog? Well, to answer that, I think I'd better start off by telling you a little more about me.
Today, I'm a 31 year old working mom to two incredible little boys, living in Indiana with my wonderful husband of 9 years and the worlds greatest grandma, my mom. In 2010, when my first son, Tyler, was 18 months old, my husband and I decided we were going to try for our second child, since we wanted our children to be fairly close in age. When we had started TTC Tyler, we became pregnant about 8 months after I stopped taking birth control pills, so while I didn't expect us to succeed immediately, I didn't think it would take a terribly long time. Six months or so, that was my guess, factoring in that fact that I hadn't been using any hormonal birth control since we'd had Tyler.
At the suggestion of my doctor, I started tracking my cycles carefully. I kept notes on my calendar and purchased a fancy little app on my smartphone. At that time, my cycles were a little irregular, though not alarmingly so. Sometimes it was 28 days long, but it could go as long as 37 days. One thing that became clear pretty quickly was that I wasn't sure when I ovulated. Over the next few months I tried various methods of predicting ovulation. I charted my BBT (basal body temperature). I checked my cervical position (I was terrible at that). I monitored my cervical mucus (ew). I eventually turned to using OPKs (ovulation predictor kits). For awhile, even these stumped me! The first brand I tried would turn positive and then stay that way for 5 or 6 days!
When I had been trying for about 7 months, I turned to the internet for advice and support. I found an online forum and I was suddenly thrust into the world of infertility and TTC on the internet. I was amazed that not only did others feel like I did, but A LOT of others did! I started making some incredible friends and following their stories. Suddenly TMI didn't exist! We talked about our bodily fluids, we talked about BDing with our SOs and DHs (that's baby dancing with our significant others and darling husbands). We took pictures of our peesticks and scrutinized them together, fiddling around in photo editors to try to see if that might be a line? We shared the disappointment of another BFN (big fat negative), gave each other advice, and on good days, shared in the excitement of a friends BFP (big fat positive). We offered sympathy and encouragement. Suddenly I wasn't alone in this strong desire to have a child. And that felt nice.
As nice as it was to have support, I was still getting frustrated. In April 2011, I visited my primary care "doctor", A, who is actually a Physician's Assistant. I'd been seeing her for many years and just absolutely ADORED her. She was her usual awesome self, listening to my frustration, letting me let those few tears fall. She even shared with me a little of her own struggle for children. She sent me on my way, asking me to try one more month of charting my BBT (I'd given up on it a few months prior), and telling me to come back for a referral to a specialist if I wasn't pregnant in May.
Just my luck, during that crucial week in May I was sick as a dog with a fever. Dutiful little patient that I was, I trudged into June, knowing I needed real data to bring back with me. On June 17th, I posted a picture of my negative pregnancy test, saying I just wanted to get my period over with and go back to see my doctor. Then a member of the forum said she thought she could see a faint line. Then another agreed. And another.
I should interrupt myself here with a note--I have TERRIBLE eyesight. I've worn glasses since I was a toddler.
Anyway, I hadn't seen anything on the test, but that really didn't mean much. A few girls edited my photo and yes, maybe that was the start of a line? Only time would tell.
The next morning, I dutifully POAS (peed on a stick). And there was a faint, but visible second pink line. It was the day before Father's Day, May 18th, 2011. It had taken just over a year, but I was pregnant!
But then, so soon after that exciting moment, I wasn't anymore. I spotted a little bit on Sunday, but my HPT was darker, which comforted me. Then I spotted a little more on Monday. On Tuesday, four days after my first true positive HPT, I took another test and the second line was barely detectable. I went to the doctor and had a blood test, then went home, put my feet up, and fought from assuming the worst.
Unfortunately, the next morning my worst fear was realized. My hcg level was already down to the point where they considered the result to be negative. The nurse actually told me I'd never been pregnant at all. I was completely devastated. I sat down and cried. I drove to work, crying. I worked, alternating between tearing up every time anyone said hi to me, to trying my damnedest to think of ANYTHING else. I ended up telling more people that I'd miscarried than had known I was pregnant in the first place. I felt totally cheated. And more than that, I felt an incredible amount of depression at the though that I'd gotten so close and now I had to start over.
Logically, I knew that this pregnancy had ended so early, there wasn't truly much more than a fertilized egg, some divided cells. But in my heart, that was the potential baby I wanted so much. That was another Tyler. Maybe a brother. Maybe a girl this time, a little sister. But that was ripped away, almost before I could even celebrate it.
I mourned my loss. I went back to see A, even armed with pictures of my positive tests. She assured me that, of course I was actually pregnant, but that the egg probably implanted later than usual and so my HCG level never got terribly high before it began to drop. She said that these kind of miscarriages are called "chemical pregnancies" and they are actually pretty common. An egg with chromosomal problems, or one that doesn't implant correctly will simply be expelled by the body, which senses that something isn't right. She said that often women don't even know they were pregnant with these. But she also recognized that to me, to any woman trying to have a baby, it was a loss, and it was okay, natural even, to be sad about it.
She gave me a referral to a specialist, a reproductive endocrinologist (RE). As a matter of fact, the same RE that had helped her get pregnant with her little girl. I called him and made an appointment for the next month.
The cycle after my miscarriage was painfully slow and, well, painful. I had heavy bleeding and terribly cramps, but it only last about 6-7 days. I was still using OPKs and instead of a positive result somewhere between CD 18 and CD 22, it was CD 28 before I got a positive result. I had heard that a miscarriage, even an early one, can mess up a woman's cycle. Yay.
On July 20th, my husband and I went to see my RE, Dr. B. I liked him immediately. He was very understanding and listened carefully, asking thoughtful questions. He said based on my history, I probably just needed a little "boost" to get pregnant again. And I learned that since I had one child, I was experiencing what is called "Secondary Infertility" meaning I hadn't had trouble conceiving my first child. I would later learn that my infertility is also considered "Unexplained Infertility" since a cause for me not conceiving easily was never discovered exactly, although there were a few minor things that I think contributed to it (shorter than average leutal phase, indications of late implantation, low progesterone). He also told me that although there would be times that I would be disappointed, to try not to be discouraged, because together we'd get through it.
First order of business when seeing an RE is a whole mess of tests. My husband submitted to a sperm analysis, which came back fine. I had a glucose tolerance test, and ultrasound, and several blood tests. Everything came back normal, so Dr. B prescribed me a pill called Clomid. Clomid is a fertility drug that can cause ovulation in someone who isn't ovulating regularly or can encourage a healthier ovulation in someone like me, who is ovulating, but not at the best time of the cycle (Later ovulation can cause the quality of the egg to be lower). During that time, I was also put on progesterone supplements during my leutal phase, since it was on the shorter side and my RE thought I might be getting my period before an egg had the chance to implant. I eventually did four cycles on Clomid. While I ovulated on day 15 or 16 each month, we did not get pregnant. Eventually, I had a test called a Hysterosalpingogram or an HSG. This is an X-ray test where dye is injected into the uterus so that they can see if there are any abnormalities in the uterus or fallopian tubes. My result was normal, aside from my left fallopian tube not filling. My RE attributed that to the cramping I experienced during the test.
During our final cycle of Clomid, we met with Dr. B again to discuss our options. We could try another pill, called Femara (Letrizole), which is similar to Clomid, but some people respond better to. Or we could switch to injection hormones, which are more effective, but carry a higher chance of multiples and, usually, a higher price tag. After checking with my insurance (which covers some fertility treatments and test, but not all), we decided we would start with Femara and save up money to try injections in a few months.
Month one of Femara passed with Christmas 2011 and a BFN. In January, we decided to do a more monitored cycle. Basically that meant that I would return to Dr. B's office for a second ultrasound (I had one every month around CD 3 to check for cysts and things) a few days before I expected to ovulate. At this appointment, they would check the lining of my uterus to make sure it looked thick and healthy, but not too thick and they would check my ovaries for follicles. They would also have me inject a medication to trigger a stronger ovulation, called an HCG trigger shot. This basically mimics the surge of LH (ovulation hormone) in the body, causing all mature follicles to release their eggs. On CD 13 my ultrasound showed good lining and two follicles that showed promise. The next evening, I injected $85 worth of medication into my muffin top (LOL) and hoped for the best. Oh, and a fun side effect of this shot? Since it contains the pregnancy hormone, you get a positive result on an HPT! I just had to try that out! I watched the lines fade, but I wasn't sure they had totally vanished. Finally, with doctor's orders to test 14 days after my injection, I was excited and terrified to see two pink lines! I rushed to the doctor for a blood test and was told that my HCG was 12.7. And I was told that was "probably pregnant". Luckily, I was able to return with confidence two days later for another test, encouraged by darkening lines on HPTs.
So that's my story. It took 19 months, an early miscarriage, four rounds of clomid, an HCG two rounds of femara, a trigger shot, many progesterone pills, countless ultrasounds and a lot of home pregnancy tests on OPKs, but I was pregnant. I was truly blessed to give birth to my second son, AJ, in October 2012.
So. Yes that was a pretty long story. Anyway, if you're still with me (please stay with me!), that brings us back to the present. My sons are 4 1/2 and 10 months, but I still reflect on my journey and how it changed me. I was "lucky", really. I've read so many blogs, heard so many stories that was much more arduous than my own. So many people are still struggling, have experienced grief and pain so far beyond what I had felt. And even as time passes, I still feel very drawn to this community.
During my personal struggle, I wrote on my personal blogger blog, but I also contributed to a blog on a popular website called Countdown to Pregnancy. I told my story, the same story as is written above, but with more detail. And when I finally became pregnant, I stepped away. But every once in awhile, I still get a notification that I have a new comment. I got one today. It was from a girl looking for advice. I responded and then I started thinking. I LIKED this. I was kind of GOOD at this. I may not have had the most harrowing story to share, but it was one that was related to and I really enjoyed sharing what I knew.
And so, Ask an Infertile was born. So to speak.
I don't pretend that this is a new idea. But as I stated way up there at the top of this very long post, there really can't be ENOUGH resources out there. So here we go.
Today, I'm a 31 year old working mom to two incredible little boys, living in Indiana with my wonderful husband of 9 years and the worlds greatest grandma, my mom. In 2010, when my first son, Tyler, was 18 months old, my husband and I decided we were going to try for our second child, since we wanted our children to be fairly close in age. When we had started TTC Tyler, we became pregnant about 8 months after I stopped taking birth control pills, so while I didn't expect us to succeed immediately, I didn't think it would take a terribly long time. Six months or so, that was my guess, factoring in that fact that I hadn't been using any hormonal birth control since we'd had Tyler.
At the suggestion of my doctor, I started tracking my cycles carefully. I kept notes on my calendar and purchased a fancy little app on my smartphone. At that time, my cycles were a little irregular, though not alarmingly so. Sometimes it was 28 days long, but it could go as long as 37 days. One thing that became clear pretty quickly was that I wasn't sure when I ovulated. Over the next few months I tried various methods of predicting ovulation. I charted my BBT (basal body temperature). I checked my cervical position (I was terrible at that). I monitored my cervical mucus (ew). I eventually turned to using OPKs (ovulation predictor kits). For awhile, even these stumped me! The first brand I tried would turn positive and then stay that way for 5 or 6 days!
When I had been trying for about 7 months, I turned to the internet for advice and support. I found an online forum and I was suddenly thrust into the world of infertility and TTC on the internet. I was amazed that not only did others feel like I did, but A LOT of others did! I started making some incredible friends and following their stories. Suddenly TMI didn't exist! We talked about our bodily fluids, we talked about BDing with our SOs and DHs (that's baby dancing with our significant others and darling husbands). We took pictures of our peesticks and scrutinized them together, fiddling around in photo editors to try to see if that might be a line? We shared the disappointment of another BFN (big fat negative), gave each other advice, and on good days, shared in the excitement of a friends BFP (big fat positive). We offered sympathy and encouragement. Suddenly I wasn't alone in this strong desire to have a child. And that felt nice.
As nice as it was to have support, I was still getting frustrated. In April 2011, I visited my primary care "doctor", A, who is actually a Physician's Assistant. I'd been seeing her for many years and just absolutely ADORED her. She was her usual awesome self, listening to my frustration, letting me let those few tears fall. She even shared with me a little of her own struggle for children. She sent me on my way, asking me to try one more month of charting my BBT (I'd given up on it a few months prior), and telling me to come back for a referral to a specialist if I wasn't pregnant in May.
Just my luck, during that crucial week in May I was sick as a dog with a fever. Dutiful little patient that I was, I trudged into June, knowing I needed real data to bring back with me. On June 17th, I posted a picture of my negative pregnancy test, saying I just wanted to get my period over with and go back to see my doctor. Then a member of the forum said she thought she could see a faint line. Then another agreed. And another.
I should interrupt myself here with a note--I have TERRIBLE eyesight. I've worn glasses since I was a toddler.
Anyway, I hadn't seen anything on the test, but that really didn't mean much. A few girls edited my photo and yes, maybe that was the start of a line? Only time would tell.
The next morning, I dutifully POAS (peed on a stick). And there was a faint, but visible second pink line. It was the day before Father's Day, May 18th, 2011. It had taken just over a year, but I was pregnant!
But then, so soon after that exciting moment, I wasn't anymore. I spotted a little bit on Sunday, but my HPT was darker, which comforted me. Then I spotted a little more on Monday. On Tuesday, four days after my first true positive HPT, I took another test and the second line was barely detectable. I went to the doctor and had a blood test, then went home, put my feet up, and fought from assuming the worst.
Unfortunately, the next morning my worst fear was realized. My hcg level was already down to the point where they considered the result to be negative. The nurse actually told me I'd never been pregnant at all. I was completely devastated. I sat down and cried. I drove to work, crying. I worked, alternating between tearing up every time anyone said hi to me, to trying my damnedest to think of ANYTHING else. I ended up telling more people that I'd miscarried than had known I was pregnant in the first place. I felt totally cheated. And more than that, I felt an incredible amount of depression at the though that I'd gotten so close and now I had to start over.
Logically, I knew that this pregnancy had ended so early, there wasn't truly much more than a fertilized egg, some divided cells. But in my heart, that was the potential baby I wanted so much. That was another Tyler. Maybe a brother. Maybe a girl this time, a little sister. But that was ripped away, almost before I could even celebrate it.
I mourned my loss. I went back to see A, even armed with pictures of my positive tests. She assured me that, of course I was actually pregnant, but that the egg probably implanted later than usual and so my HCG level never got terribly high before it began to drop. She said that these kind of miscarriages are called "chemical pregnancies" and they are actually pretty common. An egg with chromosomal problems, or one that doesn't implant correctly will simply be expelled by the body, which senses that something isn't right. She said that often women don't even know they were pregnant with these. But she also recognized that to me, to any woman trying to have a baby, it was a loss, and it was okay, natural even, to be sad about it.
She gave me a referral to a specialist, a reproductive endocrinologist (RE). As a matter of fact, the same RE that had helped her get pregnant with her little girl. I called him and made an appointment for the next month.
The cycle after my miscarriage was painfully slow and, well, painful. I had heavy bleeding and terribly cramps, but it only last about 6-7 days. I was still using OPKs and instead of a positive result somewhere between CD 18 and CD 22, it was CD 28 before I got a positive result. I had heard that a miscarriage, even an early one, can mess up a woman's cycle. Yay.
On July 20th, my husband and I went to see my RE, Dr. B. I liked him immediately. He was very understanding and listened carefully, asking thoughtful questions. He said based on my history, I probably just needed a little "boost" to get pregnant again. And I learned that since I had one child, I was experiencing what is called "Secondary Infertility" meaning I hadn't had trouble conceiving my first child. I would later learn that my infertility is also considered "Unexplained Infertility" since a cause for me not conceiving easily was never discovered exactly, although there were a few minor things that I think contributed to it (shorter than average leutal phase, indications of late implantation, low progesterone). He also told me that although there would be times that I would be disappointed, to try not to be discouraged, because together we'd get through it.
First order of business when seeing an RE is a whole mess of tests. My husband submitted to a sperm analysis, which came back fine. I had a glucose tolerance test, and ultrasound, and several blood tests. Everything came back normal, so Dr. B prescribed me a pill called Clomid. Clomid is a fertility drug that can cause ovulation in someone who isn't ovulating regularly or can encourage a healthier ovulation in someone like me, who is ovulating, but not at the best time of the cycle (Later ovulation can cause the quality of the egg to be lower). During that time, I was also put on progesterone supplements during my leutal phase, since it was on the shorter side and my RE thought I might be getting my period before an egg had the chance to implant. I eventually did four cycles on Clomid. While I ovulated on day 15 or 16 each month, we did not get pregnant. Eventually, I had a test called a Hysterosalpingogram or an HSG. This is an X-ray test where dye is injected into the uterus so that they can see if there are any abnormalities in the uterus or fallopian tubes. My result was normal, aside from my left fallopian tube not filling. My RE attributed that to the cramping I experienced during the test.
During our final cycle of Clomid, we met with Dr. B again to discuss our options. We could try another pill, called Femara (Letrizole), which is similar to Clomid, but some people respond better to. Or we could switch to injection hormones, which are more effective, but carry a higher chance of multiples and, usually, a higher price tag. After checking with my insurance (which covers some fertility treatments and test, but not all), we decided we would start with Femara and save up money to try injections in a few months.
Month one of Femara passed with Christmas 2011 and a BFN. In January, we decided to do a more monitored cycle. Basically that meant that I would return to Dr. B's office for a second ultrasound (I had one every month around CD 3 to check for cysts and things) a few days before I expected to ovulate. At this appointment, they would check the lining of my uterus to make sure it looked thick and healthy, but not too thick and they would check my ovaries for follicles. They would also have me inject a medication to trigger a stronger ovulation, called an HCG trigger shot. This basically mimics the surge of LH (ovulation hormone) in the body, causing all mature follicles to release their eggs. On CD 13 my ultrasound showed good lining and two follicles that showed promise. The next evening, I injected $85 worth of medication into my muffin top (LOL) and hoped for the best. Oh, and a fun side effect of this shot? Since it contains the pregnancy hormone, you get a positive result on an HPT! I just had to try that out! I watched the lines fade, but I wasn't sure they had totally vanished. Finally, with doctor's orders to test 14 days after my injection, I was excited and terrified to see two pink lines! I rushed to the doctor for a blood test and was told that my HCG was 12.7. And I was told that was "probably pregnant". Luckily, I was able to return with confidence two days later for another test, encouraged by darkening lines on HPTs.
So that's my story. It took 19 months, an early miscarriage, four rounds of clomid, an HCG two rounds of femara, a trigger shot, many progesterone pills, countless ultrasounds and a lot of home pregnancy tests on OPKs, but I was pregnant. I was truly blessed to give birth to my second son, AJ, in October 2012.
So. Yes that was a pretty long story. Anyway, if you're still with me (please stay with me!), that brings us back to the present. My sons are 4 1/2 and 10 months, but I still reflect on my journey and how it changed me. I was "lucky", really. I've read so many blogs, heard so many stories that was much more arduous than my own. So many people are still struggling, have experienced grief and pain so far beyond what I had felt. And even as time passes, I still feel very drawn to this community.
During my personal struggle, I wrote on my personal blogger blog, but I also contributed to a blog on a popular website called Countdown to Pregnancy. I told my story, the same story as is written above, but with more detail. And when I finally became pregnant, I stepped away. But every once in awhile, I still get a notification that I have a new comment. I got one today. It was from a girl looking for advice. I responded and then I started thinking. I LIKED this. I was kind of GOOD at this. I may not have had the most harrowing story to share, but it was one that was related to and I really enjoyed sharing what I knew.
And so, Ask an Infertile was born. So to speak.
I don't pretend that this is a new idea. But as I stated way up there at the top of this very long post, there really can't be ENOUGH resources out there. So here we go.
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