Dreams and False Alarms

The Verdict is in

Triploidy. Basically, the baby had 3 sets of chromosomes (69 instead of 46), most likely from letting two sperm instead of the one.  I sort of imagine my old dithery egg getting confused, and forgetting she'd already let one in...

As sad as this could be, it is also actully a relief. My worst fear is that we would have miscarried a genetically normal child.  That would have meant that something was up with my uterus, or blood or something, and that would mean DE would be a more perilous endeavor.

Dr Calm recommends moving on to Donor Eggs, and that is likely where we are headed. Although Dr Google says that Triploidy is not dependant on a mothers age (one of the few), given that we don't know what felled Sparky (likely the translocation, but that is just our 'choice' to believe that in the absence of data), and that I didn't get pregnant with the Donor Sperm in the last IVF, that it's time to cut our losses and jump on the DE train.

Husband and I haven't had any time to talk this over, but I'm assuming that after my cycle in February, we'll be in Lupron land.

I am remarkably relieved.  I was also worried that they wouldn't be able to culture the fetus, that's what happened with Sparky, and to not know twice would be awful.

So come on period!  Let's have one of those nice short cycles you are famous for and get this show on the road.

A new kind of limbo

I don't know if I'm delusional, or dissociated, but I am not as slayed by this miscarriage as I was the last. Either that is good, or that is bad, I can't figure it out.

I know I was more willing to enjoy the moments where I felt happy, and careful to not project myself too far into the future. Maybe that helped, or again, maybe I'm to out of it to feel like I should. Or maybe, this is ok. I wish I knew.

Tomorrow we meet with Dr Calm. Either she will have results from the analysis, or not (or not ever, as it was with Sparky). I really hope she does, we need some sort of way to make a choice about what to do next.

One thing I intermittently obsess about is whether or not my calcium supplement might have killed the baby. I know, sounds crazy,but it had 500% of the vitamin K the of the RDA, and I have a minor clotting issue (one copy of MTFR gene) and vitamin K 'helps' with clotting. Ultimatly, unless Dr C comes back with "baby was fine, but we found huge blood clots" it's probably just another way for me to try to have some sense of control in this situation. I also feel like an ass for not reading the bottle. I never would have taken it if I looked at it, but alas I didn't. Shit. Ya know?

Husband and I don't want to know the sex of the baby--I guess it would make it too real for both of us. Maybe not letting him/her be real is our defense against being totally slayed by this.

We are looking at two donors. One has had 3 great cycles with varying numbers of embryos to freeze, and all cycles have resulted in babies (twins and singletons) and the other has 3 cycles, a 4th is under way, but even though she's had live births with all of the cycles, only one of the cycles has resulted in frozen embryos. Somehow to me this just doesn't seem good. Sure it could be a sperm issue--but all three? Ok, maybe couples with sperm issues are drawn to her...

Warning:Petty Details Mentioned that Make us look Shallow.

The choice seems clear based on previous cycle data, but there is an appearance issue--the donor's mother has olive skin, and Husband and I are fair (although he's got dark hair), and oddly enough we are worried about the child feeling as if they fit with us, if the they do have the olive skin. He told me about a former work co-worker of his whose parents both had fair skin, she had olive skin, and throughout her life people commented on it. Since we are able to choose, should we choose an option that doesn't create more attention? And then I think, no matter what, we can't choose what is going to happen, how the genes will combine.

Ultimatly, I just like the donor with FE's better--since it's all fantasy anyway, I have a sense of her as sweet, well our doctor said she was a sweet person, so maybe that is in there, but I 'like' her.

Also, as I said in my last post, we may find out that my husband actually got me pregnant through the usual means, and scientifically speaking, trying with my eggs isn't a crazy idea.

For us, the question is what can we stand. Can we stand to try with my eggs and withstand the terror through the amnio? Or do we need to stop this madness, spend all our moula on DE and just get on with it.

At this point, I don't want a baby from my eggs more than I want the DE baby. I just want a baby. I want to get on with the loving and growing and being a mother part of this mishigas.  I am very good at being infertile. One more miscarriage and I earn my "Habitual Aborter" badge (sorry, gallows humor).

So the new kind of limbo is about not being a mess, not being sure, but just being here all over again. I also feel absurdly hopeful. Why? I have no idea. I guess the dividend of all this loss and growth is that I can more quickly dispense with the sense of humiliation and shame that accompanies these reproductive failures.

I talked to an old friend that just adopted, and she pointed me towards her adoption agency which looks great. It works with singles, same sex couples and us types (I won't work with one that doesn't), and has a very approachable website. Also, I think I could write a statement now--We rock, give us your baby. Sounds about right, eh?

I also had a bit of a spiritual epiphany on while listening to Fresh Air on Dec 23. Greg Epstein, a Jewish Humanist Rabbi, has a new book called "Good without God" and here is what he said about death and loss, which really resonated with me, and what I have come to feel more clearly over these last 3 years:

"Mr. EPSTEIN: And if you think God is mystery, well mystery is not a great source of comfort in the face of death. You know, at least I didn't find the mystery to be all that comforting when my father died or when I lost other loved ones and what I was really wanting was not, you know, the presence of a mystery but the presence of people to love me and care for me. And that's what I try to offer in the face of death to the members of my own community, is the sense that, look, there is no justification for the tragedies that happen. There is no good reason that we could ever come up with for why the Holocaust happened, for why innocent children are ripped away from us every single day, every minute.

There's nothing that one could say that would say, oh, this makes it better. Or there - you'll be rewarded in haven. No, it's not sufficient. And what, to me, the only thing that we can say is that we care, we love, we acknowledge. Death is real. It's final. It takes tremendous, tremendous courage to cope with. And we have to love one another because that's what we get. We get this world, this one shot."

I know for many of you God and Jesus are a great comfort, for me, it has never felt real. The closest I could get was the Jesus was one really smart guy who was very right about a lot of things, but I don't find comfort in God or Jesus. For me, I find comfort in the love of my community that acknowledges and helps me to bear my pain and loss, and in helping others to bear their pain and loss. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, each and every one of you who has shared my pain, buoyed me with your humor, your anger on my behalf, and your gentleness with my heart and losses. I could not have gotten to this new kind of limbo with out you, and I am profoundly grateful.

A couple of really nice things that happened yesterday

1. I got my "For Your Tears" handkerchief from Debbie Pucci, which of course, made me cry.

2. My sweetest co-worker, got my note about the miscarriage, walked up to me in the hallway and gave the longest, sweetest hug. Somehow that hug really reached me in a way that not much else has in the last week.

3. When I saw my chiropractor, who is also such a dear dear person, I told her about some of the digestive issues I was having since the miscarriage, which can absolutely be attributed to hormones, but also, to what she called the "Grief and Loss Diet." Which relies on a lot of cookies. Somehow calling it that made me smile, and also let me put a frame around it which makes it feel like I can set it aside after the new year.

4. We made reservations for sat and sun after xmas at a cabin overlooking the ocean--and we need some ocean right about now.

5. My kitten plays fetch, and presents her toy to be thrown. She might be a dog.

Surfacing, bobbing, gasping, blathering.

Friday was awful. It was that horrific crashing day when the progesterone really starts to plummet and your whole life flashes in front of your eyes while you wear 3D "your life is crap" glasses. Yeah, that good.

I raged at my therapist for telling me, earlier in the week, that I needed to rebuild my trust in my body, to which I politely replied, "Not until I have some reason to!"  I also said fuck a lot. A lot.  I said mean things about my 22 year old nice who just had her second child with her sort of boyfriend, who she allegedly doesn't like, and her  main goal in life to get tattoos and piercings. Oh, and don't even let me get started on the fact that she never even sent a thank you (even a verbal one through my mom who was at the baby shower) or a written note for the $100 Wal-Mart gift card I gave her--ya know, the place she buys her formula and diapers. For the moment, she can just suck it. Yeah. I'm feeling really nice.

Also, if you are my friend IRL, I can't imagine you will be able to take this any other way than to be hurt, but it is really painful for me to open your holiday cards. Please keep sending them, in the part of me that isn't burned into a little black cinder, it is nice to see how your children have grown, but the rest of me just weeps. Weeps at the sight of all of that adorable abundant child-ness.  If we don't have a baby by next year, I'm seriously considering sending a picture of our cats. I know I could just not look at them, but I want to. I want to be normal and happy, and enjoy other peoples happiness, but when you are coming off a miscarriage, or a failed IVF, it's just a little hard to be rational.

So back to Friday. I feel, and especially that day felt, like a colossal failure. My work, my business, my reproductive organs, my everything.  I just had no place in me that felt good at all. Ok, that isn't completely true, my husband, my marriage and my cats were exempt from that shit storm.

The reason I most likely miscarried is a chromosomal abnormality. It's the most common reason for a woman my age. Furthermore, husband and I thought I'd be ovulating a little later in my cycle than I did, and we were, shall we say, injudicious with our timing. So there is a possibility that for once, at the ripe old age of 39, I actually might have gotten pregnant by having sex with my husband. Hopefully the baby wasn't too far gone, like last time, and they'll be able to culture some of the cells. It would be good to know if it was the translocation, or just old eggs. No matter what the reason is, we still lost our baby, and choosing what to do next is daunting. If it was the translocation, do we take another whack at donor sperm and my eggs? If it wasn't do we chalk it up to regular 39 year old miscarriage (oy) risk, and try donor sperm, or do we just throw in the towel and go for DE.

Sprogblogger, proceed with caution...

AND THEN...what if that doesn't work. It doesn't work for 20% of people. Yes, I am allowed to think about that. We have been on the wrong side of every fucking statistic we've come up against, why should this be different. We can't afford to do shared risk--it's 31K plus meds, plus donor compensation. Yeah, we'd need a serious cash infusion to make that seem even reasonable. So when I said in my last post that DE was the bottom of the financial and emotional barrel, I didn't mean that we didn't value it, or even feel like it was our best bet, it's just that it's our last chance at pregnancy, and anytime "last" is in the equation, it takes on enormous weight. Of course, after we rob a few banks we could do adoption (even county adoption costs money--they don't just give those babies away).  Yes, I am feeling a little angry and bitter.

Yesterday was better, I did the laundry, I made some very thick bean soup, I baked some bread, and caught up on some movies and TV shows, attend at all times by at least 2 of my three cats.  Little furry bundles of love.  Many multi cat households struggle with the relationships between the kitties, but our kitties are very compatible. We have two boys and a girl. The girl kitty is 6 months old and so cuddly and playful. There are times when Husband and I just marvel at how lucky we got with this little one.

Today I am determined to get a tree. Part of my funk on Friday also feeling like I didn't have the energy to do it for us any more. Husband major holiday tradition involves Chinese food, not too hard to honor. Over the last three years I've tried to set the stage for welcoming a child into our home, I've made some stabs at holiday traditions, but they all get squashed under the weight of all of this fucking loss.  So, today I going to drag him away from his desk, where he sits to make the all important money for all this fruitless baby making mishigas, and try to have something resembling a good day.

And I'll probably cry some more. But oddly not for the baby itself, the way I did for Sparky, who seemed so real, so inevitable, but for all the faith I've lost; for all the time that has passed; for all of the fear I have about all of the next steps; and most of all, my fear that I'll never recover. That even if we do finally get our child, I'll always be this broken, sad shell of a mother.

Thank You

Thank you so much, each and every one of you who has commented, sometimes twice, to let us know that you are with us in our pain and loss.

I am numb. I may be angry, but I'm not quite sure who or what I'm angry with. I can't cry. I cried more on Monday than I have Tuesday and Wednesday combined.  I just feel shut down.

At this point what I am most sure of is that I am weary, and that husband is weary. We hardly let down our guard through the whole 7 weeks--each of us was waiting for a bad thing to happen, and when it did, it felt as if the inevitable had come to pass. Of course, that's hindsight, but still, we are so battle weary it is hard to really believe that pregnant means baby.

We are at a crossroads. Hopefully we'll have the genetic results in two weeks, hopefully there are some results to be had. The last time it was too late and nothing could be learned from the culture.

We are looking for the money tree, wishing that doing DE didn't mean scraping so close to the bottom of both our emotional and financial reserves.

Thank you again for all of your support--it means the world to us.

No heartbeat

The baby died sometime last week. D&C tomorrow. Heartbroken and numb.

Full Contingency Living**updated

I am not doing so good today.

I managed to keep the fear of the baby being dead on the periphery through most of the weekend, but this morning, it has crawled up into my head, and won't be shaken loose.

There is no escaping the realty that my breasts have deflated a bit, and are less sore, and even if one of the baby sites says that might happen around 8 weeks, it just feels like a bad sign.

At one point, as I lay in bed half asleep, the voice of Henry Kissinger said "Your baby is dead." I'm not one to put a lot of faith in former secretary's of state speaking to me in my dreams, but it was spooky.

I realized earlier in the week that every time I go to the bathroom, I run through the contingency plan of what I will do if there is blood. What I will move around, when I will get the D&C, what I'll say on the blog, who I'll email, what I'll do about work.  Of course, I could stop myself, but it is this kind of odd calm that comes over me as I plan what to do. It's an awful sort of calm.

This morning, as I lay there, I thought "If the baby is dead, how do I face Christmas?" I'm woefully deficient in holiday spirit as it is (not a life long condition), but I can't imagine how  to do it. How to pull it together, to hold it together. Of course, I don't have to, but how much more of living can I opt out of because I'm in so much pain?  My work, which I worked so hard to get established in is limping along, my best friend (or former best friend) cut me off over something I wished she'd have worked out with me, and I can't seem to find the juice to push through and get excited about anything. Of course I have plenty of reason for all of this, but ack. It's hard. One thing I can say is that my family is as supportive as they can be, and my husband is the best, and my marriage is definitely stronger for the experience of infertility, and my cats are a constant sources of joy. BUT. I'm at a loss. If we lose this baby...what?  What. How. How do I do it again? What is left to pick up? I don't knit, I have no plan. No contingency plan for what to do next.

And maybe the baby is fine, and I'm all worked up for nothing. But I'm so scared, scared of the baby being dead, and of my own deadness that it feels too hard to hold onto the possibly that the baby is ok, and that I'm going to be ok. I've been through crappy times before, heck a lot of times before, and I will be ok again. But it feels so hard to believe in this moment.

**I have an ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow at 2:30--Dr Calm offered it because she knows how anxious we are.

Upon further refelction, uh meaning when I'd calmed down a bit, it occured to me that my breasts haven't shrunk, but they don't hurt as much. Perhaps it is because they aren't growing right now. If it's anything like puberty,they hurt when they are growing, but not when they aren't.

Thanks for all the reassurance and sharing your stories, it really helps.

For once, the internet was reassuring

So, after all the fabulousness that was this Monday and Tuesday (making it to 8 weeks, and seeing the baby 2x in 2 days), my progesterone level came back at 9.9. For those of you not in the know, that is not optimal. It's not insurmountable, but it's not great.

Essentially it means that my placenta, such as it is, isn't make a huge amount of progesterone. The treatment for this is progesterone supplementation, which I've been on since the IUI, so there's not much else to do. I did ask the doctor if I could increase from 1 pill 2x a day to 1 pill 3x a day, and she said "it couldn't hurt." But she was also not very concerned.  she told me about a patient who had a level of 2, and that child is now 22 years old. So clearly 9.9  isn't too bad.

From what Husband and I can tell from our extensive googling, low progesterone can trigger a miscarriage, because the low level triggers the uterus to shed the lining.  But, there isn't a clear indication, except from one site that wasn't a medical site, but rather one with a lot of angels clutter, that probably said "if you've exepreinced infertilty, you weren't meant to be a parent" so I just stopped reading that one!

Dr Calm, wonderful woman that she is, said "I'm not concerned, some patients need to stay on supplementation through 14 weeks, but given your history, I'm happy to do an ultrasound for you next week to check to see if there is a heartbeat and that the baby is still growing." Husband has an all day conference call that he can't get out of on Monday, so we're going in on Tuesday at 2:30.

Part of me feels scared, and part of me feels like, well, like maybe it's still going to be alright. The internet is practically littered with happy outcomes--women who's P4 levels were lower or the same as mine who are hold perfectly healthy babies right now. As the title says, for once, the internet was reassuring.

Also, Julia at Uncommon Misconception had a similar situation to mine: good betas and ok P4 and then it dropped and she started bleeding, now me, no bleeding (WHEW), but is has dropped from a high of 27 to 10.  One of the things that I have wondered is if I have a slight luteal phase defect--not one that occurs every month, but might be on and off. One of my friends who is a doctor reads this, so she will probably tell me I am out of my mind, but one of my pet theories is that maybe I didn't have a great corpus luteum, and that in this part of the pregnancy when the placenta is about to take over, the corpus luteum is running out of steam, but the placenta isn't ready to take over yet. (**Yup, friends says I full of it, and to not believe my crackpot theories!) The endometrian, doesn't show up in your blood stream (but the prometreum and the shots do), so maybe in my uterus it's like a 40, but in my blood its a 10.  Again, this just me speculating.

Anyhoodle, please please please let my baby be alive and growing on Tuesday.

Off to the chiropractor and to make Rugelach with my mom.

Rehearsal

As anxious as I have been all week, today I'm feeling calm, not confident, but calm.  Maybe the calm before the storm? Either way, it will be a storm today.

I find myself rehearsing the news, both good and bad, obviously, the bad news version is more upsetting to rehearse, but I am about 70/30 rehearsing bad and good news scenarios. I'm also imagining contingencies--if pregnant do this, if not pregnant, do that. It's as if today is the IF in the If/Then statement cascade.

Thank you everyone for your good wishes, and your sticking by me while I moan the same moans over and over.

T minus 1 hour, 30 minutes...oy.

It's the Trauma, Stupid!

I tried to come up with a better title, but that one just stuck.

On Tuesday I was struck by the realization that every time I imagine the 8 week ultrasound on Monday, I replay the 8 week ultrasound with Sparky.  I even manage to transpose the office suites (we'll be at a different office next Monday), but the outcome is always the same. No heartbeat. Husband and I weeping into each others arms. Sending out an email saying "no heartbeat." Updating the blog. Going in for the D&C. More weeping.

And of course, you and everyone else can tell me it's going to be fine, and that you have a good feeling about this, but me, I've got no good feelings to access.

The key to surviving being triggered by a traumatic situation is being able to remember that you are not in that place anymore, you are not helpless, you can do things differently (i.e. it's not snowing like it was the day you had your accident, you are in a Volvo etc, your an adult, you know Karate etc), but that is not true of pregnacy. When all of the known things have been ruled out, you just have to go through it, and that is not a very good recipe for managing the trauma aspect of it. Ok, you can do things differently, change protocols, meditate, but you can't avoid the reality of the pregnancy and the fact that whether or not the baby is ok in there is out of your control.   I am helpless to affect the outcome of the ultrasound on Monday. I can't worry it into a good outcome, I can't Zen it in to a good outcome, I have to accept that it is going to be what it is going to be. And yes it could be a good outcome, but it could also be a bad outcome, and the reality of that is pretty disempowering.

And I know, I know, that is what parenting is all about etc etc. But c'mon, ya gotta admit there is nothing like looking down the barrel of the same gun and thinking "I want to be in front of this gun, but damn it's scary."

So, 3 more days (I'm not counting Monday, that day is THE day, so just today and sat and sun) to distract and comfort myself. I've got Foyles War, Midsomer Murders and some more Rei Shimura mystery's to read. Oh,and I guess I could do some work if I really needed to.

Oy.