It's Time

After our miscarriages I was in no condition, mentally or physically, to get poked and prodded again.  But, now it's time.  We've recently visited with two women that found the answers they needed to have closure, to understand why their babies didn't survive.  Those answers found them through clinics in Chicago.  I've always wanted to know, but just wasn't ready to take the steps.  I'm ready now.  So, over the next several months, we hope to get some answers.  Not to try to have another baby biologically, but for peace.  It's all part of the process for me, so that someday I can sit in the rocking chair and the nursing home and have peace.  (And hopefully lots of great grandchildren visiting me with boxes of chocolate in hand.)

Keynote Speaker

We had a break between our volunteer duties at the Resolve conference (see the last post), so we were able toe catch the keynote speaker.  I noticed that the speaker happened to be the volunteer coordinator for the event and thought that was great--I had been communicating with her about our volunteer shifts, she was down to earth and appreciative.

The first speaker welcomed everyone to the conference.  She talked about the benefits of the conference, what it meant to her, and clearly could relate to all of us.  She commented that the volunteers were all in lime green shirts, and that hopefully some of them would be in lime green shirts volunteering someday....the volunteers were the people that :resolved" their infertility journey and were giving back.  Interesting.  I guess in a way, we feel "resolved", not finished, but resolved.

The keynote speaker got up and told her story.  I had tears streaming down my face, so did many others in the room.  Jamie was choked up.  Probably because many parts of her story were OUR story.  The ultrasounds, the bad, bad ultrasounds of babies that are no longer living.  Hearing people tell you "It's probably for the best" when you can't even defend yourself because you are overcome with grief.  Finding out that the baby you miscarried is perfectly healthy.  Knowing that your body somehow failed your baby, even though you want nothing more than to carry your baby to full term.  Scared to try to get pregnant, scared to try not to.

She had three miscarriages.  All were very similar situations to ours.  She did IVF 6 times.  I can't even imagine.

She had the same blood work done that I did after my third miscarriage.  It came back with the same results.  Nothing wrong.  But like me, she KNEW something had to be wrong.  Why else would you not be able to carry multiple pregnancies to term?  She ended up working with a Reproductive Endocrinologist in Chicago.  One easy blood test showed that she had an elusive autoimmune disease.  It was challenging, but through IVF she carried two children to term.

Don't panic, people, we aren't rushing out to do IVF again!  But, someday I do want to talk with the RE that specializes in autoimmune disorders in Chicago.  It does bother me that I don't know why we've had the losses, but also important is that I think that something isn't right with my body and I think it's important to do what I can to make sure I stay as healthy as possible.  I owe it to Jamie, our little man and any future kiddos we are blessed with.  With her disorder, she needs to take an aspirin daily to help prevent blood clots, heart attacks and strokes.  So simple, but it could save her life.

After the session the conference attendees went to their breakout sessions.  I was helping to track how many  attendees were at each session, when I got done I found Jamie visiting with the keynote speaker.  It was so nice to visit with her one on one.  Very inspirational.

When I was listening to her speech, I thought that maybe one day I'd take the time to write out our whole story (of course without the grandiose ending that I'll have to add in later).

Just what I needed.

For some reason Monday was tough on me.  Maybe it was the long, busy weekend catching up with me? Whatever it was, I felt completely exhausted.  I was "off" all day, and completely frustrated by it.  After talking about my day with Jamie, and playing basketball with Griffin in the basement, my spirits were getting better...but were far from 100%, they were far from 50%!   I logged onto Facebook and saw a post from someone, one of those people that always has an entertaining or thought provoking post.  The words "said goodbye before they got to say hello" caught my eye.  That's me, so I read the attached link.  It was a beautiful, helpful, and true blog post titled Forget-Me-Nots.  It made me feel less alone and more understood.  I read it and cried, so much of what it said I've tried to explain, but sometimes couldn't find the right words.  It reminded me to give myself grace, not just through my process of "healing" from the disappointments and losses we've had trying to grow our family, but daily.  It was just what I needed on this tough Monday, a good cry, acknowledgement of how far I've come, and a reminder of the need to give myself grace.

Missing a Session

The other night I was on a conference call with the group that is helping to plan the Resolve Family Building Conference in the Twin Cities.  There were several people on the call that have helped plan the conference for many years, and two of us that were new this year.  It was a great call, full of terrific ideas for improvement. 
I piped up with a concern of mine, the conference was great last year, but I felt like a piece was missing.  There weren't any session on miscarriages or grief.  In my opinion there is a lot of grief that comes with infertility, whether you suffer from a miscarriage or not.  A comment was made that they had sessions in the past related to miscarriage, but only a few people went.
Sure, but what about those few people?
I know I went to the conference because we were lost....not sure what to do next....we wanted to grow our family so badly, but didn't know which way to turn......so we wanted to gather information on ways to GROW our family.  Even though I was experiencing great grief at the time, maybe I would have skipped the miscarriage session, too, to attend something on adoption or natural methods of improving fertility instead.
But to have nothing offered, that just seems wrong. 
I remember the woman in one of my sessions that had a loss at 24 weeks that very week.  I bet she would have loved to attend a session on grief and loss.
The other new gal agreed with me, so we started a discussion.  How could we offer something related to miscarriages and grief in our already packed day? 
Someone knows a great doctor who has experienced miscarriage firsthand and could be a great speaker or participate in "the doctor is in" sessions where attendees could meet with him one-on-one.
Then, a good idea come to mind (at least I think it's a good idea)!  Last year during lunch we sat in groups and talked about specific topics (IVF, adoption, etc.), why not offer a grief/loss/miscarriage session over lunch that's optional for those that want to attend!?
And, it went over well!
If the session helps just one person, it will be worth it.

Proofing our Home Study

So, after a nice dinner at my parent's house tonight, we came home and proofed our home study (our social worker sent it to us about two weeks ago and we finally found time to sit down together--it's been a busy two weeks!)  Initially it was fun to read, but it was loooooong.  I think maybe that has something to do with the fact that we talked A LOT during our home study meetings.  Is that a surprise?  Not a bit. 

Anyway, we read, made corrections, read, made corrections.  And, it got kinda old.  Maybe that's because we already knew the story!? 

Mid-way through I mentioned that I "needed" a snack.  Jamie thought wine sounded good.  So, we had wine and cheese.  OK, wine and Cheez-Its and cheese sticks.  I know, classy. 

I had to laugh at our extravagant date night. 

Here we are snacking, wining, reading and correcting....in the toy room of all places:

We got to the part that was really hard to read, even though I lived it and knew the moments in great detail, more detail than I ever want to remember. 

It started with saying we had 3 miscarriages.  I Xed out the 3 and wrote 4.  She forgot about our most recent loss.  I haven't forgotten.

Here's the story that followed:

"The couple's 3rd miscarriage was on January 10, 2011 after their second round of IVF.  Heather was 14 weeks into the pregnancy and she felt great.  They had two ultrasounds and heard the baby's heartbeat.  They were in love with their sweet baby from the very beginning.  Heather announced her pregnancy at work that morning (some friends came over the night before to help make pink and blue cookies--everyone at work announces their pregnancies with pink and blue treats.)  After lunch she noticed a small amount of spotting and by 2:30 p.m. was in the ultrasound room and it as confirmed that their baby no longer had a heartbeat.  Heather was so scared waiting to find out and yelled "NO!" and felt Jamie lay his head on her.  Heather states that she felt stronger knowing he was there with her and told him that they would get through this and that they would have a bigger family someday."

There is more, but this is what started the tears.  It all seems so far away, yet feels so fresh.  The thought of having a baby growing inside of me seems so distant.  But, the grief is still there.

I remember yelling "NO!" so loudly that I am sure everyone in the other rooms could hear me.

I remember hearing Jamie cry and feeling that I needed to be strong to support him.  He's always been my rock and I needed to be there for him.

I remember the look of sorrow and sympathy on the ultrasound tech's face, and her gentle comment that she would give us some time, she left the room.  And, I remember the last photo she printed of our sweet little boy.  I remember feeling so grateful that she knew I wanted a picture, the last thing I would ever have to remind me of him. 

I remember calling work and asking an email to be sent out ASAP to stop the congratulatory emails.  And, I remember calling my mom.  The first thing I said is, "Mom, I want you to know we will be OK, but...."  I didn't want her to worry.  What mom wouldn't?  I wanted to hug her so bad knowing that she, too, was experiencing great loss.  Her cherished grandchild was no longer alive in me. 

Home study.  We got through reading the rest of it and it circled back to our commitment and excitement for adoption.  But, for now, I'm back to mourning our little boy that we won't meet until we go to heaven.

Tomorrow is a new day. 

That's sounds great, but really?

I was teaching Sunday School the other morning (you guessed it, Sunday morning) and someone asked me about how the adoption process was going.  Then she commented that I'd probably be one of those people that adopted and got pregnant.  (Note: Remember, we were in the process of completing our adoption paperwork and got pregnant.  Then, we lost the baby.)  I commented, "Yeah, that would be great, but I don't even know that we'll make that an option again."  She looked confused.  I responded, "You have to make getting pregnant a possibility first, after 4 losses, we aren't sure we are willing to do that again."  Then she went on, "Oh, you just never know, I bet it will happen." 

Really, people?

Honestly, I feel like at this point, if we wanted to get pregnant, we could make it happen.  It may be costly (mentally, physically and financially), but it could happen.  For Pete's sake, it's happened 5 times! 

The scary part is STAYING pregnant.  We don't know enough about our losses to pinpoint and prevent a future loss.  I understand that sometimes you have to take risks to get the reward, but look at our history.  It was hard to get pregnant.  We did, and were blessed with Griffin.  Followed by difficulty getting pregnant, $30,000 in medical expenses to achieve pregnancy, and 4 miscarriages, back to back.  4.  What would you do?  See what I mean?  It feels safer not to go there.  I want babies to live.  Live.  Have a chance at life. 

I'll hear more comments like this one.  And, I'll respond the same way.  Somehow I want to try to get people to understand.  And, it's hard.  I wouldn't have understood 3 years ago.  But, unfortunately, I understand today. 

Due Date

As July approached and the days passed, in the back of my mind I kept thinking about the "would've beens".  If I were still pregnant I would've been.... But, it's just that, it's the would've been, not the AM.  On the day of my projected due date I was looking through some papers to find a card, and found photos that my good friend Mandi took of me when I was pregnant in January: 13 weeks, 5 days.  My IVF cycle lead to Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (OHSS), so my belly was already popping out.  I loved it.  Mandi came to visit and to take pictures of Griffin.  Jamie was out of town, and we thought it would be cute to have some belly shots taken to surprise him with.  Jamie and I had both waited for this pregnancy for a long time and fought hard to get it.  Mandi took some great photos.  Two days later I found out that our baby had died.

About two weeks later, a good friend sent me a book called Naming The Child, a wonderful book that was just what I needed at the time.  I got to an interesting part of the book where the author suggested that if you knew you were going to miscarry or have a stillbirth, to have belly photos taken--it may be one of the only photos you have of your baby.  I felt comforted knowing that Mandi gave me an incredible gift by taking those photos.  A few weeks later, she sent me copies.  She knew I wanted them, but I couldn't get myself to order them.  Again, an amazing gift.  So, on my due date, I ran across them and paused to think about our little boy that didn't make it, and the hope we still have for growing our family.

January 8, 2011

Simple doctor's visit not so simple

On 6/22, I had to head back to the doctor for a follow up appointment for our recent miscarriage--this felt like the last step to be able to "move on". (Really, how do you move on from all of this....I think it's more like acceptance and coping, than moving on.)  As I walked in, my OB's nurse told me that he was running behind, so it would be a little wait.  I was grateful to sit down in the empty waiting room, a follow up appointment to a miscarriage isn't exactly where I want to be surrounded by pregnant bellies.  I grabbed a Parents magazine and thought to myself that they should have some reading material that didn't revolve around being pregnant or being a parent.  Just think of all of the women battling infertility sitting next to other women with swollen bellies and another reminder of their struggle sitting on the end tables.   Soon a pregnant woman showed up, then another and another.  My nurse popped her head out of the door to the examine rooms and said, "Heather it's going to be a while, but I don't want you to have to wait out here."  Wow, how thoughtful.  I knew I'd be fine, but it's nice to have a little TLC.  She asked if we were able to start our adoption again, so I gave her the good news that we scheduled our home study.  Again, how thoughtful. 
So, I had my exam, and my doctor left the room.  When he came back, I expected to tell him that I'd see him in the office in a year for my annual appointment.  Closure....I didn't anticipate heading back for a pregnancy appointment anytime soon.  Instead, he walked in the room with a big binder and said that he attended a reproductive conference last week.  (I secretly always hoped something like this would happen...that one of our doctors would find out why we couldn't have more children--other than the obvious things we've been diagnosed with and could remedy.)  He started talking about telomere shortening and showed me PowerPoint slides.  To sum it up in simple terms, it's premature aging of your eggs.  He spoke with another doctor that has worked with us and they agree that this could be the reason for our miscarriages, it's possible that my eggs carry short telomeres, which leads to poor embryo health.  What he said makes sense.  I produced about 25 eggs each time we did IVF (for those of you that don't know--that's A LOT).  Five days later, when it was time to transfer, I had 2 left one time and 3 left another time.  Obviously not good odds.  But, they weren't sure if it was a male or female factor issue.  He went on to say that this is in the research stage and that at this point there doesn't seem to be anything we could do about it.  He commented that one company sells a protein that they claim helps, but it's a small fortune and my doctor thinks they are simply out to make money.  So, maybe this is the case.  But, maybe not.
I was caught off guard and thought of a ton of questions after I left.  I couldn't get in touch with Jamie, and started to cry on the way home.  I thought about the great husband and father he was, and it made me feel so much guilt and pain that my body may be preventing him from having the joy of more children.  I gt home and filled Jamie in and, of course, he calmed me down.  He said that even if he knew that I could never have children, he would have married me anyway.  And, that we will have more children someday, and, I believe him.
I spent some time googling telomere shortening and got some articles from other women in my online infertility support group.   I have lots more questions for my doctors, and am not sure when I will be ready to ask them.  And, I know I should see if I can get tested for this--I was able to find a lab in Texas that tested telomere length.  At the same time I don't want to find out I am aging prematurely.  As a mom with so much to look forward to, that scares me. 
So, the simple doctor's visit wasn't so simple.

Heaven is for Real

Two weeks ago I was in Cub and passed by the section of books and one caught my eye, it had a yellow cover with a cute little blonde haired boy on it, he looked like he was close to Griffin's age. It's title was Heaven is for Real. On the cover it read, "A little boy's astounding story of his trip to heaven and back." I was tempted to buy it, but thought I better check it out from the library and save some cash. So, I made a mental note of it and finished my shopping.

The next day Jen came to pick me up for a day at Como Zoo with the kiddos. I hopped into her van and saw the same book sitting on the middle console. I picked up, about to tell her that I just saw it last night and wanted to read it, and she told me she brought it because she thought I'd like it. Weird, huh?

It was a great and quick read. I always believed in heaven and heard believable stories of people dying, visiting heaven and coming back to life, but this book really solidified it. One part really sang to me:

The little boy, Colton, went up to his mother and commented that he had two sisters. She corrected him, that he only had one. Then he corrected her, he also had the sister that died in his mommy's tummy. Colton's mom had a miscarriage before Colton was born that he never knew about. Wow. He went on to describer her and said that she was okay, and that God adopted her. His mom inquired about her name, and he said that she didn't have a name because their parents never named her. The miscarriage occurred in the first trimester, so they didn't know they were having a girl, so never named her.

I imagined that someday I would meet my 4 other children in heaven, but book made the concept seem much more real. We may not ever have the three children we hoped to raise here on earth, but we will sure have a big family once we get to heaven. We will have 4 kiddos to meet, and name. As wonderful as that moment will be, I'd like to stay planted here for quite a while and take good care of our little miracle here on earth.

Colton described heaven as very colorful, with lots of rainbows. Now when I see rainbows (and I have seen a lot lately thanks to our rainy summer weather!!), I think of heaven and the 4 children we have up there that are adopted by God, and are truly safe.

Healing

At our last doctor's appointment, we knew there was very little hope. Our baby was behind in growth and the ultrasound tech could not detect a heartbeat. But, our doctor scheduled a follow up appointment just in case....he wasn't ready to do anything quite yet, and thought we should wait two weeks for my body to take care of things naturally. But, it didn't.

So, we headed back to the clinic and walked to the dreaded ultrasound room once again. I think I have had a dozen ultrasounds in the last year, I am a regular there. A dozen ultrasounds and no baby. I remember when I was pregnant with Griffin and couldn't wait for my next ultrasound. Now, I drive to my appointments wishing I had the courage to drive past the clinic and land up at some happy place. But, avoidance doesn't change the outcome, it only changes my need to have to face it.

Luckily, we had my favorite ultrasound tech. She struggled with infertility for years and has three children. She gives me hope and is absolutely one of the sweetest people I have encountered at the clinic.

We followed her to the room and I noticed her shirt, it was a pretty fitted scrub shirt, and had white embroidered words on it. My eyes focused on the word "heal". Yes, that is what I needed to do, heal. I saw the word hope and my eyes moved back to healing. It's too hard to have hope right now, I need to concentrate on healing first.

She talked through the ultrasound and told me to ask any questions I wanted. At first all I could do was cry. No flickering heartbeat. I wasn't expecting it, but was praying that some amazing miracle took place, but all along I knew what the reality was, the baby had passed away and my body was holding on to him or her for dear life. I started to ask questions and she answered them, supported us and comforted us. We didn't leave with images, we left empty handed. Nothing changed, but my body was still holding on.

We walked down the long hallway to the waiting room. I commented that if felt like the walk of shame. The poor tear stained couple that has walked this walk too many times empty handed, or with images of babies that didn't survive. In the waiting room I noticed a pregnant woman who saw us and diverted her eyes. It's not hard to figure out what our tears were from.

We sat in the waiting room and I reminded myself that we had support--Jamie was close--we had each other. I thought of the flowers on our table at home and remembered that we had people that cared in our lives and that would support us through this. It's part of the healing.

We met with our doctor. We had choices, I opted for the medication. We have no idea how long my body would hold on, and although I still wanted to hold on, I know that I need to heal. We talked about all sorts of things, and he decided to do some blood work.

So many decisions ahead, but for now, we need to focus on healing.

I left and I reflected on that exactly 4 years ago, 11 minutes before my ultrasound, our perfect miracle was born.

I needed to spend some time grieving, then had to help my little boy celebrate his 4th birthday. Our precious miracle that continues to give me hope.

If I was Normal

I'd be thinking I was one of the lucky ones that was getting thorough my first trimester without morning sickness. I'd be journaling in my new, crisp pregnancy journal. I'd be crossing off another day on the calendar, smiling because in 4 weeks I'd be sharing my pregnancy news with others.

But, I'm not "normal". I'm infertile. So, instead, I get prime treatment at the doctor's office. And, because I get prime treatment I found out early on that there was little hope for our baby. I know that my lack of nausea isn't good fortune, it's because my baby isn't growing. I journal in a book with lots of blank lines....not fun facts about how much my baby has grown in the last few days. I don't cross days off on my calendar, because, for now, I don't have anything to count down for. But someday, someday I will have a countdown to something really good, really special, our baby story. Someday.

I wish I was normal.

One Day at a Time, One Foot in Front of the Other

The day started rainy and gloomy. I felt rainy and gloomy. Why oh why or why do we have to keep going through this? It's so hard to make sense out of it. I can't make sense out of it.

I spent the morning shopping for flowers with my mom. Jamie knows that being productive is one of the ways I cope with our infertility struggles and our devastating losses, and he has warmly embraced that philosophy, too. So, up went our new flower boxes. (Thanks, Stacy, for the idea!)



Then, we had a surprise lakeside visit from my dad in their new pontoon we didn't know anything about!



My parents brought over dinner. My mom planted with me. My dad helped to entertain Griffin and Jamie mowed the lawn.

I felt less gloomy and saw this:

Just the sign I needed to see, that everything would be ok. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was going to be ok.

Our Nightstands are Having an Identity Crisis

I told Jamie the other day that our night stands appear to be having an identity crisis. In between the Real Simple and ESPN magazines are books about miscarriages, pregnancy, getting pregnant naturally and adoption. I am sure our cleaning lady thinks we are nuts. Heck, I think we are nuts. I put the pregnancy books away tonight. I am tired of taking them in and out of the bin in our basement. Maybe it's time to send them to Good Will. Or better yet, sell them in an adoption garage sale. How ironic.

Hope on Hold.

So, we had our first home study meeting scheduled for Tuesday, Jamie and I were looking forward to meeting our adoption social worker and were 100% on board with our plans for adoption. Then, life threw us a curve ball. And, it was a great curve ball...for about two weeks. Then, it lead to more sorrow and loss. I thought we were done with that. No. Such. Luck.

Here's the story.

My cycle has been a bit out of whack since the D&C, so it has been hard to tell what has been going on. But, one thing was for sure, it seemed like I was a bit "late". So, I did what every good woman that has peed on way too many negative pregnancy tests would do--waited. About 6 days went by and I asked Jamie what he thought we should do. His idea? Wait more. Yeah, but. What about that event I had to go to and be a bus hostess with all of the wine? Yeah, better not be downing too much of that IF I actually was pregnant. And the running, better put a kibosh on that, too. So, we decided it would be a good idea to take a test. I had a "feeling" I was pregnant, but after everything we have been through I don't exactly trust my body.

On Mother's Day evening we found out we were pregnant. SHOCK! We are THOSE people. Those ones that apply for adoption and get pregnant. Holy Cow. I was secretly hoping that we'd adopt a baby and BAM be surprised with a pregnancy, but this was over the top--we didn't even get to the home study.

But, here's the thing. We WANT to adopt. We are mentally invested in adoption. We know we want to grow our family through adoption. It's on our hearts.

The good thing is, the two of us seem to get on the same page {FAST} when it comes to family building. So, we said the same thing....if this works out, we'll have this baby, wait until he/she turns one and apply for adoption again. Yeah, great plan! I love plans. How come my plans don't seem to work out very often?

So, I head to the doctor in disbelief a week ago Wednesday and they confirmed my pregnancy. 5 weeks, 2 days with a pretty little gestational sac. Oh, I love being pregnant.

I decided this time I was going to let myself enjoy the pregnancy. So, I ordered a pregnancy journal, and gosh darn it I was going to use it! (During my last pregnancy I took the pregnancy journal I used for Griffin and wrote on the margins in a different color pen--I was afraid to get a journal, like it would jinx it or something. Pathetic.)

I was so excited. I was going to have a baby, our baby, Griffin's sibling. Did I mention I love being pregnant? I love maternity clothes...oh and I had such cute ones from the last pregnancy that I barely got to wear, some not at all! And, for Ann's wedding I'd be pregnant--how fun! Now, when July rolled around and I felt the grief from our last loss (he was due July 12), I would know that come late Dec/early Jan we would have a baby. We've prayed for blessings and we got it! We've been praying for our birth mother and it turns out our birth mother is ME! Griffin would be so excited, he wants a brother or sister so badly.

Don't get me wrong, I was NERVOUS, too. But, I kept telling myself, why would this happen if it wasn't meant to be? Why would I have to go through one more terrible thing to grow our family? It happened, out of the blue, naturally (although I was on Metformin which helps with the condition I have--PCOS.). So, clearly it was meant to be. I worked on calming my fears and enjoying the fact that I had our baby growing in me.

We had another ultrasound scheduled for today. I was afraid to go. I knew that if we got bad news everything would change, I could no longer live in the dream that we were going to have another miracle baby and that I WAS PREGNANT!

I knew within seconds that things were not looking good. The ultrasound tech wasn't talking, just clicking through different screens. I asked some questions and she commented that it was early, but she also said that I am measuring at 6 weeks. Not good. I should be at least 6 weeks, 4 days. And, my early ultrasounds have always been ahead of the actual date. No heart beat was detected. Tears fell.

I went to change in the bathroom. I could hear the ultrasound in the room next to me, "Here are the fingers..." and a cute little boy making comments. A big brother. My poor Griffin doesn't even know that he was supposed to be a big brother, but his sibling doesn't seem to have a fighting chance.

We went upstairs and talked to our doctor. There isn't much hope. Hope? But, that's what I have focused on for so long. HOPE. And, for the first time in a long time, I, too felt little hope. How could I ever try to get pregnant again knowing that I have had 4 consecutive losses? Something is wrong, and we don't know what it is.

I asked about more testing. I've done all the major tests for pregnancy loss. Unexplained. I have unexplained losses. My babies are dying and we don't know why. And, I want them oh so badly. So unfair, so unfair. I want to be a mom again. Jamie is the best dad ever. And Griffin, sweet little Griffin wants a baby in our house so badly.

So, our adoption is on hold and I am losing our baby. Our hope. I'm going to have a four sweet babies to meet when I get to heaven.