Saturday, October 16
Our Candles Last Night
These are the candles DH and I lit last night. The tapers are for Astin and Ember and the pillar is for all the other babies whose lives ended too soon.
Thursday, October 14
October 15th World Wide Candle Lighting
Please join me in lighting a candle for all the babies who die during pregnancy or their first year of life outside the womb. Seven pm (1900 hrs) your time for one hour on Friday 15 Oct. 2010. Even if you don't personally know anyone IRL who has lost a baby, you're reading my blog, so you "know" me. I'd be honored if you choose to light your candle in memory of Astin and Ember.
Thanks for watching and participating and spreading a wave of light around the world!
Thanks for watching and participating and spreading a wave of light around the world!
Wednesday, October 13
A Breather **UPDATED**
Thanks so much for the supportive comments on my last post. It really helped to read them. And today, I woke up feeling much better. Yesterday was awful: lots of emotions and crying and just feeling dead when I had to be in public, which was far too much of the day. I was running around doing errands on my bike in the morning before it got too hot, then home to make 3 days worth of meals so I won't have to cook today or tomorrow, then out again (this time in the car) to the lab for the blood draw for my tests. I should know the results by Friday--Monday at the latest. (I'm actually crossing my fingers that I have FVL, & that it's the only thing I have, so I can get treated and have a good chance of a healthy pregnancy.) Then home briefly for dinner and out again for my Music for Minors training class. I got home last night completely exhausted. I was in bed by 10:30 & asleep by 11 (that's good for me, I haven't been sleeping well the past week or so) & I woke up this morning feeling refreshed.
I think part of it was the dream I had last night. We'd had a baby. The birth wasn't part of the dream. For some reason I hadn't been conscious for the birth itself, and the dream was about meeting the baby for the first time. He was a boy, and big and healthy. I was so happy to have him. We were still in the hospital with him, and getting ready to take him home. I kept having to send DH to get things like a going home outfit for our son and his car seat. And then I woke up.
Even though the dream was fairly short, it left me with a feeling of peace and hope. I think part of what I realized in the dream is that having a healthy baby will be worth the challenges of an increased risk pregnancy. I'm starting to believe that I'll be able to handle this new twist in my life. And that feels really good.
I'm glad I'm feeling more at peace today, because I'm going to observe an experienced music docent teaching her class in a few hours and then talk to her after her class is over. With this whole training, I'm really enjoying the music part, but most of the other trainees are moms with kids, and several are pregnant. It's hard to be in a room with them, and I've been avoiding making friends. Teaching the kids will be fine. It's being around parents that's hard for me. So when I found out that the docent I'm observing wants to talk to me after the class, I got worried. What if she asks if I have kids? The way I was feeling yesterday, I thought I'd probably lose it. But today, I think I'll be able to handle it. It won't be easy, but I'm not on the verge of tears the way I was yesterday. I'll let you know how it goes.
The class went well. No chit-chat about personal stuff, just business & learning. Turned out I was there for her first class of two, so there wasn't as much chatting time as I had feared, and I did learn some things--like how Kindergartners really behave and what it really takes to teach them a song or keep them focused on the activity at hand.
I think part of it was the dream I had last night. We'd had a baby. The birth wasn't part of the dream. For some reason I hadn't been conscious for the birth itself, and the dream was about meeting the baby for the first time. He was a boy, and big and healthy. I was so happy to have him. We were still in the hospital with him, and getting ready to take him home. I kept having to send DH to get things like a going home outfit for our son and his car seat. And then I woke up.
Even though the dream was fairly short, it left me with a feeling of peace and hope. I think part of what I realized in the dream is that having a healthy baby will be worth the challenges of an increased risk pregnancy. I'm starting to believe that I'll be able to handle this new twist in my life. And that feels really good.
I'm glad I'm feeling more at peace today, because I'm going to observe an experienced music docent teaching her class in a few hours and then talk to her after her class is over. With this whole training, I'm really enjoying the music part, but most of the other trainees are moms with kids, and several are pregnant. It's hard to be in a room with them, and I've been avoiding making friends. Teaching the kids will be fine. It's being around parents that's hard for me. So when I found out that the docent I'm observing wants to talk to me after the class, I got worried. What if she asks if I have kids? The way I was feeling yesterday, I thought I'd probably lose it. But today, I think I'll be able to handle it. It won't be easy, but I'm not on the verge of tears the way I was yesterday. I'll let you know how it goes.
~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ Update ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~
The class went well. No chit-chat about personal stuff, just business & learning. Turned out I was there for her first class of two, so there wasn't as much chatting time as I had feared, and I did learn some things--like how Kindergartners really behave and what it really takes to teach them a song or keep them focused on the activity at hand.
Monday, October 11
Paradigm Collision
I am reeling. It's as if there has been some kind of internal value-system earthquake. There is some major internal upheaval going on and the shock waves are really effecting my emotional state. And not in a good way.
I went to see the first in a series of specialists today. I plan to consult at least three doctors before making any decisions. It was both good and bad. On the good side, he took his time, answered all my questions, and ordered the tests to find out if I have FVL or another clotting disorder. But on the bad side, he's still a doctor, and as his patient, I would give up a good deal of my autonomy in exchange for treatment that could save my next baby. It really brought home to me the fact that I'll have to undo years and years of mental programming before I can come to terms with the realities of OB-managed prenatal care & hospital birth.
That programming started when I was very young. For as long as I can remember, I've known the story of how I was born at home. Around that story, I formed the beliefs that birth is natural and normal and home birth is better than hospital birth. (Very idealistic and black & white, I know. I see that now.) As a young adult, I became fascinated with birth, and for a while I studied home birth midwifery. I even spent a few months working as a birth doula in hospitals and apprenticing with a local midwife before deciding that midwifery wasn't the right career for me. However, I got to compare the realities of home birth versus hospital birth first hand, and these experiences only intensified my desire to have my own babies at home.
Now, if it turns out that FVL is indeed the culprit that caused my miscarriages, I'll be planning a hospital birth instead. Because I know I can't face the emotional pain of another unnecessary loss, when there is treatment available. Instead, I'm going to face the emotional turmoil of rearranging my whole value system when it comes to pregnancy and birth. Which is going to be very hard to do, because I can't just slap on the new belief The Most Important Thing is a Healthy, Living Baby; I also have to root out the old belief that Home Birth is Best and all the little off-shoots of it. There are so many off-shoots. Many of them are even based on solid research. But since that research was done on healthy women, it won't apply to me if I have FVL.
I never thought I'd be here. I know, I've said that before, but tonight I'm hurting, and I could use some support. Even if you can't understand my desire for a home birth, I hope you can understand that it's the colliding of paradigms, and the upheaval in my value system that hurts so much. I don't know how to successfully make this 180 degree shift. All I know is that I need to if I am going to stay sane. The truth is, my values have changed, having a healthy baby is more important to me now than where I give birth. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean it's easy to let go of the old dreams.
I went to see the first in a series of specialists today. I plan to consult at least three doctors before making any decisions. It was both good and bad. On the good side, he took his time, answered all my questions, and ordered the tests to find out if I have FVL or another clotting disorder. But on the bad side, he's still a doctor, and as his patient, I would give up a good deal of my autonomy in exchange for treatment that could save my next baby. It really brought home to me the fact that I'll have to undo years and years of mental programming before I can come to terms with the realities of OB-managed prenatal care & hospital birth.
That programming started when I was very young. For as long as I can remember, I've known the story of how I was born at home. Around that story, I formed the beliefs that birth is natural and normal and home birth is better than hospital birth. (Very idealistic and black & white, I know. I see that now.) As a young adult, I became fascinated with birth, and for a while I studied home birth midwifery. I even spent a few months working as a birth doula in hospitals and apprenticing with a local midwife before deciding that midwifery wasn't the right career for me. However, I got to compare the realities of home birth versus hospital birth first hand, and these experiences only intensified my desire to have my own babies at home.
Now, if it turns out that FVL is indeed the culprit that caused my miscarriages, I'll be planning a hospital birth instead. Because I know I can't face the emotional pain of another unnecessary loss, when there is treatment available. Instead, I'm going to face the emotional turmoil of rearranging my whole value system when it comes to pregnancy and birth. Which is going to be very hard to do, because I can't just slap on the new belief The Most Important Thing is a Healthy, Living Baby; I also have to root out the old belief that Home Birth is Best and all the little off-shoots of it. There are so many off-shoots. Many of them are even based on solid research. But since that research was done on healthy women, it won't apply to me if I have FVL.
I never thought I'd be here. I know, I've said that before, but tonight I'm hurting, and I could use some support. Even if you can't understand my desire for a home birth, I hope you can understand that it's the colliding of paradigms, and the upheaval in my value system that hurts so much. I don't know how to successfully make this 180 degree shift. All I know is that I need to if I am going to stay sane. The truth is, my values have changed, having a healthy baby is more important to me now than where I give birth. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean it's easy to let go of the old dreams.
Sunday, October 10
Pregnancy & Infant Loss is Equivalent to Infant & Child Death? (Rant)
Really? I just found out that the Miss foundation is campaigning to re-name October "Infant and Child Death Awareness Month". They apparently take issue with using the euphemism "loss" instead of saying "death". I agree with the principle. I don't like euphemisms either. But I have still a problem with the title "Infant and Child Death Awareness Month": it avoids a very important issue--the issue of babies that die during pregnancy. The general public will see this title and stay in their comfortable fantasy where two pink lines always result in a healthy baby 9 months later. And the 1 in 4 women who have at least one miscarriage will no longer have a month to say, "I am a Mother. My child died before it could be born. Please honor me and my grief."
As a mother who has had two pregnancies that each ended before 4 weeks gestation, I feel excluded from the term "Infant and Child Death". My babies were real to me. But that doesn't mean I think they were equivalent to infants. In my mind, an infant would be big enough to hold, developed enough to look human. Many people will hear or see the word "infant" and think of a baby born alive. My babies were probably too small to see without a microscope, and in reality, they probably did look like a cluster of cells. Much of what I grieve for is the potential that was lost. Yes, "lost". As in "gone" or "unable to be found or recovered". They also died, but life can be re-conceived. What I can never recover is those two precious individuals. They had the potential to become full people with personalities and characters all their own. They were individuals. I also grieve the loss of my dreams. When my babies died, I lost my dreams of motherhood, and they lost their potential as developing humans. For me, the phrase "pregnancy loss" is pretty close to the truth.
Of course, I could be uber accurate and say something like "embrionic death", or "fetal death". Accurate, yest, but cold and sterile sounding. On the other hand, I could say something like "pre-birth death", but that sounds like an oxymoron. I understand why people have a problem with the word loss. One reason is that it implies that the survivor misplaced their loved one. My babies certainly weren't misplaced, but my dreams were. My hope was. My innocence was. Those things are gone, and I doubt I'll ever find them again. So the ending of a pregnancy does involve loss. Especially when it ends very early. I'll stick to calling October "Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month". For now. Until someone comes up with a euphemism-free title that is still explicitly inclusive of the death of a baby at any point in pregnancy.
As a mother who has had two pregnancies that each ended before 4 weeks gestation, I feel excluded from the term "Infant and Child Death". My babies were real to me. But that doesn't mean I think they were equivalent to infants. In my mind, an infant would be big enough to hold, developed enough to look human. Many people will hear or see the word "infant" and think of a baby born alive. My babies were probably too small to see without a microscope, and in reality, they probably did look like a cluster of cells. Much of what I grieve for is the potential that was lost. Yes, "lost". As in "gone" or "unable to be found or recovered". They also died, but life can be re-conceived. What I can never recover is those two precious individuals. They had the potential to become full people with personalities and characters all their own. They were individuals. I also grieve the loss of my dreams. When my babies died, I lost my dreams of motherhood, and they lost their potential as developing humans. For me, the phrase "pregnancy loss" is pretty close to the truth.
Of course, I could be uber accurate and say something like "embrionic death", or "fetal death". Accurate, yest, but cold and sterile sounding. On the other hand, I could say something like "pre-birth death", but that sounds like an oxymoron. I understand why people have a problem with the word loss. One reason is that it implies that the survivor misplaced their loved one. My babies certainly weren't misplaced, but my dreams were. My hope was. My innocence was. Those things are gone, and I doubt I'll ever find them again. So the ending of a pregnancy does involve loss. Especially when it ends very early. I'll stick to calling October "Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month". For now. Until someone comes up with a euphemism-free title that is still explicitly inclusive of the death of a baby at any point in pregnancy.
Thursday, October 7
I'm In!
I just got an appointment with the most highly recommended RE in my area. You know the kind. He's booked up completely and "not taking new fertility patients." I feel so lucky. Basically, I got in because I knew the right person. I go to a fertility support group at a local pregnancy resource center, and at the last meeting, I mentioned that I was considering this particular RE. The group leader encouraged me that she thought I'd get in, explaining that he had recently contacted the resource center looking for new patients. But just in case, I asked her to let him know she was referring me. It's a good thing I did, since the receptionist wanted to be sure he'd "pre-approved" me before giving me an appointment. I have to wait a month to see him, but from everything I've heard, it will be well worth the wait. His website even includes treatment of thrombophilias & multiple miscarriages in the Fertility Services section. I have high hopes that he will be able to help me have a full term pregnancy.
I'm still keeping my appointment with the RE I mentioned in my last post, and I may look for an MFM to consult with as well. I want to be able to compare the doctors (and their opinions) to each other before I make a decision on which to hire for my pregnancy.
On a side note, to answer the questions of one of my readers:
I'm still keeping my appointment with the RE I mentioned in my last post, and I may look for an MFM to consult with as well. I want to be able to compare the doctors (and their opinions) to each other before I make a decision on which to hire for my pregnancy.
On a side note, to answer the questions of one of my readers:
- My location I keep private. I'm a private person. I'm only comfortable having this blog because I know it is completely anonymous.
- The "protocol" so far has been to grieve and deal with my grief. It's only within the last 2-3 weeks that I have felt emotionally strong enough to face the music, find a doctor, and get tested. A more "medical" protocol will have to wait until I both find a doc I am comfortable with and get tested to find out why I miscarried.
Tuesday, October 5
Crash
I crashed tonight emotionally. I know it's partly hormones. I can always feel a difference when the progesterone takes over after I O. But I also feel like I had it coming. I was doing really well, being really productive, getting lots of things done and feeling optimistic. I still have at least a chance of a home birth--I clarified that with my midwife. I made an appointment with one RE and got a referral to a second one. So that's a good start. Things are going quite well. Or they were. I guess I ran out of steam.
Tonight I went to my Music Docent training class and got totally overwhelmed. I have no idea how I am going to cope with planning weekly lessons, I can barely even keep up with the homework. They gave us 22 pages to read in 36 hours. Not Fair! Couldn't they have given us a heads up about that over the weekend? I know, I know, it's only week 3 of training. We have at least 6 more weeks, but I feel totally lost. It's fun, and I'm good at singing, but the prep work & teaching & classroom management have me totally intimidated.
I also have a Sunday School lesson to prepare for this Sunday. I have an outline, but I haven't practiced or figured out what materials I need. Ugh. I'm drowning. Sinking. Feeling very pessimistic. Yesterday, I could picture myself having a live baby in a year or so. Today I can only picture another miscarriage. What if I get treatment, but it's still not enough to keep me pregnant? What if I have to go through another miscarriage before they get the dosage right? How do I choose the doctor who will be best at figuring out what I need? Why does treating clotting disorders have to be so hit-&-miss? Ugh.
Tonight I went to my Music Docent training class and got totally overwhelmed. I have no idea how I am going to cope with planning weekly lessons, I can barely even keep up with the homework. They gave us 22 pages to read in 36 hours. Not Fair! Couldn't they have given us a heads up about that over the weekend? I know, I know, it's only week 3 of training. We have at least 6 more weeks, but I feel totally lost. It's fun, and I'm good at singing, but the prep work & teaching & classroom management have me totally intimidated.
I also have a Sunday School lesson to prepare for this Sunday. I have an outline, but I haven't practiced or figured out what materials I need. Ugh. I'm drowning. Sinking. Feeling very pessimistic. Yesterday, I could picture myself having a live baby in a year or so. Today I can only picture another miscarriage. What if I get treatment, but it's still not enough to keep me pregnant? What if I have to go through another miscarriage before they get the dosage right? How do I choose the doctor who will be best at figuring out what I need? Why does treating clotting disorders have to be so hit-&-miss? Ugh.
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