Category Archives: TTC AFTER LOSS

Full Disclosure

I have been debating on updating or just letting Familyoftwo fade away.

The truth of the matter is the blog has come full circle.  I came to word press as a way to grieve Aaron, and grieve I did.  Yet a new adventure is about to unfold and it isn’t right to share it here.  This blog, and my life changed after loosing him.  Life was no longer obsessively concerned with conceiving.  Even when we tried it wasn’t shared here.  You guys weren’t privy to the shots, or the let down when once again AF started up at 10 days post ovulation despite having an E2 of over 1500.  Life went on and so did I.  We talked about Cricut projects, and my unstable mother in law (whom incidentally we haven’t seen in six weeks), or my psycho mother-who recently apologized for being a bad parent.  Life is eventful, but not in teh way we all come to expect but that is about to change.

Earlier this month I consulted with the last RE in the area.  The RE who is affiliated with my place of employment,the RE whom two different gynecologists highly recommended, the RE whom I recommended to an “invisible” friend who now has gone through 3 miscarriages, and has one child thanks to his help while I sit here with none.  During my consult all of my preconceived fears came true.  I was met not by him, but by another doctor who took my history, and only met with him for all of 15 minutes while he reviewed my history, ordered some tests, and demanded that Dr. T’s office send my history from their office.  The next day I walked back in on cycle day 3 and was probed by “an angry ultrasound tech”  after being poked in the vein so that they could aquire my blood.

Ten days later I walked back in and had an emotional break down that caused the RE to question my sanity I am sure.  After he preformed my first ever saline ultrasound he asked me the question of the hour, “how are YOU handling all of this?”  Not, lets jump right into IVF because that is what I am trained to say but rather he wanted to know how I was feeling.  I waked out and called the social worker he recommended and cried my way home.  That night I talked to Jacob and told him I was not scared to try again, but scared of becoming pregnant again and I wasn’t sure if I could proceed as planned.  The next day, I walked back into the same hospital with a sense of calm yet with no real direction.  Even so I underwent my fourth HSG in 8 years.  Before we began however the doctor sat and held my hand as I told him about Jacob’s and my conversation.  He told me that I was wise, and that we would go slow, but it feels like we are moving full speed ahead.  And yes, most of my fears about the baby corral have been quelled.

Bottom line:

FSH 7.6, I have the ovaries of a 30 year old.  Prolactin 15.9 (down from 30.6).  I am HIV, and STD negative.  I am Rubella positive which means I do not have to worry about the German Measles should I become pergnant or not pregnant.   My ultrasound showed 30 antral follicles on CD 3, which is high for a “normal” woman but to be expected for a woman with PCOS, which is why we over stimulate on even the lowest of Follistim doses.   The HSG shows patency and a clear path.  My Saline Ultrasound however showed a problem.  On the left posterier wall I have a growth and a gross thickening of my uterus below it.  If you remember my GYN said that my uterus “felt enlarged” when she saw me in September.  Speculation is that while the polyp was noted during my hysteroscopy in February of last year, it was not removed and could have been the cause of my miscarriage though that can’t be confirmed.  Ironically, had Dr. T been willing to do a D&C in May this would have been a mute issue, and my chemical pregnancy in August may have been a “real” pregnancy as well but we shall never know.

At any rate, I have to have another surgery.  This time its a polypectomy, a D&C, and a hysteroscopy.  The remenents will be sent out for pathology to test, but we do not forsee any issues.  However he did say that women with PCOS have a higher risk of problems from these growths than a woman without.

We come full circle now.  My surgery was orignally offered for February 12th, but that gave me too great a risk of having a March 10th cycle, and thus if I do become pregnant another December 15th due date.  The plan after the surgery providing that the pathology is A-Ok is to try again.  The RE feels that given the labs, and the patentcy equals a good chance of pregnancy on my own (with help from injections), but I want to wait until afterwards until we decide…even so…I need to step away from the key board in this particular venue.  I do have an all infertility all the time blog…but to keep both is dishonest.

Thanks to everyone who was with me through two RE’s, a failed pregnancy, my mother in laws antics, and my many many many cycles of PMS and rage.  I will keep up with everyones blogs, and will comment, so your not rid of me.  I just feel that this blog has come full circle.

9 Months…

I happened to glance at Aaron’s ticker on my Mys pace page the other day.  It had been exactly 9 months since we said good bye.  9 month, to the day.  He has now been gone for the exact amount of time that I should have held him under my heart. 

9 months in the span of a lifetime is nothing.  Yet 9 months to create a life seems like forever. 

So much has changed in 9 months.  I almost lost Aaron’s daddy.  If I had lost him, I would have lost him in the same month in which we lost our final baby. My heart still pounds when I think about that month.  I can still relive each of those days and nights as if they were yesterday.  Only this time its as if I am watching some one else play the parts of my life that were so terror filled.  As the images flicker on the movie screen of my memory the pain isn’t nearly as severe.  The images not quite so opaque.

Time heals all wounds, and in this case its true…and all it took was a little over 9 months to realize that I was already there.

Wrapping It Up…

wrapping1Tonight I began the task of wrapping the gifts that have been purchased over the last two days.  Among them are a new Barbie in a Pink Bug for Sara, a Fisher Price town for Timothy, and a Hot Wheels Play set for Tyler.  Each wrapped under white paper with colorful Christmas candies printed on it.

As I wrapped I thought of the gifts still left to buy.  Jacob and I had agreed that Christmas wasn’t going to be that special this year so we would skip it.  My sister commented how this year will be the hardest.  I said that the 15th of December, like October the 1st, and even April 8th will always be hard.  Its simply unfortunate that Christmas falls in December.  Despite all of this I felt the need to participate in the obligatory gift exchanges amongst the family, and among Jacob and myself.  So far he is the proud owner to be of some Joe Boxer lounge pants and not much more.  Certainly we are not off to an auspicious beginning by any stretch.

It was not however the contents of the paper that gave me pause, but rather the gift tags.  As I penned the name of each recipient underneath I wrote the words Aunt Susan, and Uncle Jacob repetitively.  I wondered silently will I ever be able to write the name of a child and under it put Love Mommy and Daddy on the from line.  Will it ever be our child who jumps into our bed on Christmas Day and tells us that Santa had come the night before?  Will it ever be our child who opens up a new Barbie and shrieks because it was the one they have “always” wanted?  Will it ever be our child who asks his daddy to take him outside in the snow so that he can ride his new sled?  Will it ever be us who stand in line on Black Friday at 4 a.m. because the only gift our child wants is the one that every other child on the continent wants as well?  Or will we forever simply be Aunt Susan and Uncle Jacob?

I know, there is still much to do before the day and I shouldn’t over think it, but I can’t help but do just that…The cycle I haven’t been talking about will be over well before Christmas arrives, though I have decided not to even contemplate testing until Christmas Eve if there is a need.  I wonder will I be wrapping up the stick that says we are 6 weeks pregnant that night and handing to Jacob the next day?  Or instead will we be trudging on that same night to my parents house to watch the little ones open their gifts with hardened hearts?  Or should I look upon that holiday as I have each other day since May 1st…as being one day closer to wrapping up the year that was hell?

Hooked On A Feeling…

I have been flipping back and forth about how much infertility talk I wanted to continue on the blog.  Well not so much infertility, but when I start cycling how much I want to share.  So I feel a bit hypocritical sharing moments like this when odds are that I am not going to share my cycle with you.  Though I have read some other suggestions on other blogs that say to write it since it is cathartic, but to either keep the posts private and then post date them for later publishing or to simply not write about it at all.  I think that writing about it but post dating the entry’s  is a bit more honest, but not by much.

Anyway, I have a such a good feeling about our next cycle.  While I am not totally over my miscarriage I am better.  I shouldn’t even say its the miscarriage that I am not over.  I am over that, it happend its time to move on.  What I am not over is the bitter feelings that sometimes accompany my not being pregnant yet.  Though better for just the other day there had to have been 4 medical files with the name Aaron written all over them.  Instead of tearing up or feeling that gnaw in the pit of my stomach I thought “Well maybe Aaron wasn’t such a ‘unique’ name after all”  Not unique as if I named my child Bridgetdietpepsigreenhighlighter unique, but unique in that there wouldn’t be 4 or 5 kids in his elementary class with his name.

Another feeling, the feeling that I am hooked on is excitement.  I am SO excited about trying to conceive again.  I want to say that NO I don’t have any preconceived notions (no pun intended) about becoming pregnant but I have this overwhelming feeling that I am going to BE pregnant shortly.  I remember feeling like this when I became pregnant in March I knew I was going to get pregnant, but at the same time I felt like that wasn’t my cycle either.  I ordered my meds LONG before my pregnancy test turned positive.  I am quite the enigma I know.

I am not even close to cycling just yet.  I am still two weeks away from AF starting, and a lot can happen between now and a pelvic ultrasound…but I just can’t seem to shake this feeling and I really don’t know if I want too!

Incidentally this happy feeling marks my 150th post since I moved to WordPress.  The first was devestating but my 150th has me wanting to dance a jig.

Moving Is The New Fertility Drug!

I have decided that I can never leave my husband at home unattended with a phone near by.  See, our paper delivery person flaked on us, and failed to delivery our Sunday paper.  Depite repeated attempts to contact the Gazette and request a replacement we were still paperless as of the early afternoon.  Jonesing for the paper I threw on my Crocs and headed to Kuhns.  I grabbed the coveted tree by product and headed back home with plans to lounge on the couch and suck up as much black ink as my fingers could absorb before heading over to the full colored glossy inserts that I love.

Once I returned home I kicked off my shoes and planned my escape.   I opened the paper and started to read something regarding the economy, or the election I am sure when I hear “We are going to my mothers for dinner”  I looked at his grinning face over the now folded paper.  “Excuse me?  How did this happen?”  Still grinning “Well I called to see if we could come over for dinner tonight.  Mom’s going to give us left over enchaladas”  First, I hate left overs.  Second I hate enchaladas.  Third didn’t we suffer enough at the hands of my mother yesterday?  At first I told him I was staying at home, I was going to order pay per view movies but at the last minute I decided to go along.  Once again I threw on my Crocs and slinked off towards the car.  “We’ll only stay for an hour right?”  I implored…

After dinner, which was not enchaladas but spaghetti and with time approaching the 2 hour mark since our arrival  we were once again discussing the move.  Mom decided she would take our stove, which pleased Jacob.  He is more attatched to this appliance than our marriage I think.  After all “it was the first appliance we ever bought”  As we were talking about the apartment I said something about Jacob’s office being in the second bedroom.  “What does he need an office for?” Mom asks.  “Well he has always had an office no matter where we have lived, and this will be no different.  The second bedroom will be his office”  To which my darling mother in law replies “He better get over it because once you move I just know you are going to get pregnant again and my grand child is going to need his own space” 

I love that she is the complete opposite of my mother.  She may be annoying and over interested during my cycles, but at least she isn’t like my mother who is embarressed by them.  I just hope that she isn’t grossly disappointed if a new floor plan doesn’t equal the new Follistim…

Cycle Day 16…

According to the directions on the bottle I should be starting my provera today.  For the next 10 days I am to add this little white pill to the collection that I take daily, but the amber colored container is to remain capped.  Despite Jacob’s current state of the unknown, and his request that we not talk about procreation matters until January we allowed a brief discussion to cross our lips.

See, since I am totally disorganized when it comes to blocks on the calender I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake up on a Saturday, Sunday or Monday and realize without help that its cycle day 16 so I utilized FF.  Every day I logged into the program and dutifully marked that I had taken my Metformin.  There was no checking of the cervix, no checking of mucus, and certainly no sucking on the cold end of a thermometer every morning when I rose for the day.  That did not mean how ever that I didn’t do a little speculative research.

As it turns out, in the cycles in which I have ovulated I haven’t done so until cycle day 21 or cycle day 23.  Long after i would have begun my provera.  Now I know I know I have professed my enjoyment of my break, and my resignation that I will be waiting until January to actively try to conceive.  Don’t worry I haven’t become a turn coat.  That is still very much the active case.  We are not ACTIVELY pursuing a pregnancy HOWEVER at the same time we do not wish to jeapordize ANY chance regardless of how slim it may be at obtaining one IF possible. Thus if I were going to ovulate on my own at any time during the next three months and I started provera on CD 16 I run an increased risk of taking that chance away.

When I explained this to Jacob he agreed.  We do not want to risk a miscarriage even though Rebecca tells me there is no chance.  Further we don’t want to risk not ovulating if I can.  So we decided I would only take the provera on an as needed basis.  Typically it is very obvious if I do not ovulate.  Come those same days, cycle day 21 or 23 I begin to spot and bleed in the dysfunctional fashion.  If I do ovulate then a real AF comes about 12 days later giving me a 35 day cycle which isn’t a Greek tragedy to not have a 28 day cycle.  So that is the plan as it stands on cycle day 16.

Now between you and me, and God because believe me I have been praying “hear my prayer”  If I were to ovulate and would happen to become pregnant I woudln’t complain.  My only criteria is that this little one sticks around long enough for me to be able to get off that ride we talked about the other day smiling…and yes even then I know I will be hypocrite because just like all the other times I will join the ranks of Mommy talk, and will have left behind that of infertile Myrtle.

But again, we are only on cycle day 16 and have many more to go…

Not Quite The Ride I Had In Mind…

So we now know how Jacob is feeling, but how about me? Do I white knuckle it when I see the One Step Ahead Catalog? Do I hyperventilate when I go to Giant Eagle and need to pick up garbage bags only to realize the opposite space of the isle is full of baby paraphernalia? Am I still angry at God? If you haven’t noticed I hate writing about ME. I can write about any other subject, including myself so long as I am abstract rather than the center of attention. Ironic for a middle child who thrives on both positive and negative re-enforcement isn’t it?

So here it goes…a post all about me and my feelings.  Right?

As a youngster my dad and mom took we girls to Kennywood. Kennywood is our local amusement park that is home to four of the tamest roller coasters known to man. Yet at 10 the Thunder Bolt  was daring and dangerous (and yes those are the tallest hills)  and I wanted to go on.  I begged as a matter of fact.  I wanted nothing more than to be tall enough to ride, and rejoiced when I discovered that I was.  My mom didn’t ride but my dad did so he took me by the hand and we stood in line. As we stood amongst the hot and sweaty crowd I watched the cars do several circuits and heard the screams as they swooshed by at the end of a banked curve. Towards the front of the line I told my dad “I don’t want to do this any more, I dont’ want to ride.  I want to go ride something else” My dad having stood in line on a hot crowded day made his position equally clear “If we get out of line now we are going home” Of course I did not want to go home, so I got on the ride. Unbeknown to me when the ride started you were plunged down a hill into a ravine. I was petrified, I tucked my head under his arm and frantically repeated “Don’t let me die daddy, don’t let me die”  at the top of my lungs.  It was 6 years before I was brave enough to dare another coaster again.

Can you imagine? Being 16 and never experiencing the thrill of a roller coaster? Only it wasn’t a coaster as such that got me over my fear. It was the Demon Drop of all beasts. I was in Georgia spending a week with my aunt and adult cousins who insisted on taking me to Six Flags Over Georgia. Having never been to a park this large I had never seen much less heard of the Demon Drop but I willing to give it a try, until we got to the top, once again I wanted to get out of line and off of the ride. Only once  at the top the only way down is in the car. Knowing this I climbed in and was strapped down.  I clung to the over the shoulder harness for dear life and tightly squinted my eye lids together. I listened as the car clicked out over the nothingness below and waited for the drop, and waited, and waited.  Then it came, a rush of air and we were riding the rail to the bottom. All I can remember is not being able to exhale. I couldn’t scream, and I certainly couldn’t breathe. After that experience I realized that

1. I wasn’t dead and

2. I hadn’t fallen out. The safety bar protected me.

Well that is how I feel now. I started the journey with great anticipation for the unknown. Then I got on and was immediately plunged down a ravine before a chain pulled me up again. Somewhere in the middle I held on to my partner and screamed “Don’t let me die” Then I wait what seemed like 6 years before I tried again only to realize that not only was I alive, but that I kind of enjoyed the terrifying thrill when I got back on.

When we have tried for me to become pregnant I feel like I am standing in line. When we have lost those babies I am screaming “don’t let me die” Then after I wandering around the park watching those who can easily get on get off the ride laughing I become a little angry. Why can’t I get on the ride so easily? Why aren’t I laughing when I get off? Then all of a sudden someone takes me by the hand and says “come on lets ride this” and while I am petrified I realize that it didn’t kill me, and yes I want to go again.

That is where I am at. I will be honest I am jealous of those of you who are pregnant, but can’t wait to “meet” the new babies.  I have however come to the realization that just because I am in line doesn’t entitle me to a ride much less a successful one,  yet if I don’t stand there and wait my turn I will never know if the next time it will be me who gets off smiling. Yet I am past the point where I hyperventilate in the super market, or where I burst into tears when a catalog arrives that I ordered. In reality I am looking forward to getting back on the ride, and hoping that at the end that I get off and am smiling. Where as I think Jacob is like my dad “If we get out of line again we are going home…”

And yes…I know, even this was writing about me in the abstract…