I was pregnant with a little embryo, one who tried very hard, but ultimately couldn't overcome her own physical obstacles. At the time I wrote the following blog post, I was eagerly awaiting a second beta. It is a very long-winded history of our journey to that point. I know there are readers who joined in the fun way, way after all of the nightmares started to fade, so for you (and for nostalgia) I reprint that history for you here.
History 04.27.04 (4:46 am)
While I am waiting for Beta #2 to arrive, I thought I would give a history of our journey to this point.
I wanted children from an early age. My mother remembers me telling her I wanted a baby when I was not quite two years old. She thought it meant I wanted a sibling. So she gave me my brother, Donnie, who became my best friend (although I mommied him to a spoiled state.)
As I got older, my mindset changed.
When Brad and I first got married, we swore that neither of us wanted children. We liked sleeping in, we loved hogging the video games to ourselves, we loved seeing R rated movies whenever we wanted. It suited us. Besides, kids are dirty, they always seem to have crud around their noses and they are loud.
That was then.
What changed this was a birthday and a death in the family.
Brad turned 30 the year his father passed away. It was heartbreaking and resonated loudly that life is fleeting. We realized our mortality and that all the little reasons for not wanting a child were selfish and misdirected.
Truth was, we both wanted to be parents after all.
So in December 2001, we embarked on the trials of trying to conceive. All you do is stop the birth control and then you have a baby.... right?
Boy were we arrogant.
A few months went by with nothing, then in April 2002 I got pregnant. We were relieved because after ALL THOSE THREE WHOLE MONTHS, we were scared we were never going to have a child. Yeah, 3 whole whopping months, what amateurs.
It didn't matter, though. Before I ever got a reasonable beta, my period arrived. I was sad, but you know, this happens sometimes and the next one is just fine!
So we waited the obligatory one month to try again, then started with the temping, the OPK'ing, the fancy contortions suitable to conceiving, blah blah..
I got pregnant again in July 2002. This one gave me a positive pregnancy test. I called my doctor's office and her nurse said:
"Oh we don't need to run a blood test, the positive urine pregnancy test is OUR BIBLE around here."
Satisfied with this answer, we proceeded to tell everyone we knew.
I started cramping the next day, so I asked for a blood test. After the blood draw, I used the hospital restroom and VOILA! Blood. I freaked out and told a nurse. Her response was a cold, "Oh, it sounds like you are miscarrying!"
Reality hit me in the jaw with a firm right hook. This wasn't as easy as it looked on TV. I was devastated, and telling the hoardes of people it was over was even harder.
That was when I found the support boards. It was the only thing that kept my sanity in check. I found a community of women who had been through the same things I had. They answered all the questions I had, and helped me start to repair the shabby, torn edges my emotions had developed. Before long, they became close friends of mine.
It wasn't until December 2002 that I got pregnant again. This time was assisted by Clomid and Prometrium. It was Christmas, and we were in Dallas, Texas, visiting my family. I got a positive ovulation on Christmas morning. Brad was sick with a severe cold, so we were positive that it didn't work.
Lo and behold, two weeks later a positive pregnancy test! I felt pregnant. Nausea, dizziness, the stretching-pulling-aching . The first beta was 25. Not terrible. Progesterone was 109!!! HOLY CRAP!!
Having been burned by the last pregnancy, we told no one. Good thing too. The second beta, three days later, was 48. It went downhill fast from there. The pregnancy was gone as fast as it had arrived.
I went into a deep depression. I missed school, I missed work, I withdrew from society. Brad had become sullen. He chose to not dwell on the losses as his means of coping. I envied that capability. I would cry in the shower. I would cry in the car on the way ANYWHERE. I would collapse into a crumpled heap in the bed with the curtains drawn and cry for hours until I was dehydrated and my eyes were swollen shut. I was a wreck.
Once again, my support board helped me back on my feet. These faceless friends from all over the globe talked me back up. The whole stage played out from sorrow to fury to fear and desperation. They were there to tell me it was ok to feel this way. That was all it took.
That was when we were referred to our first RE. She gave us hope, and gave ME a ton of tests. Lots of blood tests, lots of intrusive, humiliating and painful tests... lots of tests. They found nothing but a few trifle "borderline" causes which they treated me for.
In the meantime, I got a job with a company that was primarily composed of highly prolific women. Pregnant bellies EVERYWHERE!!
I got pregnant after we were "released" from our medically-induced conception break. Wow, I thought. This new job is contagious!! Know what happened? I got pregnant in July 2003. We were in Dallas, Texas, visiting my brand new beautiful nephew, Donnie's little boy. We told Donnie and his wife about the pregnancy.
And then lost it right after pregnancy test #3 told us the pregnancy was biological crap. I never made it to beta #1.
That was when two of my internet-support board friends encouraged me to try acupuncture. I started in September of 2003, the month I turned 32.
My Chinese doctor told me to take a break from trying to have a child. My body was worn out and needed a rest. I couldn't have agreed more. She worked me over, healing my asthma, healing my blood circulation, healing the physical damage all the miscarriages had taken on my body. I felt confident.
We started trying again in December 2003.
Then many of my friends became pregnant at once. BAM! Without warning. I hadn't even had so much as a glimmer of a 2nd line on any tests. I knew this was a sign. There was no way my body would support a pregnancy. I was toast.
I went into the deepest, darkest depression I had ever known. I couldn't be happy for anyone's pregnancy as fully as I had in the past. Every ounce of happiness for them was met with two-fold envy and self-loathing. My emotions were a cancer that was feeding on my self-esteem. Crying for no apparent reason became common. Some call this stage "Rock Bottom". Someone I have grown to respect deeply told me it is the stage where you mourn your fertility. She was completely 100% on the money.
What turned me around? Brad.
We went on a much-needed vacation to Sanibel Island, Florida, in March 2004. We had a great time. We drank, we sunburned, we slept... a lot. But one huge turning point occurred that weekend.
While laying on the beach, Brad and I were watching a small family playing frisbee. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the mire that he wanted me out of, but Brad turned to me and said "One more year, if we aren't pregnant, let's look into adoption."
I started thinking and becoming hopeful again.
When we got back home, we had a long talk and I realized what a nightmare I had become. I didn't even like myself anymore, how could anyone else stand me? I hadn't even realized what a dreadful toll my own emotions had taken on my husband. I vowed then and there to feel more positive and not let stress get to me anymore. I vowed to not to take for granted the important things in my life anymore.
I felt good again.
That was when we saw our 2nd opinion RE. She was the glue that helped make firm the vow I'd made. She said everything I needed to hear: there is still hope.
I started being more dedicated to following the advice of my Chinese doctor. I forced myself to not dwell on negativity anymore (that was hard as hell at first.) I made myself laugh again.
Even if it meant cynical humor.
Then someone incredible happened this week. I can't even begin to fathom the possibility that any of it is coincidence.
I know that this pregnancy could end, just like the others did. I know that I could get my hopes up only to have the rug yanked out from under me. I live with this fear every second. But I vow this to my unborn child and to my husband that I will enjoy every single minute of this pregnancy, even if it is short-lived. I feel that I at least owe this to the little cluster of energy that has been trying for so long to grow inside me.
And that brings us up to date. I hope the next chapter can keep this momentum.
While I am waiting for Beta #2 to arrive, I thought I would give a history of our journey to this point.
I wanted children from an early age. My mother remembers me telling her I wanted a baby when I was not quite two years old. She thought it meant I wanted a sibling. So she gave me my brother, Donnie, who became my best friend (although I mommied him to a spoiled state.)
As I got older, my mindset changed.
When Brad and I first got married, we swore that neither of us wanted children. We liked sleeping in, we loved hogging the video games to ourselves, we loved seeing R rated movies whenever we wanted. It suited us. Besides, kids are dirty, they always seem to have crud around their noses and they are loud.
That was then.
What changed this was a birthday and a death in the family.
Brad turned 30 the year his father passed away. It was heartbreaking and resonated loudly that life is fleeting. We realized our mortality and that all the little reasons for not wanting a child were selfish and misdirected.
Truth was, we both wanted to be parents after all.
So in December 2001, we embarked on the trials of trying to conceive. All you do is stop the birth control and then you have a baby.... right?
Boy were we arrogant.
A few months went by with nothing, then in April 2002 I got pregnant. We were relieved because after ALL THOSE THREE WHOLE MONTHS, we were scared we were never going to have a child. Yeah, 3 whole whopping months, what amateurs.
It didn't matter, though. Before I ever got a reasonable beta, my period arrived. I was sad, but you know, this happens sometimes and the next one is just fine!
So we waited the obligatory one month to try again, then started with the temping, the OPK'ing, the fancy contortions suitable to conceiving, blah blah..
I got pregnant again in July 2002. This one gave me a positive pregnancy test. I called my doctor's office and her nurse said:
"Oh we don't need to run a blood test, the positive urine pregnancy test is OUR BIBLE around here."
Satisfied with this answer, we proceeded to tell everyone we knew.
I started cramping the next day, so I asked for a blood test. After the blood draw, I used the hospital restroom and VOILA! Blood. I freaked out and told a nurse. Her response was a cold, "Oh, it sounds like you are miscarrying!"
Reality hit me in the jaw with a firm right hook. This wasn't as easy as it looked on TV. I was devastated, and telling the hoardes of people it was over was even harder.
That was when I found the support boards. It was the only thing that kept my sanity in check. I found a community of women who had been through the same things I had. They answered all the questions I had, and helped me start to repair the shabby, torn edges my emotions had developed. Before long, they became close friends of mine.
It wasn't until December 2002 that I got pregnant again. This time was assisted by Clomid and Prometrium. It was Christmas, and we were in Dallas, Texas, visiting my family. I got a positive ovulation on Christmas morning. Brad was sick with a severe cold, so we were positive that it didn't work.
Lo and behold, two weeks later a positive pregnancy test! I felt pregnant. Nausea, dizziness, the stretching-pulling-aching . The first beta was 25. Not terrible. Progesterone was 109!!! HOLY CRAP!!
Having been burned by the last pregnancy, we told no one. Good thing too. The second beta, three days later, was 48. It went downhill fast from there. The pregnancy was gone as fast as it had arrived.
I went into a deep depression. I missed school, I missed work, I withdrew from society. Brad had become sullen. He chose to not dwell on the losses as his means of coping. I envied that capability. I would cry in the shower. I would cry in the car on the way ANYWHERE. I would collapse into a crumpled heap in the bed with the curtains drawn and cry for hours until I was dehydrated and my eyes were swollen shut. I was a wreck.
Once again, my support board helped me back on my feet. These faceless friends from all over the globe talked me back up. The whole stage played out from sorrow to fury to fear and desperation. They were there to tell me it was ok to feel this way. That was all it took.
That was when we were referred to our first RE. She gave us hope, and gave ME a ton of tests. Lots of blood tests, lots of intrusive, humiliating and painful tests... lots of tests. They found nothing but a few trifle "borderline" causes which they treated me for.
In the meantime, I got a job with a company that was primarily composed of highly prolific women. Pregnant bellies EVERYWHERE!!
I got pregnant after we were "released" from our medically-induced conception break. Wow, I thought. This new job is contagious!! Know what happened? I got pregnant in July 2003. We were in Dallas, Texas, visiting my brand new beautiful nephew, Donnie's little boy. We told Donnie and his wife about the pregnancy.
And then lost it right after pregnancy test #3 told us the pregnancy was biological crap. I never made it to beta #1.
That was when two of my internet-support board friends encouraged me to try acupuncture. I started in September of 2003, the month I turned 32.
My Chinese doctor told me to take a break from trying to have a child. My body was worn out and needed a rest. I couldn't have agreed more. She worked me over, healing my asthma, healing my blood circulation, healing the physical damage all the miscarriages had taken on my body. I felt confident.
We started trying again in December 2003.
Then many of my friends became pregnant at once. BAM! Without warning. I hadn't even had so much as a glimmer of a 2nd line on any tests. I knew this was a sign. There was no way my body would support a pregnancy. I was toast.
I went into the deepest, darkest depression I had ever known. I couldn't be happy for anyone's pregnancy as fully as I had in the past. Every ounce of happiness for them was met with two-fold envy and self-loathing. My emotions were a cancer that was feeding on my self-esteem. Crying for no apparent reason became common. Some call this stage "Rock Bottom". Someone I have grown to respect deeply told me it is the stage where you mourn your fertility. She was completely 100% on the money.
What turned me around? Brad.
We went on a much-needed vacation to Sanibel Island, Florida, in March 2004. We had a great time. We drank, we sunburned, we slept... a lot. But one huge turning point occurred that weekend.
While laying on the beach, Brad and I were watching a small family playing frisbee. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the mire that he wanted me out of, but Brad turned to me and said "One more year, if we aren't pregnant, let's look into adoption."
I started thinking and becoming hopeful again.
When we got back home, we had a long talk and I realized what a nightmare I had become. I didn't even like myself anymore, how could anyone else stand me? I hadn't even realized what a dreadful toll my own emotions had taken on my husband. I vowed then and there to feel more positive and not let stress get to me anymore. I vowed to not to take for granted the important things in my life anymore.
I felt good again.
That was when we saw our 2nd opinion RE. She was the glue that helped make firm the vow I'd made. She said everything I needed to hear: there is still hope.
I started being more dedicated to following the advice of my Chinese doctor. I forced myself to not dwell on negativity anymore (that was hard as hell at first.) I made myself laugh again.
Even if it meant cynical humor.
Then someone incredible happened this week. I can't even begin to fathom the possibility that any of it is coincidence.
I know that this pregnancy could end, just like the others did. I know that I could get my hopes up only to have the rug yanked out from under me. I live with this fear every second. But I vow this to my unborn child and to my husband that I will enjoy every single minute of this pregnancy, even if it is short-lived. I feel that I at least owe this to the little cluster of energy that has been trying for so long to grow inside me.
And that brings us up to date. I hope the next chapter can keep this momentum.
