A Very Short Long Time

And here is my poignant, "isn't it funny?" post for the day.

One year ago today, two days before Christmas, I was going through one of the worst times of my life for the second time in one year. For the second time, I had to go to the hospital, months too soon, to evacuate my womb of the products of conception, our baby whose life was over before it ever really started. It was hard to think of a worse way to spend Christmas, bloated and sad, wallowing instead of joyfully sharing the news of our pregnancy with our families.

It was an easy D&C, compared to the first one. It was the first time I met Dr. J, who was so kind and supportive. My recovery was physically easy and I wasn't plunged into a world of questions and uncertainty, also in contrast to the first time. Still, I couldn't help but wonder whether I would ever be pregnant for more than one trimester. Could I ever expect my babies not to die? Would I always just cycle through TTC, early pregnancy, and miscarriage?

Then there was this little taboo that seemed to come along with multiple miscarriages. One was horrible and tragic. But two? After two, we seemed to enter the realm of "they have problems." I was dissatisfied with how even close family seemed to try to sweep this under the rug. I'm sure they were following my lead, and I sure didn't want to bring it up. But I would have liked to talk about it a little bit more. Instead, I got depressed. But we all know I came out the other side and was finally able to move on, eventually.

And fast forward: today, December 23, one year after my D&C, I turned 37 weeks, technically full-term, with our expected first born. Instead of lonely, bloated and sad on Christmas, I'll be... well, still a little bit lonely since we can't travel, definitely bloated, but excited and expectant--no sad. I'm finally pretty much on the other side of that "perspective" that the whole crappy year of 2008 was supposed to give me.

I can't say it all worked out for the best. While I'm glad I'm not huge in the summer, I'm not exactly loving being huge during ice storms either. I am glad we're already in a house and not still in the old duplex. I could probably come up with a whole list of pros and cons of now versus what would have been, but it's not worth my time.

The point is, I'm not trying to be super sentimental here and say that one outcome is necessarily better than another. Clearly, we would not have Lily if Vector had survived. Is this a good thing? Not necessarily--it's not for me to know. The contrast between December 23, 2008 and December 23, 2009 shows how much can change in a year, and I'm glad for the changes. Having a baby wiggling in my belly is so much better than being freshly scraped out. Changing holiday plans for late pregnancy is so much better than changing holiday plans for miscarriage recovery.

A year past always feels so much shorter than a year ahead. Being full-term pregnant a year after a D&C shows just how short that long time can be.

Not a Boring Appointment

I had in my head a post to write tonight, pondering the changes that can happen in one year.

I'll get to that in a while, but I have to be newsy first! See, I'm 37 weeks today, and I had one of my weekly appointments today. The appointments have all been pretty in-and-out, and I thought today would be no exception. I did have Dr. J, my favorite who is the best at listening, so I decided to write out my "Birth Preferences" so she could look them over and give input. Turns out, we didn't get to that.

First of all, I had a 3:15pm appointment time, different from the norm lately when they've been mostly in the morning so Erich could go. We figured he'd be okay to miss this one. However, as the ice storm rolled into town, he decided to come home early so he could go to the appointment and work a little from home afterward.

He met me at the office and we waited at least 40 minutes before I got called back. I pulled out my little alarm clock that I use for piano lessons which happens to have a thermometer and learned that it was almost SEVENTY-SEVEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT in there. Yeah, I was boiling. Why would they try to cook the pregnant ladies? I don't get it. Anyway, I went back with the nurse, gave my urine specimen and she had me get on the scale right away. After many weeks of varying by one pound up and down, today I was up four pounds. I was not very surprised as I have been very swollen lately, though not as badly in the last few days. Then she took my blood pressure and frowned. At 130/90 it was, in her exact wording, "borderline-ish." Not wanting to sound the preeclampsia alarm prematurely, she said she'd give me a few minutes of sitting down and take it again. Indeed, it was lower just a few minutes later: 120/80.

The nurse got me and Erich into the exam room, and I got ready for the internal exam. Dr. J came in around 4:15 and said that if it weren't so close to "the holiday" (that's Christmas, btw) she would just watch me, but since my blood pressure was so much higher than the 110/52 from early pregnancy AND because there was protein in my urine, she was sending me to Labor & Delivery for monitoring. Ugh. Next came the measurements, and as I scooted to get into position, she poked my lower legs and I admitted I've been swollen, and she seemed concerned. Baby's heartbeat was present and accounted for, she didn't say anything about my belly's measurement, so I assume that's okay. The dreaded internal revealed that I'm not quite a fingertip dilated (so not really at all), but the cervix is soft and the head is down nice and low.

Dr. J gave us a flurry of instructions: go to L&D, hopefully they'll let me go after an hour, come back to the office on Monday, take it easy--let Erich do everything now (so much harder than it seems), blah blah. I have to pat myself on the back here for staying completely calm after a very fleeting moment of OMGWTFBBQ. I knew it was unlikely I would have a baby that day and I knew worrying about it too much would do nothing to help my blood pressure, so I just went with it. It was also at this point I realized how lucky it was that Erich was at my appointment so he could do the short drive to the hospital and be with me through the whole ordeal.

Into the hospital we went, I changed into a gown, peed in a jar, and a nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitors and BP cuff. I had to answer a million questions and get blood drawn. Then we just got to wait, watch TV, surf the web on our phones, etc. Each time the blood pressure cuff went off, I practiced my Hypnobabies techniques, and each time my BP went down. The final reading was 119/65! I'm thinking it helped that I was still and relaxed and it wasn't a burning furnace there in triage. It was fun to hear Lily's heartbeat and all the whooshing sounds when she would move around. It saved me the trouble of telling Erich when I could feel her move! At about 6:10 the nurse came back to say my labs came back normal (yay), my urine was clear and I'm plenty hydrated (yay) and I could go along home. She sent supplies for a 24-hour urine collection (YAAAAYYYYYY), which we can drop off on our way to church for Christmas Eve services, heh.

On the way out, Erich had to make me walk slowly. Oops. "Do I still have to rest?" I wondered aloud. "YES, you still have to REST," said my wonderful, supportive and incredulous husband. That's just the problem--I don't feeeeel like I have to rest. Erich said it's not bed rest or anything, but it is "butt rest." As in, I have to stay on my butt as much as possible. Again, I'm as lazy as the next guy, but I have presents to wrap! A baby's room to organize! This is so much easier said than done.

Aside from all that, I have to say a big thank you to Baby Jesus for letting Lily stay in to cook a bit longer. I want to avoid an induction and/or c-section at all costs, which is much easier if I stay low-risk! I wouldn't mind a 2009 baby, but I'd rather she come on her own when she's ready in 2010.

Lightening!

Why, hello blog! I haven't forgotten you; it's just that this pregnancy has been blessedly boring. Praise the Lord!

This past Friday, I had one of my boring, quick, bi-weekly appointments. This was with Dr. B, the one male in the practice who I've felt iffy about in the past, but he's actually pretty funny and personable, so I feel better now. Also, he walked in the exam room before I had even had a chance to climb up onto the table! So he gets a bonus for not making me wait. We were leaving the office only 15 minutes after my scheduled appointment time. That's pretty much unheard of! Anyway, when he walked in the room, he studied Erich's beautiful curly locks and asked if he had a perm. "It's too perfect! It must be man-made!" Nope, all natural. :)

After he measured my belly, Dr. B gave the baby a little squeeze and declared that the head is down in the pelvis and will now stay that way. Having a breech baby was one last little fear I had left, so this was a great relief!

The more I thought of it, the more I realized that I had felt Lily drop the day before. After Thanksgiving dinner, I was relaxing in a La-z-Boy at my parents house and had a few Braxton Hicks contractions. I gradually began to notice that my baby, who usually crushes my ribs and crowds my lungs, was being a bit kinder. Now it is unmistakable: my once-high bump has lowered significantly.

I hadn't realized that babies could drop so soon (at 33.5 weeks), but Google confirms that that's okay. And I have found myself pretty excited about this! I know I have a way to go yet, and my bladder is getting abused more and my waddle is out of control, but this feels like the first real sign of the beginning of the end--the first significant step before birthing my baby! It's like this is real!

To be perfectly honest, though, I still get irrational fears. I'm sure I'd have these fears with or without my miscarriage history, but it's still difficult to fully accept that I will be taking home a live baby from the hospital in about six weeks. The more our house fills up with furniture, clothes, and supplies for the baby, the more my nervous level increases. We have to plan for a permanent situation here, and even though I'm 99% sure we will not regret having so much for the baby, I'm still not 100% sure. I think this is a symptom of just general anxiety--normal pregnancy stuff. But I sure don't like it!

Let's just say I thank Lily profusely every time she wiggles, kicks, or presses against my skin. Stay strong, Little One!

Quick Post

I got a call from my OB's office today, and the news is that I officially do NOT have gestational diabetes.

So now I don't know whether the three most boring hours of the year were worth it last week. But this is good news, for sure!

Good News/Bad News

Well, the good news is I didn't accidentally drink the glucola before the specified time. And I didn't forget to fast long enough. I finished the orange drink (not tasty, but not horrible) at 7:45 this morning and had my blood drawn at 8:45. More good news: my iron levels are wonderful.

Bad news: my blood glucose levels are not ideal. They like to see a number at 140 or below, and I came in at 142. What does this mean? Well, I may not have gestational diabetes, nor can they say that I definitely don't. Therefore, I have to go to Quest Diagnostics next week sometime, drink some more lovely glucola, and then sit there for THREE HOURS before they draw my blood and tell me if I'm the range for GD.

Pros for having GD:

• I'm still relatively early at just over 23w, and I would most likely be able to get this under control with diet (and I might be the kind of person to do well on a doctor-enforced diet) before worrying that Lily will grow to be too big to deliver vaginally.

Cons for having GD:

• I'd be at an increased risk of developing Type II Diabetes later in life.
• Risks to Lily include macrosomia (large size), greater chance of childhood obesity, hypoglycemia, and diabetes.
• Being on an enforced diet would not actually be fun.
• It would be a big pain in the butt.

And the cons have it. Please pray that I pass the three-hour test!

We'd Have a One-year-old

Time, like an ever-rolling stream, soon bears us all away.*

Can you believe that my first baby was due more than a year ago? I can, but that doesn't make it easy to picture what it would be like to have a one-year-old already. Time continues to heal and I can view last year's emotions from a comfortable distance. I spent a lot of last spring and summer thinking about how far along I should be. To a lesser extent, I thought about how old Keiki would be after the EDD passed. But as life continued, the stream of time rolled along, those thoughts simply faded.

Anniversaries, though, have a way of bringing things back to the surface. In the past few weeks, I've seen a few one-year-olds and was struck by the notion that I would have one of those had things been different. I can't be sad about these thoughts; it's just not worth the turmoil. One thing miscarriage has taught me is that I just have to let myself feel what I'm going to feel and not try to force any emotions.

And I really am doing well continuing to look at the silver lining. If we had a one-year-old, we almost certainly would not have bought a house and moved. I would be a different kind of parent than I plan to be for this little one. I've had longer to think about pregnancy and parenting and my views have matured in many facets. And, in a general sense, I've learned to appreciate pregnancy far more and in different ways than I might have otherwise.

Now that I'm more than halfway there (!), I'm feeling Lily move around more and more, and I can barely change the size of my bump by sucking in. I'm really, really pregnant. I finally told all my piano students' parents so that they know what's going to happen after the baby comes. None of them knew about my miscarriages, and they still don't.

But the more people know and can tell I'm pregnant by looking at me, the more I feel compelled to explain my history. For every ten people who are really excited and happy for us, there's one or two that I suspect might be dealing with pain as regards pregnancy. Like that lady who just had her second child after a nine-year-gap. And that not-old-but-no-longer-childbearing-age couple who may not be childless by choice. My heightened sensitivity feels the need to explain to them that I have put in my time in the school of hard knocks, that even though I'm young and a relative newlywed, this road hasn't been as easy as you might assume. I'm pregnant, but I'm trying not to flaunt it.

That's just another unfair thing about miscarriage. Why should anyone's pain make someone feel better? Why should I feel like I have truly earned the right to be pregnant with a healthy baby by virtue of what I've gone through? No amount of explanation or attempts at justification will make my or anyone else's situation fair. There's just no fairness to be had in this fallen world. All I can really do, therefore, is to be at peace and pray. Pray for myself, for my Lily, and for all others out there who long to be parents but for whom the unfairness of life has intervened. Amen.



*from the hymn "O God, Our Help in Ages Past"

Fourth Appointment

Now that the wonderment of actually getting to go to my scheduled second appointment has faded, these regular appointments are getting to be pretty boring. And that makes me happy. :)

I was also glad to have an afternoon appointment--the office is much less crazy in the afternoon than in the morning. Today was pretty routine. Lily's heart rate was 152 and found easily on the Doppler, and Dr. J confirmed that everything looks fine and normal from the ultrasound. And the nurse gave me a small bottle of glucola for my next appointment.

I'm not looking forward to fasting for my gestational diabetes test, but I know it's an important test, especially since I have family history of diabetes. I've also heard that the glucola is pretty gross, but we'll see. Luckily, they scheduled me for an 8:45am appointment so I don't have to fast through the morning. I have to drink the elixir within 15 minutes an hour before the appointment. I'm expecting Erich to be Harry Potter to my Dumbledore at the end of Half-Blood Prince, making sure I drink it all so we can be sure I'm healthy.

The bigger task at hand is keeping that little bottle of orange potion safe in the next four weeks. I keep having visions of accidentally grabbing it and drinking it. As if!

Ultrasound Pictures

As promised, I have ultrasound pictures to share and show off. Lily is still pretty little and skinny, so some of these pictures came out a little creepy. I don't think it makes me a bad mom to say that. :) To the left here you can see her little face. The 3-d ultrasound doesn't give the clearest picture ever, and sometimes parts of the baby are missing in the pictures where she's up against the uterine wall. So, just like with the 2-d ultrasound, we have to use our imaginations a little bit to fill in the blanks. And what I see is my daughter! [That feels weirder to say than "my husband" felt in the first few weeks of marriage.] And she's darn cute!

So without further ado, here are the results of Lily's first glamor shots photo shoot:

Here you can see her little feet off to the left attached to skinny little legs, and her non-butt is on the right.

Here is the "alien baby face" shot. You can see the head on the left and the abdomen on the right. Through the first half of the scan her head was on the right, then she wriggled around to this position.

The very top is my skin, then you can see the layers of flesh. Right above the baby is the placenta. This image shows how her motions are cushioned from me by the placenta. Also, right above her head is her arm. This next 3-d picture gives a better idea of what she's doing:

She's got her elbows out and hands behind her head. Aawwwww.

In these two images above, she's getting physical. Doesn't it look like she's doing sit-ups? :)

Sucking on her fist.

That concludes Lily's first photo shoot. Hope you enjoyed it!

It's a...

...baby! Yes, we found out the sex today in our big ultrasound. But before I tell you what that is, I have to pause to reflect on my excitement that Wrigley's gender was the most significant thing we found out today. The tech obviously couldn't tell us if everything was completely fine and that there were no concerns, but in my semi-educated but completely amateur opinion, everything looked great.

Okay, I don't want to be pronoun-neutral any more, so here it is: it's a girl! Little Lily Anne was calm for a while and halfway through started jumping around like crazy. It was so cute! She lived up to her now-defunct nickname as a little wriggler.

A few items of note:

1. I have an anterior placenta, which means the placenta is laying across the front part of my uterus. I have felt not much more than flutters in the past few weeks, and it turns out it's pretty amazing that I have felt anything at all. Now I have permission not to worry if I don't feel big kicks for a while! I hope for Erich's sake that it's not terribly long; we're both looking forward to feeling it from the outside.

2. Lily measured 19w2. I had a feeling all along that she'd measure big. My official due date puts me at 18w3d, but that was from a transabdominal ultrasound at 7 weeks. I theorized at the time that because it's hard to get a clear picture so early that Wrigley might have actually been a little bigger. I'm 18w5d according to when I ovulated, so 19w2d is only four days ahead of that. But the big question is: will my doctor change my due date?

On the one hand, having an EDD of January 13 and delivering early would be quite nice. But having an EDD of January 7 and going a week late would be rather agonizing. I suppose I'd rather stay 18 weeks pregnant now than deliver past 41 weeks. I'm sure Lily will have her own plans, regardless.

3. Lily's overall measurement was 19w2d, and I'm not sure how they calculate that. Her estimated weight right now is 10 ounces. As the tech measured each body part, Erich saw different gestational ages pop up, and he noted that her head measures 19w4d. Not shocking at all, as Erich and especially I have proportionately large heads. But I'm hoping I also have a proportionately wide pelvis internally, you know what I'm sayin'?

Okee dokee, next up: ultrasound pictures!

EDD #2

It's late at night, and I'm going to ramble a bit.

I mentioned the other day that I've been thinking about Vector more often. Well, today was Vector's estimated due date. I have to say, it's a lot easier to deal with the EDD for a child that will never be born while carrying a 15-week baby than it was while still waiting for a baby, like the first time.

After we lost Keiki, and I had to go through the pattern of tests and waiting, tests and waiting, I found myself remembering often just how far along I should be. And then I would get sad and bitter (rinse, repeat...). With Vector that wasn't the case, and I'm not exactly sure why. Perhaps I didn't get as attached since I never heard or saw a heartbeat. Perhaps my earlier experience had prepared me for another miscarriage, and, in a sick way, I expected it. I was extremely unhappy that two miscarriages make miscarriage an expected outcome, but I couldn't let that sink my hope for long. It also made a difference knowing we could TTC again virtually right away. After Keiki, I wasn't sure when we'd ever get to TTC again.

Miscarriage #2 was just easier in every way. Physically, the D&C was a piece of cake and I bounced back physically in no time. Emotionally, I think I can pinpoint a time when I completely snapped out of it. Yes, there was a relapse or two into despair, but I didn't lose any ground in emotional growth since the first miscarriage.

And maybe that's why I don't remember my second pregnancy as well, and I certainly don't dwell on it very much. It got swept under the rug relatively easily. And with Wrigley on the way, I haven't spent any time at all in the last few months reflecting on how pregnant I would be if things had turned out differently. There would be no Wrigley if Vector were still with us, and I really, really love my Wrigley.

But still. In a world with no miscarriage I'd have an 11-month-old and a brand-newborn right around now. (It would be unlikely, but both babies could--technically--have made it to term without Keiki negating Vector's existence.) And perhaps we'd have to have stayed in our 2-bedroom apartment a bit longer with two babies sharing a room. The Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't He? As I've stated before, I don't believe God plans for these things to happen, but He can certainly make good come out of it.

I guess we really have made it out the end of the dark tunnel, because I really wouldn't change anything right now. I'm a mom to three babies, two in heaven and one on the way. And that's totally okay.

Baby Nicknames

I have recently come to realize that I've never really gone into explanations of our babies' nicknames here. Each one has a meaning, albeit not always a profound one. We have fun naming our babies before we can give them proper names, so here's a brief description of each one.

Baby #1: Keiki

Before Erich and I got married, we decided that we wouldn't use any birth control. So we were already aware that we could get pregnant pretty soon when we were on our honeymoon in Hawai'i. When there, we learned some Hawai'ian lingo, including the word keiki. It's Hawai'ian for "child" or "kid." Erich thought it would make a great nickname for an unborn baby before we know if it's a boy or girl, if we were to find out. I agreed, and when I did fall pregnant, Keiki was the nickname for the little one.

Erich continued in the assumption that Keiki would be the name of all of our unborn babies. I assented while I still assumed that our Keiki would eventually have a real name. However, after the miscarriage, never having found out if it was a boy or a girl, I couldn't bear the thought that our first baby would never have a unique name. I didn't really think to assign a new and meaningful name to our first baby: we had already continued calling him/her "Keiki." I didn't want this baby to have to be Keiki the First or Keiki 1. Thus, the Keiki nickname was retired.

Baby #2: Vector

It took a few weeks to settle on a nickname for our second baby. I had pitched a few, but Erich rejected them. It was then decided that Erich would be the official nicknamer, though we would decide together on actual names. One of the nicknames we threw around was Wrigley, after the field where our beloved Cubs play. That was eventually rejected, however. As this was mid-November, we still stung from their extremely poor performance in the play-offs that Fall.

"Vector" came about while we were watching an episode of House Hunters, set, coincidentally, in Hawai'i. The final scenes of the episode showed what the buyers had done with the house, and they showed a picture of a bedroom in which they had put down new wood floors. I quickly went into minor conniptions, convinced they had oriented the slats wrong (perpendicular to the bed, not parallel! Wrong, I say!). Erich, attempting to understand, said something sarcastic about the vector of the angles or some such gobbledegook. I laughed that my engineer husband could pull out such math-y terms in conversation. "Ha!" I quipped. "We should name our kids Vector and [other math-y word we can't remember]." I was joking about these being real names, but Erich got thoughtful and declared that Vector would be our baby's nickname.

One time, on a long car ride, I asked Erich one more time what a vector actually is. He patiently and succinctly explained it again, and I replied, "Wrong! It's a little baby." We laughed together, so excited to start telling our family that we were expecting a baby in July. Two days later, we found out that our little Vector's physical form had never been bigger than microscopic. This being the earlier of our two miscarriages, gestationally-speaking, and being crowded into a busy December, it's easier to forget the details of my second pregnancy. I've been thinking about Vector more often recently, though, remembering our baby who never developed a hearbeat.

But now, onto happier thoughts...

Baby #3: Wrigley

On the morning of April 30, I had a feeling I should take a pregnancy test, so I did, Erich close by. We waited patiently as the field of pink cleared, the control line darkened and so, very gradually, did the test line. We shared a high five and a hug before Erich went off to work. We did it again! It was Springtime. Unlike our last two babies, this one would be due in the Winter. Unlike our last two babies, this one we would expect to take home to our new house, which we would have plenty of time to get ready for a baby. And maybe unlike last year, the Cubs wouldn't play like champions in the regular season only to embody complete losers and be swept in the post season.

Yes, this was a new season of hope for our Cubs and for our fertility, so Erich soon decided that we could use our previously-tabled baby nickname, Wrigley. It fits much better for this baby than for Vector, since I've already had the joy of feeling this one wriggle around.

And, to answer the question I've gotten a few times already in the comments, we do hope to find out if Wrigley is a boy or girl at the big ultrasound. If we do get that info, Wrigley may be known as Wrigley for only a few more weeks!

Butterflies

Last night, Erich and I went to a concert held at our church. It was a group of four young men singing a capella. I wasn't sure what styles to expect; I thought maybe they'd sing some hymns in Barbershop harmony. I was delighted, though, that the program included mostly 16th century polyphony. I'm a total geek about old music like that.

I quickly found I could enjoy the music better with my eyes closed. Watching them was rather distracting, since people make weird faces when they sing and there were only four of them with no conductor. No, it was better to close my eyes, my tummy happily full of Chinese food, and let the sound wash over me.

During one particularly peaceful number, I opened my eyes with a start. I was only aware of something because if that something really WAS something, it had just stopped. Could it be? I set to work on feeling as much as I could feel. Closing my eyes, I focused on my torso. Soon enough, I felt it again: little butterflies, like that feeling you get in your stomach, only this was far, far too low to be in my stomach.

Maybe it's my dinner? When I focused enough, I could feel a few digestive processes. This was not digestion. The butterflies continued a few more minutes, gently tickling my insides, below my navel and at least a few inches back. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. "I may be crazy," I wrote to Erich, "but I think Wrigley likes this music!" Erich raised his eyebrows and made a "kicking" gesture with two fingers. "Butterflies!" I wrote. That's the best way I can think to describe it.

I wouldn't have posted this today for fear of being thought an overly-imaginative, crazy-type person, but I'm more and more convinced that I felt our little baby moving around. I have several reasons for this thinking:

1. I can be pretty attuned to my uterus when I concentrate. I remain convinced that I felt implantation in my last two pregnancies.
2. 15 weeks is early for a first-time mom to feel movement, but not too early to feel anything at all. For example, I never fancied at 10 or 11 weeks that I felt something. That makes me think I might not be crazy this time.
3. I have heard movement described in several ways, including little taps, little bubbles popping, a fish swimming, and of course, butterflies. I wasn't looking for any particular sensation, but I did notice it when in a state of relaxation, relative sensory deprivation, and at a time when my mind wasn't abuzz with random thoughts. Basically, it was as distraction-free as I can imagine!
   
4. I told my mom about this and she's convinced I felt the baby. She felt me move while on jury duty at about 15 weeks (granted, I'm her third child, but that goes to show that 15 weeks isn't too early to feel movement!) and feels it's all come full-circle.

There you have it. I may be crazy. Or this could be the beginning of the really fun part of pregnancy. :)

By the way, I'm aware that it's quite unlikely that Wrigley could actually hear and enjoy the music. Soon enough, though.

Third Appointment

Forget second appointment, that's old news. I've now made it to my third appointment, and I have no reason to worry that I won't make it to my fourth!

I was supposed to be seen yesterday by the wonderful Dr. J. I had the earliest appointment time, 9:15, and naively assumed I could make it back home in time for a 10:00 piano lesson. My last couple of morning appointments were indeed pretty fast, but I quickly learned never to assume I won't have to wait forever. The office was swamped when I went in, and I didn't even get to the front of the line until 9:25, when I was told Dr. J had been in surgery and wouldn't be back for at least 20 minutes. The stars seemed aligned against this appointment happening: Erich was supposed to come with me, but he got stuck an extra night out of town for work. I happily rescheduled for today with Dr. B.

Dr. B is the only male doctor in the practice and I hadn't met him until this pregnancy. I'm supposed to rotate through all four doctors, but due to my reschedule I've now seen him twice in three appointments. No biggie! But he is an interesting fellow. Imposing presence, distinct accent (probably Polish), and a quick, direct manner.

We finally got into a room about 30 minutes after the appointment time. My blood pressure had come in at 122/64--my lowest for an office visit during this pregnancy. I was definitely feeling a lot less nervous! I couldn't conjure any meaningful feeling of doubt if I tried. So I've stopped trying. Erich also reported being much more bored than nervous.

Dr. B burst into the room, exclaiming, "Okay! 17 weeks and according to this everything's just perfect!" I liked the "perfect" part, but I wasn't exactly sure where he got the 17 weeks part. Maybe he glanced at my LMP? Oh well. I swelled with pride about my beautiful BP and on-track weight gain as I laid back and got squirted with the gel. Then came the heartbeat! Erich finally got to witness how ordinary it is to hear a baby's heartbeat. He showed us the readout when he found it and it flickered around from 150--149--147--145--148 and it faded away. "It keeps moving!" boomed Dr. B. Yay! He cleaned off the gel, grabbed my arm and lifted me to a seated position. I choose to find this type of behavior amusing. Apparently he can't be bothered with simple directions like, "You can sit up now."

"You've only had one ultrasound?" asked Dr. B. I replied in the affirmative. "Then we'll get you in for another one. And if you want to know the gender, you have to ask!" On our way out he gave me an order for the ultrasound--held at the same imaging center as my ultrasound in April of last year. It had today's date on it but didn't say when to get it done. I asked Dr. B when I should schedule it. And he said in the next week or two. I said, "I'm 15 weeks now, would that be too early?" He replied, "You're actually 16 weeks [seriously, is he making this up?] but that is early. Just call them and schedule it for about 3 weeks or so." Gee, I'm glad I asked!

My next appointment is set for Friday, August 21 at 1:30 with Dr. J. Erich agreed that he doesn't really have to be there (thank goodness for the boring second tri!), especially since he'll definitely be at the "big show," the ultrasound still to-be-scheduled.

My Sincerest Apologies

I have neglected this blog with real news for too long. But as you've probably gathered from my last three posts, I'm pregnant! And, in fact, I would even go so far as to say I'm expecting a baby. Now that I can look at the first trimester in hindsight, I must say it's been a pretty fun time so far.

Remember this post? Yeah, let's just say I ovulated a few days later and I'm now 14w1d pregnant with our (probably) firstborn. I fully credit my healthy attitude with my relatively early ovulation (CD24!!!) and conception.

As you also probably gathered from the last three posts, we opted to tell our immediate families fairly soon. I was almost five weeks pregnant on Mother's Day when I grunted the news to my siblings on an outing to a Cubs game. Erich chided me for making it sound like I had a terminal illness. Truly, I didn't try too hard to be excited at that point. That's the curse of two miscarriages. And all I felt I had at that point was a handful of positive tests, a good initial hCG level, and a diagnosis of low progesterone (11.2 at about 4.5 weeks).

Luckily, I've found it doesn't take immaculately positive thoughts at all times to make a baby thrive. We were blessed to see and hear the heartbeat at 7w1d. Actually, based on my ovulation it should have measured 7w3d, but I didn't even let this discrepancy bother me. For long. Really, assurances are few and far between in the first tri when you've had two missed miscarriages. I knew our baby was fine at seven weeks, but how could I be sure at nine weeks that nothing had gone wrong? I just had to trust my continuing symptoms and keep going.

11w finally rolled around: my second appointment. I heard that brilliant heartbeat and was super thrilled. We could go ahead and tell the world! But I couldn't shake that feeling that we thought we were in the clear at 11.5w in my first pregnancy and told the world, only to have to untell a few days later. Yes, we hadn't heard the heartbeat in two weeks in that case, but I just couldn't be comfortable with telling a wide circle of people this time before we were in the safety of the second trimester.

And I hit the second trimester this past Saturday. I'm getting bigger, but I've been feeling down about my body. My limbs, butt and face seem to be getting as big as my belly, and I just haven't been feeling really pregnant. We'd been finding it easy enough to wait to tell everyone, so I was almost leaning toward waiting to tell more people till after the third appointment at 15w.

But our little baby is an overachiever and I'm really proud of him/her. You see, I've been cursed this week with the yeastie beastie, which took me to the doctor yesterday. The brilliantly lovely CNP at the office, who I hadn't met yet, checked for the heartbeat. She warned me that the only functioning doppler they had was for later pregnancy, so I shouldn't be alarmed if she couldn't find it. No worries, though! She found it within thirty seconds, thumping away. I am really, really, for serious in the second trimester. This gut I'm developing and this fullness in my lower abdomen is from an actual, living, growing baby.

So now Erich and I are finding it pretty easy to be thoroughly excited. We're starting to accept the reality that we need to start getting our new house ready for a baby, due around January 13. And now I know that my appointment a week from today will be icing on the cake! I think I can stop being nervous every time I go to that office! We're having a baby!

Email #3

from Susan K
to [close family members]
date Thu, Jun 25, 2009 at 5:40 PM
subject Another Good Day!


Hello, Family!

Today was my first second appointment ever. It certainly felt good not to have it canceled like the others. I was still nervous, however. I was glad to bring along my mom, who helped me talk out my nerves through the inevitable wait. When the doctor finally came in, she set to work right away to find the heartbeat with the Doppler machine. We heard some static right away and I thought I heard a faint beating which could have been my own heartbeat, and she said it might be too early to hear. As she started to look at her watch to check the rate, the wand turned slightly and we heard something much louder. After a little more searching, we heard it! The beautiful swish-swish-swish-swish of a little baby heartbeat. The nice doctor said, "Oh, hello baby!" and we knew it was a good day. The doctor also told me to start looking for a pediatrician. I guess that might be because I'm probably having a baby. Weird!

So we couldn't go straight home after that! We had to celebrate with some shopping. I finally had permission from myself to get my first article of maternity clothing, and can't wait to wear my super comfy, stretchy new capris for the rest of the summer. :)

Can't wait to see you all!

Love,
Susan

Email #2

from Susan K
to [close family memberrs]
date Fri, Jun 12, 2009 at 11:40 AM
subject Passing Milestones


Hello Family!

I'm pleased to report that I'm officially past the point where my last two pregnancies ended. And what's better is that I'm fairly certain I'm still pregnant! Every time I encounter the mild nausea that just doesn't go away, I have to celebrate a little bit. Every time I have to trudge to my bed to lay down because I'm so fatigued I can't think straight, I'm so happy. My dreams get weirder and more vivid every night. Yay!

I still have my moments, however. I actually went several days last week assuming that the baby had passed away. Perhaps I was too distracted by the move to notice my symptoms as much, but my attitudes and beliefs were that we were doomed again, we'd be back at square one in no time and have start all over again... AGAIN. Irrational, perhaps, but it happens. Erich and I eagerly await my next appointment in two weeks, when we might get to hear the heartbeat again. If there's still a heartbeat. See? It's pessimistic and unlikely, but that's how we think. We can't breathe easy till we get the NEXT reassurance. After the next appointment, we will wait for the next ultrasound. Hopefully then we can sit back and breathe a bit easier, but it's too soon to know just how easily we'll be able to breathe.

So just remember, that's why we still don't consider our news public yet. We'd like to be the ones to tell people, and we want to tell people when we're happy and excited and not still scared pooless that something bad is going to happen any minute. You all know, of course, because you are our closest family and can understand how scared we are and are scared with us. We can't do this alone and appreciate your support no matter what the outcome. For some reason, the thought of having the whole world know long before we're out of the murkiness of the first trimester enhances our fear. Thanks to this stupid History, we just have trouble being plain ol' excited like regular people. So please, bear with us, don't assume anyone else knows that we are expecting, and hopefully come January we'll all be able to joyfully greet our son or daughter, grandson or grandaughter, niece or nephew.

Thank you so much for all your love and support!

Love,
Susan (and Erich)

Email #1

from Susan K
to [close family members]
date Mon, May 11, 2009 at 10:52 AM
subject hCG


Hello Family!

The results from my second blood draw are in and it's good news so far. The hCG level doubled over two days, as it should, going from 1020 to over 2600. My first appointment was already scheduled for Tuesday, May 26 at 11:00am, and they're now having me come in at 10:30 that day for an ultrasound to make sure everything is going well. I'll be 7 weeks 1 day by my calculations, so if there's a heartbeat, we'll definitely see/hear it then.

We're still hoping and praying that the low progesterone as of 4 weeks 3 days (now supplemented) wasn't a bad sign. I'm 5 weeks today--a looong way to go!

Love,
Susan

[and this follow-up:]

One slight change: because of the ultrasound tech's schedule, my ultrasound and first appointment have been moved to Thursday, May 28 at 8:30am. Pray for a heartbeat!

1 Year and 1 Day

I forgot to post yesterday, but it has now been one year since one of my favorite ultrasound experiences ever, despite the discomfort and um, well, you know... immodesty. Yes, I'm talking about my hysterosonogram, the saline ultrasound performed by the magnificent Dr. M (maybe I should refer to him as Dr. Magnificent?) which finally, definitively diagnosed my crazy uterus as septate.

I think those five days, starting with the Monday I had the ultrasound and concluding with the surgery the following Friday were some of my most joyous of 2008. Throughout my entire fertility journey of 2008, this was one string of happy days that had nothing to do with miscarriage or TTC. It was filled with pure hope. I had a fixable problem and my childbearing years would not be condemned to more problems or, worse, futility.

It's hard to believe an entire year has gone by. A lot has changed in the last year, but from a fertility standpoint I still feel a bit stagnant. And I'm already 26 years old. I find myself disbelieving I'm so old--I know it's not very old, but I first got pregnant when I was 24, and I should have had a baby in the first half of my 26th year. Now I'll consider myself lucky if I have a baby by the time I turn 27. I used to think I'd be on the young side as a first time mom, but that is just no longer true; I shall be merely average. Ever since I turned 21 I've stopped wishing I were older, but I didn't realize that my desire to stay the same age for a while would hit the fast forward button on these years.

So, what gives, Science? Why haven't you yet found a way to slow down time?

Hm

Nope, no news here.

'Tis the Season

...for anniversaries. I had one yesterday: it's been one year since my first appointment with the RE, Dr. M.

It's funny, I wasn't planning on it, but I went out to the area of town near his office, which is rare. I stopped by Bath & Body Works because I wanted something that smells good, and I went to the Walgreens to get a Neti Pot and cough drops because I seem to be catching every virus that comes my way this season. And between these errands, I contemplated what I've been through since one year ago, when I was in hopeless limbo, still worried about whether I would ever have children.

I haven't seen Dr. M since my follow-up appointment last July after my surgery. The last thing he told me was to let him know when I get pregnant and have a baby and to send pictures. I know he would just love to add me to the photo album and count me as one of his success stories, but I still took hope from that. I knew it wouldn't be long.

Well, it wasn't terribly long until I got pregnant, but I never did notify him before I had another miscarriage. And now, it's been so long I hardly even think about my RE experience any more. But my outing yesterday reminded me of my hope and determination to be one of his success stories. I know I can have kids, even though I have trouble believing it sometimes, and when I do, it will be thanks to Dr. M, who made my uterus a hospitable place for a baby.

On House-Buying vs. Homeownership

As I've mentioned here before, DH and I are in the process of buying a house. We're in the lull right now between the acceptance of the offer and closing, which is in about three and a half weeks.

When we first walked through "our" house, and we both started to know that this was where we wanted to live, I felt such excitement. But that excitement was rightfully restrained. This is where I want to live, but that has little to do with actually living in this house. There are a thousand steps in between those two things, and a thousand chances for something to go wrong, something to send us back on the search at square one. But after passing a few big hurdles, the chances for disaster go way down.

On our way home from this our last round of house-hunting, we made plans to go back that night and bring my parents and get their blessing. Back at home, Erich and I talked excitedly about all we could do with the house and why it was so right for us. But we knew not to get ahead of ourselves--NOTHING was written in stone. That's when I realized that deciding to buy a house is a lot like finding out you're pregnant.

Knowing this is the house you want to live in as as much like homeownership as two little lines on a pregnancy test is like a baby. One leads to another, but they aren't really anything alike.

Putting in an offer is making your first prenatal appointment. You want a response on the offer, and you want to hang onto the baby long enough to make it to that appointment. Getting a counteroffer is not having spotting or significant cramping in the first few weeks. Getting acceptance of the contract from the seller is seeing the heartbeat for the first time.

Getting a mortgage is making it to the second trimester. Closing is making it to the third. Moving is giving birth. (Not looking forward to that part!) And then that's it, right? Nope, homeownership is parenthood. And then I can't really continue the analogy, but there you have it.

I'm excited to be just about to the "second trimester" on the road to homeownership. Now if only I can ever make it to the second trimester of pregnancy, I'd be even happier to have passed the major hurdles!

Psalm 113:9

I've taken to reading Psalms at bedtime. I like to read in bed, and that is when I do most of my book-reading, but sometimes an action-packed novel or weighty non-fiction gets to be too much stimulation for my brain, which needs to wind down and rest. The Psalms are generally short and easy to read, and I have the added advantage of getting to know my Psalms better, which is useful for me as a church musician.

The other night, my final reading was Psalm 113. The final verse, verse 9, reads:

"He gives the barren woman a home,
making her the joyous mother of children.
Praise the Lord!"

I could not have found a more comforting verse on which to meditate if I had been searching for it. Praise the Lord!

Still Trying

But what else is new? I really don't mind, though. It'll happen eventually.

Erich and I were on our way home yesterday from a very short weekend in St. Louis where I held no fewer than three babies, and we spent time with very good friends and family. Erich remarked to me over our cups of Wendy's chili that it was a refreshing change to spend time with family and friends of all ages, i.e. kids included. Not many (not any, I think?) of our friends we see regularly have any kids, and of the four siblings in my family, who we spend a lot of time with, three of us are married but only one of us has one child.

I agreed with Erich. We love our local friends and family, but spending time with self-absorbed young adults all the time can get a bit confining. We restlessly search for something a bit more than day-to-day goings on, career news, and the like. Watching babies and children grow and change is always exciting, and we just don't see enough of that at this stage in our lives. As our conversation continued, Erich gazed out the window into the rain, trying to find the right words. "I just think," he said, "that it's just about having a bunch of kids and going to church."

As I searched for the right "Yes! And..." thing to say, I stopped and realized that he had just said something very close to everything I had ever wanted out of an extremely good-looking husband. I had to melt just a bit. "What?" he said in reply to my stupid smile. "Oh, you just ovulated, didn't you?" *wink* As soon as I could get my convulsive laughter under control, I squeaked out, "Well, I wouldn't be surprised!"

It's easy for us at the moment not to feel terribly impatient in the TTC department because we are currently in the process of buying our first house, and that's a wonderfully exciting endeavor in and of itself. From the perspective of our young adult-style self-absorption, buying a house is so great! But we are already more than ready to be on our way to filling that house with kids.

Sick of This Stupid Journey

In a vacuum, I am doing spectacularly well. I am amazingly well-adjusted and healthy. I have no unrealistic expectations of myself. I am okay with my super long cycles--hey, at least I ovulate! I see every period of waiting as a chance to improve my life in all areas, and I never nurture any irrational doubts that I will ever be a mother. I am the very model of mental calm.

Unfortunately, life doesn't happen in a vacuum. It's in real life that I find this exemplary balance I've struck is actually extremely delicate. A breeze renders it unsteady; a gust can obliterate it. I've recently received some news (external, nothing to do with me directly*) on par with tornado-strength winds. I now have to do what I wasn't planning on having to do any time soon: pick up the pieces yet again and build a new support for the ever-elusive Hope.

I'm feeling angry at the world. Where yesterday my long-term view of the year ahead of me was simple and devoid of any major limitations, I now see timelines spring up, deadlines for maximum possible happiness. I really REALLY don't need to add that kind of stress to TTC. That's soooo 2008. This year was supposed to be different, but from my perspective right now, it's looking to be equally stressful and disappointing. I can't be more optimistic than that at this point: again, Hope has lost all foundation. It'll take some time to get that back.

Mostly, I'm resentful. I'm normally perfectly happy to fade into the background, so it's all the worse that Erich and I are now "that sad couple." "Better be nice to them, they're having problems." In my little vacuum, I'm so blessed and happy. Despite--and also because of--the challenges we've faced, our marriage is stronger than ever. Outside that vacuum, I feel exposed and vulnerable to pitying glances. Every glass of wine I drink is proof to others that I'm not yet truly fulfilled. Someone else's exciting news is a knife to my heart. It seems I'm having to choose between being emotionally on-display and total reclusiveness.

I just want to quit it all and have a whole separate miscarriage life that I don't have to live every day.


*Imagine a world where TWO positive pregnancy tests is incontrovertable proof that a baby will arrive, healthy and whole, nine months later. In this magical, mythical world, you can get pregnant without even meaning to--in fact, you can get pregnant while specifically trying not to. You don't have to worry about keeping your baby alive through pregnancy, you just have to worry about feeding and clothing it. There's no need to fret about whether this baby is healthy, but you do have to watch out for the possibility that there could be two in there. Did I mention the streets are paved with gold, the shores are lined with baby powder, and diapers are the universal currency? Such a marvelous, magical world! If only we could find a way to get there!

Have you cried yet today?

No? Here, let me help you:



I've seen this video posted from time to time over the past year and a half or so, on message boards and blogs. It didn't used to make me cry, but now it does. It didn't used to apply to me, but now it does. Time is powerful.

An Excuse for Sad

Why might I be a little down in the dumps today? Because it's Friday the 13th? Well, no--but yes. You see, it's been one year to the day since the worst day of my adult life. No Heartbeat Day, the First.

Yes, that is my excuse to be sad. That is, if I needed one. But I don't! I just can't muster up sadness just to "celebrate" an anniversary. Now, I wouldn't want to hop in a time machine to a year ago and tell younger me that a year later, I would still have no baby or even a pregnancy. This is certainly much, much less than I had hoped for. That's okay, though. Surviving sure beats the alternative.

I can't pinpoint the moment it happened, but sometime in the last month, someone turned off the grief switch. Sometime between my D&C follow-up appointment--when I was a hot mess of tears and sadness, feeling hopeless and utterly drained from the simple effort of being in that office with all the pregnant ladies for over an hour--and now.

Let us flashback to my follow-up appointment. Dr. J was great, but I just couldn't keep it together. I had sat in the waiting room for over an hour, watching tons of happy pregnant people come and go. I kept it together, but then I had to see the nurse (serious Laurie, who is actually really nice) and Dr. J, and they had to be nice and sympathetic, and that just opens the door for emotion. Blech. I've got nothing wrong with emotions, but I hate making a scene.

This is how my plan backfired. My whole "just let it out" idea actually led Dr. J to observe that I wasn't handling this grief very well, and that I must wait to TTC again, lest another loss thoroughly crush me. Uh oh. I asked her if it's absolutely necessary to avoid conception before I get my first period. You see, it takes me forever to ovulate, and I hate having to wait forever. She hesitated. "It's not absolutely necessary," she said. But then she went on to tell me that if I did have another loss, it would be bad to wonder whether I should have waited. ("Ignore," said my brain.) She went on, "So just wait till you get your period, and if everything seems normal, go ahead and wait another cycle, and if that seems normal, you can go ahead and start trying again." ("Ign--wait, what??") I stopped asking her advice. I knew this waiting wasn't necessary. I wailed again about how freaking long my cycles are, so she attempted to placate me by offering Clomid. No thanks.

I left the appointment feeling worse than ever. But over the next few days, I started clinging to those words, "not absolutely necessary." Physically, I was ready. And I just knew that my cycle wasn't progressing yet. This would be a very late ovulation, which was perfect to give me a chance to move on. The closer I got to ovulation, the more I knew this would be a TTC cycle, and I was totally at peace with that decision. And seeing how mentally balanced I was about everything, DH was totally enthusiastic and on-board.

I'm currently 9DPO. So even though I'm not knowingly pregnant and I don't have a baby, at least there's a possibility of being knocked up a year after my first m/c (given our track record, a 2 in 5 chance). If I'm not, then at least I will get that one cleansing AF the doctor ordered. I'm completely disregarding the fact that Dr. J recommended I wait two cycles. I'd be so much worse off emotionally if that were my plan.

Lastly, it has been warm this week. Record highs on Tuesday, and our many inches of snow are now completely gone. It's getting colder, but the sun is shining. It's nothing like the weather a year ago. Also, this time of year is pretty much the perfect storm for me (aside from Holy Week), professionally, with accompanying for band students' solo contest. I didn't do much accompanying last year because I had too much fatigue from being pregnant. This year, I'm adequately distracted from any opportunities to make myself sad.

And that's all I have to say about that. Still miss you, Keiki. S/he'd be almost six months old already.

Get Me Away

Not sure why it suddenly seems this way, but it seems like my Facebook is absolutely exploding with babies. None are mine. Never mine.

Luckily, I still don't have many friends IRL going through successful pregnancies... but I've seen enough happy families, easy pregnancies, and unspoiled notions of "BFP=baby" to make me feel like I'm going crazy. [I'm happy for them, but each time I see it I feel that much worse for myself. And THAT makes me feel guilty.] It makes me want to scream.

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY NOT ME? Why should anyone ever have to go through two miscarriages (or more) with no healthy child first or in between? Why do I have to be one of that 1% of the female population with a uterine septum? Why do I have to be in the less than 5% of the population who has two miscarriages in a row?

If I actually believed I were being punished for specific sins, I'd be flogging myself right now. At least then I could blame it on something. I'd at least have some excuse, something I could know not to do wrong next time. But there's nothing. All I can do is stumble through life and find some reason to hope that things will work out next time. It's all so very, very tiring.

Hi. My name is Susan, and I am bitter. And infertile.

The D&C, Take Two

I'm not in the mood to post as in-depth as I did last winter on my first D&C. But I do want to describe it to highlight how it was different from my first one.

I was very surprised at how easy it was! After two similar surgeries under general anesthesia, I thought I knew what to expect. But when we met the anesthesiologist, he told us that I would be under deep sedation, and he'd only go to general anesthesia if I moved around too much. I didn't yet understand what that meant for me, but it sounded good.

Then we met Dr. J, who was on call to do my surgery. She was wonderful, and I got to know why she was the doctor particularly recommended to me in this practice. She listened to me and gave me a chance to ask every question I could think of and thoroughly answered them to the best of her ability. Excellent bedside manner. I had expressed concern about my abnormal uterus and whether there might be any leftover septum that had a role in this loss. As I expected, she answered that it was unlikely since it was a blighted ovum, and she couldn't promise to be able to verify that there was no septum leftover, but she would certainly mention if she noticed anything.

The hospital seemed pretty empty, probably due to the fact that this was two days before Christmas. It seemed like I got to go through each step of the process relatively quickly, all while repeatedly answering questions as to my name and DOB, what procedure I was having done and whether I was allergic to anything. My mom and Erich were there with me, and we took our turns crying. Erich had to go to a rehearsal later that day, so the plan was for me to go to my parents' house and hang out on the couch for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I foresaw being out of it, hugging my box of kleenex, wallowing in sadness.

Then I was wheeled into the OR. The last thing I remember the anesthesiologist telling me that he was putting something in my IV that would not put me to sleep. Yeah, right.

Then I woke up, being wheeled into the recovery room. I opened my eyes and could see Dr. J and she was saying, "It went great! Textbook!" I felt joy at the idea of a textbook uterus. The nurses were fluttering around and one sat me up. I was waking up so fast! I felt like I had taken the most beautiful and restful nap ever, and I felt that weight-lifted-off-my-shoulders sensation I had expected with my first D&C but never had.

After only about ten minutes of hanging out on the bed, I was escorted to the recliner. There was very little bleeding. Erich and my mom got to come over soon after, and then I was eating snacks (delicious, wonderful FOOD after fasting for 14 hours!) and just generally feeling really good. I knew the emotional distress would hit me later, but for the time being I was just enjoying my comfort level. And I continued to enjoy it for the next few days, with negligible bleeding that day and none for the next five days. We were in and out of the hospital in about 3.5 hours, as opposed to the 5.5 hours last February.

So thank you, normal uterus, for not setting me into an abyss of confusion this time. Thank you, body, for not starting to miscarry naturally before the D&C. That really helped my mental health. And, above all: thank you, deep sedation, for not being general anesthesia and allowing me to feel normal so soon after my procedure. You guys really came through for me.

A Little Math

My first pregnancy ended at 12 weeks. My second ended at 9 weeks. 12+9=17.

Okay, okay, they were both missed abortions. (Cruelty, utter cruelty!) So if we count how long the babies lived, let's go with 9 weeks for the first pregnancy, and 6 for the second. There was no baby visible in the second, but at six weeks there would only be a fetal pole, which is small enough to disintegrate in three weeks' time. So I'm assuming I had a baby until about six weeks, since that's how big the sac was.

9+6=15.

My point is, I have been pregnant with a living baby for a total of 15 weeks. Shouldn't this give me a free pass to go directly to the breathe-easy second trimester next time? I've put in my time worrying through first trimesters. Been there, done that. My next BFP should make me 15 weeks pregnant. It's only fair!

Why don't the BFP gods ever pay attention to what's fair?

The Bad Ultrasound

I feel like a very unsteady wagon, passively pulled along. But the wheels are about to fall off. At the beginning of the coldest week in ten years. Awesome.

From the day we found out we lost our Vector (baby #2's nickname, long story), I made it my policy not to be strong for anyone. The only way to get through the grieving process is to get through it, cry when I feel like it, all the sooner to feel normal again. But grief appears on its own time. I was extremely sad at first and then I floated along, comfortably numb. But today, for whatever reason, I'm riddled with anxiety, unwilling to face the day, the week. What is the reward for persisting through each day? I'm having a hard time seeing it.

I must continue my policy. I have to continue to face this second loss, or I'll never be able to face another venture into the land of TTC. I can't ever be happy to become pregnant if this blighted ovum becomes merely a vague fear, an expectation of disappointment. This is a sad post, but it's my therapy. Read if you want; it's mainly for me.


We were finally home. It was Monday morning, and we had been in Michigan the preceding weekend, celebrating Christmas with the two sides of my extended family. We intended to be home Sunday night, but a horrible snow storm had us seeking refuge in NW Indiana at Erich's aunt and uncle's house. Early in the morning, we got up and drove the remaining 90 minutes home, glad to do it in the daylight. We had a few hours at home to unpack and shower, then we went off to the scheduled ultrasound, the one I hoped would confirm my own dating of the pregnancy: 9w1d.

Perhaps it was the significance of that date--the fact that Keiki was 9w1d when we saw the heartbeat--or the fact that we had finally started to tell people over the weekend, sharing our joys and nerves that made me very nervous for this ultrasound. The first appointment the week before had served to make me very excited, but the low progesterone issue shook me and I was half expecting bad news.

We had to wait for about 10 minutes before we were called back. The nervousness continued. The tech finally led us to the room, the same tech I had at my other two ultrasounds, the first one good, the second one bad. She asked if I'd had any spotting. Nope! She looked at my chart and said I should be around 11 weeks. I told her that I'm a late ovulator and was looking for nine. Okay then!

She blooped the gel onto my lower abdomen and pressed heavily on my very full bladder as my heart raced. My uterus came into view. It appeared pregnant to me, but we could not see a baby. No comfort had yet arrived. The tech zoomed in a little then asked: "Would six weeks make sense?" And my heart stopped. No. "NO!" I wailed, panicking. It was over, all over. My head started reeling as I heard her say that she could see a sac but that it looked tiny, tiny. No. No. NO.

Then my second least favorite statement, given my history: "I'm going to do an internal." I sat up and looked at Erich, who looked confused but hopeful. It wasn't quite over for him yet, which would be a normal, hopeful person's response. My hope was gone; reality had already crushed me. I left the room, crossed the hall and emptied my bladder, feeling there was no point. I went back in, and the tech left to give me a chance to undress my lower half. I sobbed and sobbed while Erich stayed by my side. "I'm not doing this again, I can't do this again," I kept saying. The tech came back in and was very sweet. She did the internal ultrasound and I didn't even bother to look at the screen. I knew Erich was looking, getting his conclusive proof that hope was gone. She didn't say much else--I know she's not allowed to, but it was clear to her that I already knew what she wasn't allowed to say. This was bad.

She kindly patted me on the knee one more time before she left to see if she could get a doctor to talk to us. We were escorted to Dr. D and Dr. J's office to wait for one of them to come in. I was so, so glad Erich was with me this time. We comforted each other, and I think we were trying to figure out if and when I should have a D&C, given this was three days before Christmas. Dr. D came in. Last time she gave me the platitudes and didn't have much to say, but this was loss #2, time to get down to business and figure this out. I asked some questions as she scrutinized my chart. She was looking for answers, and I appreciated that. We didn't leave with any conclusions, but the point we seemed to be hurtling toward is that my first loss was almost certainly due to the septum; this second loss was earlier and not consistent with any leftover septum or anything. Therefore, they were unrelated and bad luck. I asked if my very long cycles could have anything to do with it, and she was unable to answer.

Numb, sad, and disappointed. We cycled through those three throughout the day, taking turns comforting each other. Disappointed that we never got to tell Erich's family we were expecting, disappointed that we won't have a summer baby, or perhaps any baby in 2009. Sad to have lost another baby, sad to be that sad couple that everyone feels bad for, sad to be missing out on a joyful Christmas holiday. And numb when it all got to be too much.

The more we talked, the more I realized it would be better to get the D&C over with. How nice that I never started bleeding on my own. I felt relieved to be able to schedule it for the next day, even though that meant asking the other organist to cover the Christmas services I was supposed to play. I still regret not getting to play organ this Christmas, but c'est la vie.

Truth be told, I'm still pretty numb a lot of the time. And depressed. I hate winter.

MAs in the News

Here's the latest in TOTALLY AMAZING and UNBELIEVABLE news from the UK: a woman with two wombs has fallen pregnant!

Read all about it at the Daily Mail.

Perhaps I've become a snob about müllerian anomalies since my months immersed in learning as much about them as the internet had to teach me. Heck, I even make sure to put the umlaut over the "u." So, as such, I find it very hard to be amazed by this news item.

Sure, uterus didelphys is one of the more rare MAs, but it's not unheard of. And pregnancy is very possible and probable. Even the doctors cited say her chances of pregnancy is (only) HALF those of regular women. Dear me!

Here are some of my favourite [see what I did there?] parts of the article:

She was unaware of a bigger surprise to come. Her rare condition, uterus didelphys, had not been detected because her body is normal externally.

Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait. You can't see a womb (or even two!) from the outside? (They're probably talking about how her dual bajingos have only one opening to the outside, but still.)

Although eight in 10,000 women in the UK have some form of uterus didelphys, only one in a million has exactly Mrs Hasaj's anatomy.

And I bet no one else's septum looked exactly like mine. And no one has my exact liver or just that exact curve of my left fallopian tube. Big deal.

'The baby was kicking and wriggling and it felt wonderful. It made me feel like I was any other mum experiencing the joys of pregnancy.'

Despite the double womb, she's most likely pregnant with a human baby.

The condition does pose some problems because the two wombs are considerably weaker than a normal one.

Well, that's true. I believe UD is like having two unicornuate uterii, so there's risk of intra-uterine growth restriction, premature birth, breech presentation, etc.

Doctors have also told her this will probably be her only baby and her dreams of a large family are unlikely to be fulfilled. 'I'm just happy that I've been given the chance to be a mum at least once,' she said.

Those doctors are complete idiots.

I hope you have enjoyed, as I have, our romp through "MAs in the News" today. It feels good to be such a know-it-all, doesn't it?

I'm Transparent

In the interest of full disclosure, I want to say that the last three posts were actually written today. I hated to see that the first post on the page was filled with such hope and confidence (even though I was the only one who could see it), and there was so much to say since my 12/5 post. Yet I didn't want to write about everything from the perspective of my second loss. I hadn't gotten around to making my update posts, but I had intended to. It was difficult at times, but I tried to accurately portray the emotions I felt at each stage.

I will fill in the rest of the story. I feel as though I have to. It hurts a lot to pull it out of myself, but it's healing as well.

For now, I'll just say that miscarriage completely sucks and I totally hate 2008. 2009 hasn't started off very rosily either.