Because I was Grieving . . .

Because I was grieving over the passing of two years of marriage without a living child of our own to raise, it hurt to hear the song Falling For You by Colbie Caillat.

It was one of the songs used in my Jazzercise class the spring of my first two pregnancies. And the feeling it describes is just like what I felt as I was realizing that I was pregnant and that I already loved that baby, and also the nervousness that I wasn't quite certain yet, and, in later pregnancies (after the first one) that it might not last . . .

I don’t know but
I think I maybe
Fallin’ for you
Dropping so quickly
Maybe I should
Keep this to myself
Waiting ’til I
Know you better

I am trying
Not to tell you
But I want to
I’m scared of what you’ll say
So I’m hiding what I’m feeling
But I’m tired of
Holding this inside my head

I’ve been spending all my time
Just thinking about ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’ve been waiting all my life
And now I found ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’m fallin’ for you

Oh I just can’t take it
My heart is racing
The emotions keep spinning out

I’ve been spending all my time
Just thinking about ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’ve been waiting all my life
And now I found ya
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m fallin’ for you
I’m fallin’ for you

I can’t stop thinking about it
I want you all around me
And now I just can’t hide it
I think I’m fallin’ for you

So, yeah, that song really did a number on me this morning. Which would have been fine, only I was on my way to church to teach the children's choir (we had our first performance last week and they did really well!).

Because I was still grieving over that song, I hit the curb trying to park at church and blew out my tire. Which really sucked. I had to go and teach and it was just awful. The kids were antsy. I had no patience. It sucked. Because, I was still grieving. As I was teaching. That was hard.

Then, I had to change the tire, which turned into a huge production when some cub scouts stopped to help. I had wanted to do it myself. Turns out, I got to re-do it myself, because I hadn't maintained my spare, and it needed to be taken back off, driven up to a gas station, filled with air, brought back, put back on, and then I finally got to drive my car to the nearest tire-store that was open on a Sunday, and arrange to have them put on a new tire and re-align the wheels.

The Mister arrived in time to help me get from place to place with the spare. People kept telling me to go get a canister of compressed air, but just taking the tire off and re-filling it seemed simpler to both me and The Mister.

By now, it was 1:30 pm, and we needed lunch, so we went out to eat. That makes twice in a week, after 5 months of not eating out at all (on my part, not The Mister's--he eats out for meals when he's at work). Then I left The Mister to go to acupuncture, and he brought my car home once it was ready.

I got home from acupuncture still feeling overwrought. I always walk or bike to and from acupuncture, because the 2 or 3 times I haven't (including today) I'm always upset when I get home. Getting some exercise after acupuncture is part of the process for me.

Because I was grieving anyway, even taking a walk after I got home didn't make things all better, and I ended up crying and yelling at my husband, and blaming him for something that was really my own fault. I felt awful afterwards, and told him that I had been wrong to blame him, but I am so afraid of how these outbursts of mine chip away at our relationship. I know they are much less frequent now than they were, that my therapy is helping, but I still worry about their long-term effects.

Because I have been grieving all week, what I really wanted was for The Mister to tell me that he also thought we'd have a baby by now, that this isn't how he envisioned our life going either. I told him I needed to hear that, and it seemed very, very hard for him to say it in those words. To tell me that it's hard for him, too. He wanted to say that he knows how hard it is for me, but I needed to hear him say it's hard for him, too. He finally did. And I let it go. Even though I wondered if he was just saying it because I begged him to, and not because it's how he feels.

This is something I very seldom ask of him. Once, he volunteered something about how hard this has been for him. I can remember one other time, besides tonight, when I pressed him about how this all is, emotionally, for him. There might have been another time or two, but the point is, I don't often ask him to mirror my depth of emotion over our infertility, or to talk about it if he does. Mostly, it doesn't bother me that he doesn't talk about how hard this is for him. That's not the way he's wired, and I'm okay with that.

But tonight, because I am grieving over passing our second anniversary without children, and because that milestone is one I don't want to have to grieve alone, I asked him to tell me that it's hard for him, too. I don't expect him to ache over due dates or angelversaries, or even the miscarriages themselves, the way I do, but I do want to know that he feels some pain over the space in our lives where we thought a child would be by now. I want to know that our anniversary is a joint milestone, not a solo one.

I know that he supports me, and that he wants us to find a way to have a child together. I know that for him, the most powerful way he can show how much he cares is through financial support. But once every few months, I want to be reminded that we are in this together in the way that is most meaningful to me--for him to say that it's hard for him, too.

Hope Returning

Thanks everyone for all your support on my last post! It really helped! I am feeling much better and much more hopeful for my own chances of a healthy pregnancy, soon.

Gwyn was very sensitive to how difficult her news might be for me when she told me, even telling me that if I needed to spend less time with her for a while she would understand. I won't go into details, but she has had her own fertility journey and is somewhat of a mentor to me (she already has one living child). So my worries weren't so much about the immediate future, as about the long term, if I don't have an ongoing pregnancy, soon, myself. I know I won't have to worry about conversations suddenly turning pregnancy-only, and that Gwyn really understands what it's like to be happy for someone else and sad for yourself.

In other news, The Mister and I have started talking about names. It feels like a really hopeful thing to be able to talk about names and consider them. In fact, I'm feeling really hopeful, overall. Some of the optimism and hope I felt a year ago, when we were first planning to get pregnant, has returned. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm no longer affected by grief or envy, just that it is now tempered with more hope. I'm allowing myself to feel hopeful, to daydream a little bit, to imagine a baby again. I'm tired of living with my heart closed. It just makes me miserable in the present. So I'm trying to enjoy the present by hoping for the future. (That sounds really strange, but it's the best description I can give.)

I also had my first Mayan Abdominal Massage session yesterday. I went, mainly for some digestive issues, but I know it will help with making sure my reproductive organs are optimally positioned, as well. It felt really good to have someone touch me like that. I used to get massages regularly, but since I've been spending so much money on acupuncture, I stopped. I think this will be really good for me, on a lot of levels.

Oh! and I also wanted to mention that (as many of you probably already know) Blogger went nuts last week and I lost a few comments. I did read them, before they disappeared, but I don't know how to reconstruct them. So if your comments didn't appear to publish or seem to have gotten deleted in the past couple of days, it's because of Blogger. I didn't personally delete anything.

It's Complicated in Here

In my head, I mean. So many things I'm trying to deal with and figure out. I'm suddenly feeling hopeful again. We'll be TTACL again soon and right now I have hope for a full term pregnancy and live birth. That hope makes it a bit easier to bare small children popping up in unexpected places. That and my new mantra. It's a song I learned in my wannabe-a-midwife days. I always thought of it as a labor song, but yesterday, I figured out that it is equally, if not more apropos to struggling through the land of IF.

I am a bold woman
I am such a brave bold woman
Walking right into the dragon's mouth alone (This line makes me think about how much inner strength it takes for me to go into situations where it is likely that I will see parents with their children.)

I am a brave woman
I am such a brave bold woman
Seeking love and beauty I go on my own
I go on my own (For these lines, I think both about how isolating IF/RPL are in general, and also how, by choosing to try RI, I am a accepting new, unproven treatments, and that isolates me as well, but I am still going for it--seeking the love and beauty that a child will *hopefully* bring into my life.)

Seeking love and beauty
On my quest I go
No matter what my happen I know I will grow
Yes I will grow (This verse seems to be about how I will be changed by the experience of IF. I hope it will make me a better person. I will try to let it mold me into a more compassionate and open-minded person. But like it or not, it will change me, and growth and change go hand in hand.)

That got me through some sticky moments yesterday around a woman with two toddlers. It reminded me that coping with infertility and RPL takes courage. And somehow, I didn't feel so resentful towards that particular mother.

But then there is the other side of things. The complications of finding an RPL group, and really liking the other women there, but feeling very inhibited by not being allowed to talk about my treatments because of the policies of the sponsoring hospital. (Gripe, grumble, groan.) The meeting left me questioning Dr. R.'s and Ms. Bird's strong recommendation that immune treatments are my best hope at a healthy pregnancy, since nearly everyone else there attributed their losses to egg quality (whether or not genetic testing had been done). One of the women said that chemical pregnancies are usually chromosomal abnormalities.

Hearing that left me very confused (neither Dr. R. nor Ms. Bird has brought up egg quality), yet I was never able to voice my concern. I tried to bring it up to facilitator after the meeting, and was talked down. She was so busy explaining why she couldn't allow me to bring up immune treatments and trying to convince me that the other types of emotional support offered would make up for that restriction, that she never stopped to really listen to me. More than anything, her inability to listen to or acknowledge my frustration and confusion was what turned me off. It's too bad, because I did really like some of the women there, and I really would like more in-person connection with other RPL-ers, but I'm not sure if it will be worth biting my tongue on the immunology issues.

Also, I am being required to have my kinder music class put on an end of year performance. I'm sure the parents will enjoy it, and I know that the generosity of the parents is a big part of what keeps the music program going, but I don't think the kids are ready. I think the kids would get a lot more out of continuing our regular classes. I'm frustrated, because there isn't much time to rehearse them, and I have not been focusing on perfecting songs up till now, but I don't want the last few classes of the year to be all work and no fun, and I don't want to put a whole bunch of pressure on the kids. Plus, it means I will have to meet the parents. I don't want to socialize with a bunch of parents! Someone will surly ask if I have kids, and then what will I say? "No." "Not yet." "None living." "Three in Heaven." There is no good answer to that question.

Back on the upside, Ms. Bird worked some magic at my last acupuncture session, and I've been feeling much more relaxed. I tend to clench my teeth, and she needled the muscles in my jaw and they let go! I can't remember the last time my jaw was this relaxed. It feels weird, but good, and I'm sure I'm walking around looking half dazed, with my mouth hanging open, just because it feels so good to have a loose jaw.

Also on the upside, I've been getting up early this week and doing my exercise first thing. Mostly by walking The Mister to the bus. He started taking public transit to work because his company badge gets him a free pass and gas prices are through the roof. It's maybe a 10 minute walk to the bus stop, and another 10 back, and it's very early in the morning, when all is still quiet and the sun is barely rising. It gets my day off to a much better start, and I actually have time to get things done in the morning. It also gives us a little more time together, which is nice, since he gets home a lot later when he takes public transit.

So, like I said, it's complicated here in my head. I'm not sure whether I'm on an upswing or a downswing, but I think I'm coping fairly well. It just is so helpful to get it all out here, in a safe place. Even if finding more IRL support is proving more difficult than I had anticipated, I know that I can always come here. You guys are great! You keep me floating and make me smile with your supportive comments. :-)

Searching for the Right Support

For the past few months, I've been looking for additional in-person support. I have one support group I've been attending for over a year. It's a general TTC group--not even IF specific--although most of the other people I've met there have some sort of fertility issue. It's run by a lovely woman who is a good listener and a good facilitator. Discussion usually flows well. However, the group is really small--sometimes it's been just me and the facilitator. It's nice to have the one-on-one attention, but it's not the same as a group meeting. Also, the unofficial focus is on natural methods of dealing with fertility issues, so it's more of a place to discuss acupuncturists and herbs than doctors and treatment protocols. When Dr. R. and Ms. Bird started talking immunology, I started looking for additional support, wanting to find a place where I could voice my skepticism and hear other peoples stories of how they came to terms with using such new treatments.

The first place I tried was a RESOLVE group. It's a large, active group: I think there were 14 people at the meeting I attended. Because of the size of the group, most of the time was spent in each person telling their story, and there was literally no time left for general discussion at the end. I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the group, and even more overwhelmed listening to story after story of conception challenges, 3rd party reproduction, IVF, etc. I felt very out of place. Even though there were several people there dealing with immune issues and/or loss on top if IF, the lack of other points of similarity made me uncomfortable. I haven't been back, but I may give it another chance at some point.

Then I found out about a RPL specific group. This sounded perfect, and the first meeting just about was. I felt really comfortable, I liked the facilitator, and the group was small enough to really allow for some good discussion. Unfortunately, my second experience was not as positive. At my first meeting, I had been able to talk about the immune treatments I was considering, and felt supported in moving forward with them. However, at my second meeting, when I was telling my story, the facilitator stopped me from describing my immune treatments. No one else even mentioned immune treatments, and I got the feeling that they were a taboo subject. I confirmed this with the facilitator afterwards. She tried to convince me to keep coming for the other aspects of "emotional support", but I hadn't gotten any emotional support. I had given support to others, but the only thing I came there needing support on was the challenges I have had in making the decision to go ahead with immune treatments, even though they are very, very new. And I wasn't allowed to talk about that.

So that leaves me stuck. I can talk about my immune treatments in group one, but since no-one else is doing them, it's just talking. In group two, I feel intimidated by the size of the group and the gulf between conception treatments and RPL treatments seems almost too wide to bridge. In group three, there is the commonality of RPL, but I'm not allowed to talk about the one thing that sent me seeking additional support. So I'm left feeling very discouraged. :-(

Sometimes it seems to me that, either you embrace reproductive immunology wholeheartedly and believe staunchly that it is the be all and end all of infertility/miscarriage treatments, or you are skeptical and decide not to do the treatments. I am skeptical, but willing to try it. Is there anyone else out there in the middle-ground camp with me?

Bouncing Back

Thanks for the support yesterday. I am doing much better today. I feel bad about complaining about The Mister. He really is moving forward on getting this test run quite quickly. I was just in one of those moods where I suddenly wanted it done *yesterday*!

Part of what sent me into a tailspin were several, seemingly unrelated things I've been reading on various blogs. Several people are in the process of making (or have recently made) the switch from pursuing treatments to pursuing adoption. While I am happy for all of them, reading about their choices reminds me that I may be making that decision for myself someday soon. As I said in my Dollars and $ense post, I don't know what my tipping point will be, but I am certain that I will recognize it when it comes.

At the same time, the first of the pregnant bloggers I've been following just gave birth to her daughter. Reading her birth story has reminded me of just exactly why I want so very much to experience pregnancy and birth at least once.

I also received a very concrete reminder that my MTHFR mutation will put me at increased risk for preeclamsia, prematurity, and stillbirth, all three. I know that this doesn't happen to everyone with MTHFR, but I had managed to keep the "increased risk" statistic as a statistic in my head. One that I was willing to live with. Now, it is suddenly much more concrete . . . My baby could die. I could get really sick. There is no way to predict if that will happen to me or not, but I am at increased risk.

Add these things to my realization that if The Mister has issues with his sperm, it will take at least 90 days for any improvement to occur, and the fact that at this time last year I was pregnant with Astin, and, well, I spiraled into a freak out. The Mister being in a bad mood because of his own stuff just made it that much harder to cope. Things are much better today. The Mister managed to fix the thing that he was freaking out about, and I got a good night's sleep. My music lesson went well and I had a nice walk & talk with Gwyn. Now that everything else has calmed down, I'm able to face the possibility of waiting longer to TTCAL again with more equanimity.

Why I've Been so Quiet

I haven't been blogging much about what's been going on in my life lately, because it's been really hard to find the words. How do you say, on a blog about grief and loss, that life is, well, wonderful? Really, truly, I don't believe I have ever felt better in my life. Even the "bad" days I have had in the past week have been nowhere near the depths of despair and depression I was experiencing a couple of weeks ago. Things are truly fabulous! But how can I say that, without sounding annoying and insincere?

The thing is, I have been living with the weight of my childhood trauma pressing on me for as long as I can remember. A week ago, a couple days after I had an especially intense EMDR session in therapy, that weight lifted. I feel free. I can handle the stress of dealing with RPL now, because I am no longer looking at in through the eyes of a traumatized child. I am finally have a normal ability to cope with stress. It doesn't make the stress go away, but the painful filter of the past is gone, which makes facing the future much easier.

So this is where I am right now. Many things have gone right in the past week. I sold some things that have been taking up physical and emotional space in my life for several years. Ms. Bird had to cancel an appointment and I didn't even miss it. I took my ear balls out a week ago, and I haven't missed them, either. (To put that in perspective, I've been wearing ear balls almost constantly since Christmas, and if I did have them out for more than a few hours, I was a wreck.)

On Friday, I called up a friend, a woman I used to work for, to get back in touch. I really hope that we will be able to get together soon, but even if we don't, just talking to her make a big difference. I knew I would be able to tell her my story. I don't think she'd told me hers before, but there were hints that were easy enough to piece together from hindsight. Turns out we do have a lot in common in our reproductive stories. Just hearing her story and sharing mine helped so much.

If the real-life pregnancies are more difficult, the real-life support is equally potent. Even with someone like this friend, someone who is a talker, and not the type to sit down and just listen and cry with you, there was still the feeling of underlying support. It was tangible.

One thing she said really made an impression on me. It was something like, "Don't close yourself off from testing." At the time, she was referring to prenatal screening, but hearing her say that jarred me into the realization that it will be worth getting the immune tests run. The information I gain from them will be valuable. I wanted to be sure I actually wanted the information before I went in for the blood draw, because too much information can be a bad thing. Now, I feel confident that getting the tests run is the right decision. I'm ready to handle whatever information they may yield. (That's another huge shift from how I was feeling just a couple of weeks ago.)

Thanks again to everyone who has shared your stories with me about immune testing, treatment, and related decision-making! It helped me to put my own choices and decisions into perspective.

Why Does it Hurt So Much More IRL?

It doesn't make logical sense, but finding out about my cousin's wife's pregnancy, has sent me into a terrible tailspin. I don't know this couple well, and they live half-way across the country. It's not like I'll run into them. Someone intelligent sent out the shower invites. I didn't get one, and I'm glad about that. It means no one expected me to travel 2000 miles just for a party. This side of my family doesn't even do reunions regularly, so the chance of seeing this baby at a family event in the near future is slim to none. There is *no reason* this should impact me so much more than a pregnancy announcement on a blog I read, but it does. It put me into a tailspin, and I don't know how to clime back out.

Is it because I don't know her history? Is it because she's "family" and therefore this pregnancy will impact my real life a little more? I didn't expect to be this upset over it, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised. It is the first pregnancy announcement in my extended family since my miscarriages. Oddly enough, it's not even the one I've been dreading and half expecting. Still, it really hurts. Why? Is it because I liked this woman, and now my feelings about her will always be tinged with envy?

I talked to Dr. Black today about how I've been feeling. She reassured me that everything I described was normal, and helped me work through some of the pain. She also warned me not to expect these feelings to just go away. She's very insistent that grief takes time and all she can do is help me cope a little better in the moment. The techniques she's taught me do help, and I am coping better than I was a few months ago (and also better than at 6 weeks past my second loss), but I just wish there was a way to actually eliminate the pain. It hurts so much.

The Elephant in the Weekend

I had a really busy (for me) 3 days this past weekend, starting Friday. By Sunday I was exhausted, and I realized, it was because there had been an elephant in the room, the entire time. Avoiding the elephant that is the pain of dealing with RPL takes a lot of energy. Even when I tell people there's an elephant there, they often act like they see a mouse, instead. Some people are scared of the mouse. Some people think it's no big deal and mostly ignore it. Some people try to trap the mouse and take it outside. Very few people recognize that it's a giant elephant, sitting between us, during every conversation we have. This elephant follows me around and gets between me and every pregnant woman or parent of a baby or toddler that I run into. Sometimes I want to shout at the world, saying:

Don't you see the elephant? Can't you walk around it? Will you please stop bumping my elephant and making him mad so I have to calm him down?

I have to live with this elephant every minute of every day. I don't forget about him. I wish I could talk about him more. I wish I could find a way to wear him on my sleeve. A few people seem to understand what I need--they ofter genuine support and a listening ear. Others don't know what to do, but are willing to learn. Most people think they are being sympathetic and helpful when they offer their own stories, or tell me to keep on going and keep a positive attitude. I try to appreciate the underlying concern and not be too picky, but I don't lean on these people when I'm having a bad day. Luckily, I have a few IRL friends and family members I *can* turn to on bad days, as well as all of you. :-)

Other than that big elephant, the things I was busy with were good things. I got positive feedback on my music teaching from the Docent Program Manager, Kim. She actually thought I was doing well enough that another new docent might benefit from observing me! I wasn't expecting that, but I'm willing to have this other docent come in, if she wants to. Kim knows about my miscarriages, and is supportive of my taking a break from docenting in early pregnancy if I need to, which is really good.

I participated in a spring review for the Sunday School teachers at my church. We went over this past year and made plans for next year. I volunteered to teach again next year. I've enjoyed being involved with these children so much, and regardless of how things go, I want to continue teaching. The Sunday School Director, Reba, also knows about my situation and, like Kim, understands that I may need to take some time off in early pregnancy.

I also assisted in my Sunday School classroom this week. It was fine, but after class I had to take the kids back to the front of the church, and there was a mom with a 3 or 4 month old baby there. That was an unexpected shock, but I dealt with it the best I could at the time, and cried as soon as I could find some privacy.

So that was my weekend, how was yours?

What's Been Helping

The past 5 days my mood has been on the upswing. It feels like a nearly 180* shift. It's been wonderful. Of course, there have still been rough patches, but I've been very good about acknowledging them and using the new techniques and resources that Dr. Black has taught me. In fact, I've been consciously giving myself opportunities to feel sad for short periods of time on a daily basis, to make sure things don't get stuck. But I started doing that shortly after my third loss, so it's not exactly something new this week.

There are several other things I could credit with the change, however.

1. Acupuncture. This is where I've been inclined to give most of the credit. I had a fairly detailed discussion with Ms. Bird about where I was at, emotionally, before she needled me on Monday. She was telling me about what she felt in my pulses, and when she described my heart pulse she said, "It feels like your heart is trying to be here, but really isn't." It was a perfect description of how I had been feeling for the previous four weeks. I was trying very hard to be in the present, but I wasn't. I couldn't envision the immediate future, at all. So, Ms. Bird did a bunch of points, including some for grief, and since Monday, I've been feeling hopeful again. I can actually think about the fact that we are going to be TTC again as soon as we have the result on all the tests we're having done. That could be as soon as next cycle. And I'm excited about it. I've even been thinking about the possibility that, with immune treatment, I might even stay pregnant. This shift in mental perspective is wonderful, and it feels really good. This path is so much easier to walk with some hope than with only fear.
2. NAC. N-Acetyl-L-Cystine. A supplement that is supposed to help with a broad spectrum of PCOS related issues. I have a theory that, by balancing my hormones, it just might be boosting my mood. No proof, of course, and I haven't had the time to research it, but it is certainly a possibility . . .
3. Exercise. I may have mentioned that Dr. R. told me to get more exercise--a minimum of 30 min 5x/wk. With the flu and other things, I have been a bit lazy, but this week I decided I needed to make exercise a daily priority. If I'm planning to do it daily, than an occasional miss will still leave me with at least 5 days of exercise every week. So I've started getting up a bit earlier and doing about half an hour of something every morning. Some mornings I do yoga, others I walk, but in any case, I am getting significantly more exercise than I was a week or two ago, and I know that it is helping my mood. I can definitely feel it having a good effect.
4. Emotional Support. This is not exactly something new, but it is certainly a big player in my improved mood. I talked to someone who is a sort of "fertility mentor" to me earlier in the week. She runs a support group that I missed this month because of being sick (one of the reasons I tried the other group I mentioned in this post). When I e-mailed her that I wouldn't make it, but had gone through another loss, she offered to be available to talk on the phone before the next meeting, and I took her up on that. It made a really big difference. I also had a nice chat with a local friend who has experienced some fertility issues. And of course, since it's ICLW, I've had lots of support here on my blog. You all really helped hold me up this week. :-)

So the long and the short is that things are very good right now. I am also very busy, and hope to post about some of the things I've been up to, soon, just as soon as I have enough of a break from them to get at my computer again!

Pregnancy Envy

I'll admit, I feel it. Even with fellow IF/RPL-ers I feel it. The initial announcement can be such a sucker-punch. Somehow, even when someone is cycling and posting regular updates, I never quite expect the gut-wrenching level of my initial reaction, when she gets a positive.

Of course, I'm happy for her. I know that it is good news. Most of the bloggers I follow have had a loss or two (or more), so their pregnancies give me hope. Still, it hurts. Even on cycles when we're not trying, because we're waiting to get everything in place, it hurts. Marie blogged about this recently. How, even when you're not trying, and there is zero chance of getting pregnant because you're actively preventing, it can still sting to see another BFP announcement from someone who is trying. I sometimes envy the fact that some people get to try every month, while I have to wait and plan.

Here's the thing, though. I may feel a flash of jealousy at first. I may feel a sting, or even a gut wrench that someone else is pregnant and I'm not, but it doesn't last. At least not with the ladies who have been through previous losses. Because, following on the heals of the BFP comes the anxiety. The watchfulness of milestone after milestone. The small sighs of relief followed by new anxieties and worries.

It's not that I want them to feel that pain. I wish we could all go back to the happy, naive state of first-time-pregnant-never-had-anything-go-wrong-so-there's-no-chance-it-will-happen-to-me magical thinking. (Actually, it's not magical for most people--for most people it's just true--but that's a rant for another day.) I would take away all the hurt of pregnancy after loss if I could. It's just that it is easier to go on supporting my on-line friends who get pregnant after loss, because they aren't smug and confident. They're dealing with a level of anxiety that I wouldn't wish on anyone, and I genuinely want to help them get through it.

As time goes on, posts become more and more pregnancy oriented, but I don't mind. I begin to enjoy following their stories. I have, occasionally, stopped following a blog when someone got pregnant, but usually it was a blog that I only just found. If I'm invested in the blogger, if I've been following her story for several months, then watching her pregnancy is also less painful. Because I know how hard she struggled to get here. So I go on reading. I learn about what I have to look forward to. I make mental notes about what helps others when anxiety strikes.

I take every continuing pregnancy as a sign of hope that, if she can carry a pregnancy after loss, I can, too. Someday, it will be my turn, and I hope my readers will continue to follow and support me when it is. And I hope that, no matter how happy I may be for my own success, I will always remember to look back and offer support to my friends who are still in the trenches. I hope I will be able to break the news with sensitivity. And I hope that, in sharing my story, I will be able bring hope to others.

Support, Isolation, and Gratitude

I am afraid that my last post may have sounded ungrateful towards my longtime followers, since many of them have very different stories from mine and from each other.

The truth is, most of the time, I love the fact that in the ALI community, we can all support each other in our family building efforts, regardless of whether our stories have *any* point of continuity other than the desire for a child. I love the fact that the ALI community is a welcoming place, and that no one is shut out for being "different".

Still, I have moments, and days, where the fact that my story is unique to me, and that no one, not even another woman going through RPL, can truly know my exact experience, feels very isolating. That is where I was yesterday. I had gone to a support group over the weekend in hopes of finding some IRL community. Instead I found that I was the odd one out--the only one not having some trouble conceiving. Most people's focus was on treatment for the conception issue, even though some had experiences losses, and I left feeling more alone than before.

I feel much better today. My acupuncture treatment yesterday, along with some Flower Essence, exercise and fresh air, and all the supportive comments I received, made a big difference.

Thank you to everyone who found my post yesterday and reminded me that I am not alone, that my story is not as unique as it sometimes feels. And thanks so much to my readers who have offered support, even when our stories are nearly entirely different. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your ability to look beyond the details and see our common pain. I try to do the same for you. I have met some amazing women here, and even though I haven't personally experienced the specific frustrations of a medicated or IVF cycle or of the adoption process, I am humbled to have the opportunity to learn by watching your journeys, and to offer support where I can.

ICLW and a Pity Party

First, if your visiting for ICLW, welcome!

Unfortunately, you caught me in a downswing. I'm currently recovering from my third miscarriage and the flu. I'm physically and emotionally really down right now (for more on that, check below the fold). You can read my story and learn more about my journey in the tabs above.

Who am I outside of RPL?

• Wife to a wonderful man, The Mister, who can usually make me laugh in spite of myself, no matter how angry or sad I may be. :-)
• Volunteer Music Docent at a local public school--I teach one 30 minute lesson per week to a class of 20 Kinders.
• Volunteer Sunday School Teacher at my church--I teach as part of a team of five, so each of us prepares a lesson about once a month, and acts as an assistant at least once a month.
• Volunteer Community Gardener--I'm in the process of exploring a new garden to work at where there *hopefully* will be less likelihood of running into parents of preschoolers. My previous garden had become a hive of the moms-of-under-fives set.
• Craft Artist--I love doing handwork, although I don't have any current projects going. See my Projects Page for pics of some of my creations over the past year.
• Cook--I actually spend 20+ hrs/wk in the kitchen, making most of my/our food from scratch. The Mister generally eats out at work, but we eat at home together most evenings and on the weekends.

There, I don't think any of that is "identifying". ;-) But since I blog anonymously (Hope isn't my *real* name) I'm not going to tell you where I live or how many siblings I have, or anything like that. Sorry. :-)

An Open Letter to Family and Friends

I have been considering writing something like this since, well, right after my second miscarriage. However, since the few people IRL I have told about my losses have primarily been supportive, I didn't have much motivation to sit down and write it. That is, until yesterday, when one of the few people I keep in touch with from collage let me down. This friend is the sweetest person, and I'm sure she had no intention of hurting me--she probably just didn't know what to say. So she said nothing. I told her in an e-mail about my latest loss, and when she replied, she didn't even mention it. I was surprised by how much it stung. So, I finally sat down and wrote the following letter:

Dear Friends and Family,

I've really appreciated you're support over the past months, as I've dealt with the painful emotions and choices that have surrounded my miscarriages. However, I've noticed that, when I bring up the subject, people are often at a loss for words. I am aware that miscarriage tends to be a taboo subject and that people often feel uncomfortable hearing about it. In spite of this, I really need to talk about my miscarriages, so I would like to offer some suggestions of things you could say or do that would feel most supportive to me.

First, when I mention my miscarriages, or say that I am having a rough time, please acknowledge what I've told you. If we are corresponding by e-mail or playing phone tag, please include this acknowledgment in your next message to me. This would really mean a lot to me. If you don't know what to say, any of the following will work:

“I'm so sorry you're having to go through this.”

“I'm so sorry to hear about your latest loss.”

“I'm so sorry things are so rough for you right now.”

Other Ideas of what to say Adapted From Miscarriage Support Auckland

• "I know how much you wanted that baby." Here you are simply acknowledging that something precious has been lost, and opening a door to talk more.
• "It's okay to cry." It's reassuring to know I'm not being judged for my tears and sadness.
• "Can I call you back next week to see how you are doing?" Often people are sympathetic the first time, then never mention miscarriage again. I expect to continue grieving for weeks or months, so it is reassuring for me to know your support is ongoing.
• "I was wondering how you are feeling about your miscarriages now." I appreciate the opportunity to talk about my miscarriages, even months later. I expect that I will still want to talk about them after a successful pregnancy as well. Parents do not forget a miscarriage.
• "I don't really know what to say." The good thing about this is that it is honest. The fact that you are available to listen is what's really important.
• "It must be so hard for you to have another miscarriage when you were doing so much to prevent one." This acknowledges all the work and effort I have been putting into finding out why my miscarriages happened and treating those causes.

If you can be available by phone, you could offer to call me or invite me to call you. Let me know what times work for you, and if you can't talk when I call, get back to me as soon as possible with an alternate time. If you have very limited availability, please be up front about that.

If I do call you, mostly listen. However, I would really appreciate it if you would please mention or ask about my losses sometimes so I don't have to always be the one to broach the subject. One way to do this is to ask, “How are you coping (these days)?” That lets me know that you are interested in hearing about my emotions surrounding my miscarriages, and not just the superficial details of my life.

If you can't be available by phone, cards or e-cards, expressing sentiments like the ones above, would be very welcome. Also, it would help if you continue to let me know that you are thinking of me and remembering my babies with me as time goes on, especially around holidays. I expect Mother's Day to be particularly difficult for me and would really appreciate a Mother's Day card or e-card from you acknowledging that I am a mother and remembering the babies I've lost.

Finally, The Mister and I are doing quite a bit in the way of testing and treatment to try to prevent subsequent losses. The nature of these tests and treatments is very personal, so I would prefer not to be asked about them. Receiving test results and deciding on treatment options can be stressful and emotional, and I may want to talk about how I *feel* about these issues without giving the more private details. I know that sometimes this may leave you feeling a little lost as you listen to me. I would appreciate it if you could gently let me know that you want to understand better, if I am open to providing more details. Sometimes I will be happy to explain a particular diagnosis or treatment option, but at other times I may want to keep things vague. I'd appreciate your understanding and flexibility at times when I need to talk about my feelings but the medical details are too private to share.

Thanks! I really appreciate your support and willingness to be there for me at this difficult time in my life. I don't want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells, but I also want you to feel confident that you have the tools you need to express your sincere desire to support me.

Love,

Hope

Coping: Early Days after Loss

So far, I think I'm coping a little better with this loss than my previous two. Part of that is having a support system already in place. I have you, my wonderful readers, who surrounded me in the initial days of anxiety and disappointment. I have a few IRL friends I can talk to about my losses. One special friend has also had an early loss, and we have a lot of other things in common, too. She's been really good about making sure I know she's there for me this week. I also have Ms. Bird, Dr. Black, and Dr. R. I have some e-mail groups I participate in. And of course I have The Mister--I don't know what I'd do without him. He is my rock.

But another big part of why I'm coping better is that I didn't allow myself to think very far ahead while I was pregnant. I focused on the present during that time. While I didn't try to think my symptoms away (at least not after a certain point) I also didn't let myself go very far down the road of imagining the future. I didn't ever let myself spend more than a minute or two thinking about when I'd be due. I didn't picture myself with a big belly, and certainly not with a live baby. So while I am sad that Poppy didn't make it, I don't have nearly as many broken dreams to grieve over as I did with Ember.

When I was pregnant with Ember, I really let myself believe I was going to have a baby. I didn't even do that so much with Astin. That is probably part of the reason why Ember's loss has continued to be so hard for me. With Poppy, I was almost completely focused on the present, on doing what I could, in that moment, to enjoy her presence and sustain the pregnancy. When the symptoms started to diminish, I did spend some time thinking, "NO! This cannot be happening! Not again! What about all the things that were different this time?" and then a bit of, "Why? Why did this have to happen again? I thought we'd fixed those problems!" but it didn't last. Within a day of losing the symptoms I was able to acknowledge that I was losing the pregnancy.

Of course I am disappointed. It would have been wonderful if staying pregnant could have been that easy. Now I have to face doing a lot more testing and finding answers to a lot of questions, some of which probably don't have answers. But the thing is, I can face that. I've assembled my team. I've gotten my head around the idea that I will need help to stay pregnant. I'm ready to start moving forward.

After Ember's loss, I went through months of paralyzing fear and indecision. I was genuinely unwilling to seek expert help for the first four or five months. I think that indecision, fulled by the fear of what I might have to do to stay pregnant, made my grieving a lot worse. I wasn't just grieving the loss of my second pregnancy, I was also grieving the loss of a lot of choices in prenatal care that I had always expected to have. Over that past 9 months, I have worked really hard to shift my perspective on medical care during pregnancy. I have found good care providers whom I trust, created a good emotional support network, and gained a lot more knowledge. Those are the tools I need to move forward with trying again. Knowing I can start moving forward right away is a very empowering feeling. So, while I'm not trying to ignore or cover up my grief, I'm also not going to let myself get stuck in it. I'm going to keep on keeping on. And that makes it much easier to cope, even when I'm feeling sad.

Unexpected Limbo

I've been going back and forth for the past couple of days about whether to post this or not. On the one hand, some of my readers (who would love to have an unexpected pregnancy) may feel pinched reading this, but on the other hand, I'm really scared and need some support. I had hoped to give my next pregnancy the benefit of beginning treatment at ovulation, but that didn't work out. In fact, it took me three days of feeling funny to realize what was going on. At first, I thought I was just under the weather and I'm honestly grateful for that. It means three less days of anxiety. At the same time, I wish I'd been more alert because it also means I started my pregnancy meds three days later.

Now I'm in the very difficult position of trying to deal with two conflicting realities. The first reality is that I am probably pregnant, at least for the moment. Now that I'm aware of it, I need to do everything I can to support this pregnancy, including taking some very unpleasant medications and getting lots of rest. I'll cheerfully submit to any discomfort to protect my baby, as I reminded myself last night after I shot myself up with enox.aparin (generic Love.nox) for the first time. (It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. It did sting like crazy at first, but that was gone in five minutes and I don't even have a bruise this morning, just a little red mark.)

The problem with reminding myself that the meds are for the baby is the second reality--I'm pregnant after loss. Because of my miscarriages, part of me wants to pull away, not let myself go there, not believe in this pregnancy just yet. I need to protect myself emotionally, just in case I have another miscarriage. Trying to both protect the baby's health and protect my heart creates a lot of internal pressure. Lawyer Mama described it really well in her Creme de la Creme post, here.

When I sense myself panicking, I try to remember that this pregnancy already has a much better chance than my previous two pregnancies, because of all the changes I've made since last May, and especially the things I've done over the past 2-3 months. I'm sure the progesterone and enox.aparin I just started are helping, too. I also try to keep myself busy and distracted as much of the time as I can, but my mind is like a hamster running on a wheel: it keeps coming back to pregnancy. If I stay pregnant, this will be my life for the foreseeable future. If not, immeasurable grief and pain await me. Neither choice is actually very appealing, but at least one has the hope of a reward at the end of it all . . . The worst of it is, it's out of my hands. I don't even get to decide.

To any of my readers who need to give yourselves space from pregnant people, I want you to know that I understand. It's okay if you don't have much to say or if you need to stop reading for a while. I understand about self-preservation. Do what you have to do, with my blessing. (I do hope I don't end up being annoying-pregnant, though. ;-)

To my other readers, especially if you're a lurker, I could really use some extra support right now. Please send calm thoughts and sticky baby vibes. TIA!

Jan 2011 ICLW

Hi! Welcome ICLWers!

I'm an alternative-minded homemaker who always planned to be a stay-at-home mom. Last spring, my plans were derailed by two very early miscarriages which eventually resulted in the discovery that I have insulin resistance and two copies of a mutation called MTHFR both of which can cause multiple pregnancy complications.

(For a discussion of how insulin resistance affects pregnancy, please visit this page (I'm not endorsing the PCOS program these people promote, they just had the best description of the effects of insulin resistance on pregnancy that I could find). For an explanation of how MTHFR affects pregnancy, please read this post. And no, it doesn't stand for mother f-er, it just looks like that.) ;-)

When I'm not on-line blogging about RPL, grief, and trying again, I cook, volunteer in the educational garden at a community farm, knit, listen to music and audio books, and teach music to kindergardeners.

For a narrative-style re-cap of our history, check out this page. A brief re-cap follows below:

Fall 2007:  The Mister and I meet and start dating.
Fall 2009:  Wedding Bells!
Spring 2010:  Throw out B/C
April 2010:  Suspect pregnancy, but miscarry before getting a BFP
May 2010:  Suspect pregnancy again, and again miscarry before getting a BFP
Summer 2010:  Take 3 months off to recover physically and emoitionally
Sept 2010:  Realize I want to find out what went wrong and do something about it before trying again.
Oct-Nov 2010:  Meet with various western and alternative fertility specialists, choose an RE (Dr. R) and acupuncturist (Ms. Bird)
Nov 2010:  Western diagnosis: insulin resistance/polycystic ovaries and  MTHFR C677T homo. Begin meds. Also begin additional supplements to correct low iron and vit. D levels.
Dec 2010:  Chinese diagnosis: Blood Deficiency, begin herbs to build blood, begin to think about trying again.
Experience serious emotional upheaval as a result of strain from trying to make decisions based on limited information. Begin seeing a therapist (Dr. Black).
Jan 2011:  Decide to wait to try again until blood deficiency improved. This means waiting at least one more cycle after the current cycle. Earliest possible TTC date: March 2011
 

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

AFM: I'm coping pretty well these days. Things aren't easy, but I am at least semi-functional. I am, however, really feeling the lack of my babies this month, with a would-have-been due date at both ends of it and no new pregnancy on the immediate horizon. However, other things in my life are going quite well. I had a good time in the garden where I volunteer this week, therapy and acupuncture continue to be helpful, and I am looking forward to teaching my first full-length (only thirty minutes ;-) Kindergarten music lesson at 1:30 pm today--I've even confirmed that the new sub knows I'm coming!

And a final request: please stop by Rain's Blog and send her some love--she's going through a difficult transition right now.

Aching, Empty Arms

Today was going to be a good day. But it all went south. I had a stomach upset in the morning that started things off on the wrong foot. Then, I was supposed to see one of my IRL miscarriage friends in the afternoon, but she had to cancel, because her daughter has a cold. We got to chat on the phone, but it's just not the same. I was so disappointed, and after we got off the phone I was just aching inside, feeling so lonely. It took me a while to process it, and figure out what I wanted.

What I wanted (and still want) is a baby to hold. I haven't had much empty-arms syndrome before now, but, maybe it's hitting me now because this is the time of year when Astin or Ember would have been due. If Astin hadn't died, he would be born by now, or if Ember had lived, she would be getting ready to be born. (Plus, tomorrow will be the 8 month anniversary of Ember's death.)  This longing to hold a baby is not specific. I think I would be comforted even by holding someone else's baby, but I don't know anyone IRL with a new baby right now.

So I created a substitute baby. I got out my baby doll (the one I dreamed about in this post) and my Moby Wrap (from when I was a nanny) and wore my doll around the house. It felt really comforting. The doll is made of wool and she warms up to body temperature, so she feels almost real, although much lighter than a live baby. I don't think I'm cracking. I know the difference between my doll and a live baby, but holding her has been a comfort today, a way to sooth myself.

Breaking the Silence?

I've been going through the Creme de la Creme really slowly, so I decided to go at it from both ends. I figure, if I read at least one post from the top and the bottom of the list each day, eventually I'll meet myself in the middle somewhere. ;-) Yesterday, I read this post and all the links in it, and it hasn't let go of me. One thing that really struck me was from an article that, apparently, was big news in the ALI community back in 2009, before my initiation by RPL. One theme of the article was that women in the waiting rooms at fertility clinics don't talk to each other. They don't even make eye contact. Cancer patients swap stories and tips, but IF patients isolate themselves. I wonder why we do this. I certainly do it.

Today, at my acupuncture appointment, I was leaving as another woman was arriving. I wanted to say "Hi" and start a conversation, but she wouldn't meet my eye. So I stayed silent. Maybe I can ask my acupuncturists about connecting with some of her other patients. She specializes in fertility, so it would be safe to assume that many of her patients would have stories in common. If we connected with each other, maybe we would find support. Don't get me wrong, I love the support I get from all of you who read my blog, but I still long to feel less isolated in my day to day life, and meeting more women IRL struggling with IF/RPL could help with that. Yet I hesitated to reach out to that woman today, because she seemed uncomfortable and I didn't want to make her more uncomfortable.

Maybe the silence begins when we feel we can't talk to our family or friends, because they wouldn't understand or have made insensitive comments. We begin to put develop a persona that says, "Don't mess with me. I'm not available." Then when we are in a place like a fertility clinic waiting room, where it might be safe to open up and talk to others, we are in the habit of behaving in a closed way. Plus, if everyone else is acting closed, then each person sees no encouragement, and no one wants to make herself vulnerable by trying to start a conversation.

I don't know. What do you all think?

Ear Balls Rock

Thanks everyone for your support yesterday. I really appreciated it. I'm feeling much better. I did ask Ms. Bird if I could get new ear balls sooner, and she fit me in yesterday. They made an immediate difference. It was night and day and almost instant.

I also saw Dr. Black yesterday and we worked on my anger issues. She really helps me to see myself more clearly. Now I'm off to spend time with one of my IRL miscarriage friends. :-) Hope everyone is having a lovely day.

Letting People In (Edited)

(Edited because on second read-through, this came across too defensive/aggressive. My intent was not to attack or criticize, but more to express and explain my own point of view and motivation in my choices regarding sharing my story.)

I've been thinking a lot lately about letting more people in on what is going on in my life with regards to my miscarriages. I'm not sure when it started, but it the feeling has grown, gradually, over the past few weeks. There are a couple particular people I have in mind, that I want to share my experiences with, but I also have a general feeling of just wanting to be more public about my miscarriages.

Still, I am not quite ready to go completely public. I want to be cautious, since I have had a history of sharing too much and then regretting it later. You can't ever un-tell a person, once they know, and sometimes it turns out to be a problem, if it's a person you can't simply cut off contact with.

Once a Mother (who wrote the post I referenced here) left a comment I'd like to address:

Thanks for your kind comment on my post, and for introducing me to your blog. I suffered a miscarriage before losing my daughter and then went on to suffer secondary infertility and needed IVF to achieve this pregnancy. The reason I am telling you this is that each of these are topics that can be considered taboo to talk about, or bring uncomfortable comments from others, and to that I say tough. If I inhibit what I share for the sake of others, or the fear of what they are going to say, it will eat me up inside. None of the losses we experience in this ALI world are by choice, and we shouldn't have to feel as if they are our burden to bear silently. I say share your story. You never know, the woman sitting next to you listening, may too really need that outlet, and a beautiful connection may be made. As far as people's rude comments, I always say if you can't stand with me in sorrow, i don't want you there with me in joy.

I really appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me, Once a Mother and I agree that the more people in the ALI community share their stories, the more we will life the taboo on these subjects. When a bereaved mother wants to talk about her losses I think she should be able to talk about them. I applaud you for knowing that she would prefer to share her story, even if it makes other uncomfortable, and I appreciate your encouraging me to do the same. However, in general, I don't think I "inhibit" myself, or stop myself from sharing my story when I really want to, neither for the sake of others nor out of fear of being hurt. It is true that I am quite selective; I consciously choose with whom to share, and under what circumstances. I take my time, consider the relationship I have with the other person, and weigh the risks of offending/receiving painful comments against the benefits of potentially deepening our relationship, before I tell my story. Sometimes, people surprise me. Often, I have a good measure of the other person, and the response I get is in line with what I expected.

I agree that the losses people in the ALI world experience aren't chosen--no one would chose this pain. However, everyone responds to pain differently. Some people feel caged, or inhibited, if they don't share their story. Others prefer to keep their pain close, because it is so personal, sharing it may feel to intimate for many situations. I think that going through IF/PAIL puts people into a closet, and we all have to choose if, when, and how to out ourselves. That is each person's choice to make. My choice is to out myself slowly and carefully over time. Someone else may never speak of her/his struggles. Another person may tell everyone she/he comes in contact with. Some people have less choice about outing themselves--a late-term loss, stillbirth, or infant death can't easily be hidden from the people who knew about the pregnancy/baby. But even these people may try to chose how and when to share their news.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that we need to respect each-other's choices when it comes to how much each person in the ALI community shares of her/his story, when and with whom. We need to support each individual to make her/his own decisions about what level of sharing is best for her/him. What I see as caution and self-preservation may look to another person like fear or inhibition. It's a matter of personal preference, and it is hard to really understand the motivation behind another person's choices looking in from the outside. I respect and understand that many people choose to share their losses much more openly than I have chosen to share mine. I only ask that in return I be given the respect, space, and freedom to share my story on my own timetable.

For example: today I decided to share my story with someone new. This is someone I see on a regular basis, but don't know extremely well. I consider her an acquaintance. I do, however, know that she has two children, and that her pregnancies were relatively uneventful. For that reason, I thought she would have difficulty understanding, and since she likes to teach and give advice, I thought there was a pretty high chance she would say something patronizing. So all these months, I have avoided telling her anything. She didn't need to know, and I didn't feel a need to tell. Until today. Today, I found myself wanting very much to tell her. To out myself. To give her a chance.

At first, it was just as I expected. Tired, clichéd, patronization. After a few minutes of this, back and forth, with me trying to explain why I didn't agree with the whole "It was for the best" sentiment she was expressing, I finally asked if she'd ever had a miscarriage. No, she hadn't, but her sister had gone through IF/loss, and she had watched that pain. She admitted that she couldn't understand my pain, but I also began to see that she had a good deal of compassion for it. Her heart was in the right place. In fact, within minutes of my asking that one question, she was telling me that she is going to be a surrogate mother. She is well into the process of selecting and being matched with a family, and has started preparing her body for pregnancy. The fact that she chose to become a surrogate out of a desire to help people who otherwise couldn't have children touched me deeply. When she shared that with me, I felt such appreciation for her, that it took most of the sting out of her previous well meant, but naive comments.

So, in the end, I'm glad I shared my story with her, and it did deepen our relationship, but it wore me out, emotionally. I think it will be at least a few weeks before I begin to feel the itch to share with someone new again. :-)