Are We Ready For This?

Tomorrow is the big day. I start my first lupron injection and my donor egg cycle is officially a go. It's exciting and scary and a bunch of other things too. And it's happening,,,,, now. Not some day in the future,,,,, but now. It's not just a concept anymore, it's a reality. Last night before falling asleep I found myself wondering if we're ready for all of this?

On the one hand I can't wait to get started. On the other hand I know this means we're diving head first into uncharted territory.

Putting ourselves back out there. 

To that scary place where we will be vulnerable again. 

Where we cannot protect ourselves from failure, or success,,, or another loss. 

• Are we ready for all of this? Who knows. 
• Is there ever going to be a day when our feelings won't be so raw and vulnerable? Probably not. 
• Are we in a place where we could handle another pregnancy??  I hope so. 
• Are we in a place where we could handle another pregnancy loss? I have no idea. 

All I know is that we want more than anything to have a living, breathing, take-home baby.

• One who we can watch grow up and that can smile cheekily in family photos. 
• One who is noisy, and messy, and demanding of our time. 
• One who makes a huge wail when he or she is born. 
• One who's eyes we get to see looking up at us. 
• One who's hair will grow long enough that we know what color it is. 
• A baby who can be a living part of our family, not just a memory. 
• We want a baby we can hold in our arms and not just in our hearts.

All I know is that in order to have our take home baby we have to put ourselves out there.

At risk. 

Where the very best things can happen. 

Where the very worst things can happen. 

Are we ready for all of this? I suppose we're as ready as we'll ever be. We are cautiously optimistic and praying for a positive outcome. In the end I guess that's the best that we can be right now.

An Amazing Letter From My Mother

We're getting ready to start our donor egg IVF cycle and I was talking with my parents about it over the weekend. They are hugely supportive of what we are doing because they know exactly what we are going through. You see, when I was 2 years old my Mother had a stillborn son. The cause was doctor error,, they pierced the umbilical cord during an amnio in the 8th month. She had no idea anything was wrong until the next appointment when they found no heartbeat. This was back in the 1970's when people weren't nearly as sensitive to these things. They told her to go home and wait for labor, which took almost two weeks to happen. In the meantime she had 2 year-old me to chase around and there was no hiding the bump. After my brother was born, they whisked him away and a priest came to visit and told her she was young and could have more babies. They never named him and don't know where exactly he is buried.

I am telling you this to give you some context to the amazing email that she wrote me after our conversation. In this amazing letter she is writing to me not just as my Mother, but as a fellow BLM. She doesn't know I blog so I'm sure she won't mind that I share it with all of you. I will post this as she sent it, except for a few minor edits to remove some names.

I found it very inspiring to hear the words of a fellow BLM who is over 30 years into her journey. She has amazing perspective and I hope her words can help comfort you as much as they comforted me.

Dearest  "My New Normal",

Today when we were talking, I realized the enormity of all you have been through. You have been through shock, loss, pain, grief, depression, and finally hope. You have also felt the love and support of your husband, family, friends, and fellow sisters who have lost their babies! Each of us has tried to give you our words, shoulders and most of all our healing love! You've found the words and poems that describe your own grief and feelings. 

I too sought the same things. The sharing of sadness, learning that what we think and feel is universal, creates a comforting connection between us and other women, and helps to validate what we personally think and feel. To heal it is absolutely necessary to understand exactly what we have been through, as we try to measure our progress toward recovery. 

I learned that I was forever changed, but also learned that while I had deep pain, I also had a strength I had not known I possessed. Like I've heard you say, I would never wish this upon anyone, but I do believe that the only way we get through such crushing loss, is with the nearness, and caring of our loved ones, and all who helped us were placed in our lives by God. People who were there when we needed them, said the words we needed to hear, were put there by God. Our friends are the hands of God here on earth.

I think I pondered the same things you have, and so for 2 years I waited for the magical moment when I'd feel completely healed and ready to try again. Then I realized that the next step would not be as I expected. I saw that I needed to go forward, and that it would take a "leap of faith", and I was not sure I could be brave enough. So your dad and I just decided to look ahead, think positively  and trust in the ultimate compassion of God.

You know that goodness surrounds you, and if you look in the right places and continue to reach out for the "healing touch" you will find the comfort that will give you hope and joy . What I want most for you, is to shift your total focus toward the future. Allow yourself to wish, hope, and pray for everything that you two want. I read a phrase that said, “I will have my angels encamped around you because I want to protect you”. Dad and I will begin again to pray nightly for you and "the hubby" to be blessed with a "gift from God".

We love you and are with you!

Mom and Dad

 

I'm A Big Baby At The Dentist And I'm Proud!

I'm not really proud that I'm a big baby at the dentist. That was actually a weak attempt at sarcasm. I'm actually quite embarrassed at my behaviour lately but It's real so I'm trying to own it.

It all started a while back when I realized that I had run out of excuses to avoid the dentist. You can click on the link there to read all about the back story. But bottom line, I need cavities filled and I get scared. So the dentist gave me a prescription for 10 mg of Valium (weak in my opinion) and we booked my appointment.

Last Friday was attempt number one. I'm sure you can see what's coming here.

I took my little pill and walked to the dentist. I was immediately told off for not having someone walk me to the appointment as had been required. As I only skimmed the instructions I had not noticed that I was supposed to have a friend take me to AND pick me up from the appointment. Oops! Scolding over, it was time to get to work.

I got all numbed up with those horrible long needles and handled it like a trooper. In fairness, the needles have never been my issue, but I'm trying to get myself some credit here.

Then the drilling started.

This is where the panic set in. I am always afraid that the Novocaine won't work and I will feel something. It happened once and I've never been able to get over it. So I make it not even half way through one tooth and I start shaking. They ask if I'm cold. I explain that I'm not cold but am starting to have a panic attack. They sit me up to help me relax. Instead of relaxing I burst into tears.

Total humiliation.

I tell them I can't keep going. I can't do this. I am now in full blown panic. Nice!

So the dentist puts a temp filling in the tooth he was working on and I have to call my friend an hour and a half early to come and pick me up. She seemed quite surprised to be hearing from me so soon. So I have to share my humiliation with her. I'm sure she wanted to laugh at me, but was sweet enough not to.

I then had to make another appointment to come back and finish the work. This time I would be put under sedation. They have to bring in an anesthesiologist and everything. I'm not going under general or anything. Just a light sedation where I will be responsive but have no memory of the treatment!

No memory!!! Woo hoo!! No memory of the needle or the drill????? Sign me up!!

Did I mention it's expensive and most likely not covered by insurance?? Oh well, I'm trying not to think about that part since without it I would most likely never get the work done and my teeth would all rot and fall out. Nothing is more sexy than a woman with no teeth right! : )

So yesterday was the big appointment and attempt number two. I was still nervous even though I knew I was getting the good drugs this time. I got to the office a bit early and met my anesthesiologist. They sat me in the dentist chair and looked for a good vein in my arm. Once that was done I got a little injection and ............... bliss.

I remember waking up feeling a bit groggy. My husband was there to pick me up. The dentist was smiling at me telling me what I great job I did and how all the work was done. I don't remember a thing! It's like magic! Go to sleep and wake up with your fillings done.

I was a bit of a waste last night. The appointment was over at 5:30 and I pretty much only stayed up long enough to eat some dinner. I started falling asleep on the couch at 8:30 or so and was in bed by 9. I slept until 9 this morning,,,,,,,, double bliss!!

In fact you could say I slept like a baby, the big baby that I am!

We Have Dates!

We have our dates for our upcoming Donor Egg IVF cycle. Wow! It's all getting very real very quick!

It was crazy stressful for a while there because the clinic was trying to email me the info during the move when the only Internet connection I had was via my smart phone. I couldn't open all the attachments and was getting panicky. But thankfully they were very understanding and sent me a synopsis in the body of an email so I could read it. It was a huge relief!

So here's how it looks. I start my first injections on the 30th of June. In the meantime I am still on the birth control pill. I've been on it for about 7 weeks straight with no break. The good part is no period, but the bad part is perpetual PMS symptoms. I'm a crabby bitchy mess. I walk around the streets of London dying to punch someone. This is not the normal me, and I'm hoping that once I go off the pill (on the 2nd of July) I will have my period and the irritability will pass.

Then I become a human pincushion for the next month. Jabs of this, and jabs of that. Some in my stomach, some in my thigh. I must stock up on wine to help get me through this bit.

I've got a couple of scans along the way to see how I'm responding. The donor begins her medications in mid-July and the expected transfer day will be in very early August!!!

Here we go! I can't wait to get started..... well except for the whole needle bit!

*Photo by Photos8.com

Exhausted

I'm absolutely exhausted from the move. My body is tired and my brain is tired. I am achey and crampy and feeling just not quite right. My body wants me to stop but there's still so much to do that I can't.

I am tired of unpacking and deciding where to put what. I am tired of not being able to remember where I decided to put things. I am tired of not having a place for everything and everything in it's place. I'm tired of walking around in circles trying to figure out the best way to get from here to there.

The first week was a blur of movement and activity. Now all the big stuff is done and I'm left with all the small bits. In some ways this is more exhausting than the big stuff.

I've got to figure out what photos and pictures to hang where, and which ones to not hang. I've got to figure out how to make the office/work out room look like something besides a hodge podge of crap. I've got to figure out how to best organize the items in the kitchen and bathroom. I've got to figure out how to make this new place feel like home.

And I've run out of energy to do it. The first week I ran at a frantic pace, almost manic in nature. Now I've completely lost my motivation. But there's more to do and I know I won't feel settled until it's done. I hate feeling unsettled. Right now that's exactly how I'm feeling, unsettled and lonely.

Why lonely you ask? Well let me tell you. To make matters worse, I've been doing it all by myself. We have been in the new place for 8 days now and the hubby has only been home for 2 of those. He's been given a larger role at work and has had to do a bit more traveling abroad. I am super happy for him (and me since it involves a pay raise) and amazingly proud too. But the timing sucks. So I try not to complain too much because I know he already feels pretty guilty about the whole thing. Oh, and he will also have to be gone next week too. So after the weekend I'm stuck doing it all myself again.

It's a pretty big job for one person.

I am jealous of the hubby. Jealous that he has a wife that can take care of all these things while he focuses on work. It must be nice to have a wife. I find myself wondering where my wife is??? Who takes over when I'm feeling too tired and overwhelmed? When I let things fall through the cracks? I may have to follow the lead of I'm So Fancy and hire myself one.

His House

We have finally moved into our new place. It is bigger and nicer than our old one. I am crazy busy unpacking and organizing things. Trying to make this place feel like home. I know in time I will be successful and it will feel as comfortable and cozy as our last place.

Except for one thing. It's not his house.

We left his house and have moved on to one where he never was.

Where he never existed.

A fresh start? Or something else?

I feel like we have somehow left a part of him behind. My beautiful son, who we never got to take home from the hospital. He only existed in that home, not in this one.

Even though he never got to see it with his own eyes, or smell it, or crawl on the floor. He was there with us. He was alive there. It's the only place he ever had the chance to be alive.

Hearing our voices there from within my womb, living our lives, planning for him to be a part of our family. That house had hope and dreams and possibilities. All of which came crashing down on that horrible day last August when we found out that he was gone. That night when we had to come back to that home and pack for the hospital,,,, for his birth.

That place where we cried so many tears over his loss.
That place that felt so empty when we came home without him.
That place was the only place he ever was.

And we've left it.

Does that mean we've left him behind as well?

Back Online

I am finally back online. What a relief.

Who knew how much I would miss the internet and especially this place??

I can barely remember what life was like before we were all "plugged in."

Obviously I'm way behind on my blog reading. There's no way I am going to catch up and be able to read and comment on everything. Especially since I've still got a ton of stuff to do to get settled in here at our new flat.

So if you've read or written a post in the last week or so that you think I must read then please leave it in the comments section for me. 

Thanks!

Have I Mentioned That I Hate Moving?

So we are all moved in. But there is some major drama going on with BT (british telephone for you non-brits).

It's a long boring story but basically we have no phone line and no internet as a result. We also have no  satellite tv because they require a working phone line.

So basically we're screwed until BT gets their head out of their nether regions.

All I have is my smartphone which I hate typing on. So no deep meaningful blog posts until then.

I am actually not sure this will post since it's my first time doing it from my phone.

But I wanted to check in and let you know I'm still here. Highly frustrated, but here.

Moving = Time Off From Blogging

We are in the midst of moving to a new flat. This means that I will have spotty internet coverage and even less time to blog. So please forgive me if I go silent for a bit. I will be back as soon as I can.

I promise.


P.S. Have I mentioned before how much I hate moving????


I'm sure I have. : )

A Dream, If Only For A Fleeting Moment

It's been over 9 months since my son died and not once have I ever dreamed about him. Last night all that changed, I finally had a dream about my baby boy.

In the dream I was home with my Mother. We were talking about something and then suddenly I noticed something behind her. It was my beautiful perfect son,,,, alive. He was sleeping and had these amazing long eyelashes (like I have).

I couldn't believe it.

"He's alive Mom, he's not dead," I said to her. I couldn't stop gazing at him, looking all healthy and alive. He had a pinky glow to him. The kind of coloring that living babies have (which is much different than the coloring that dead babies have). I was joyful and this huge wave of relief spread over me. He wasn't dead after all. He was alive. And this whole terrible tragedy had just been a terrible dream. He was alive.

I wanted to reach out and touch him. But then I shifted from one dream to another. In this one I remembered that he was really dead.

I had seen his lifeless body.
I had picked up his ashes from the crematorium.
I had read his post mortem report.

Surely all these things wouldn't have been possible if he was alive.

So I crashed back to reality, while I was still dreaming.

I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes. Happy for a glimpse of him I suppose, but sad that the only time I will ever see my son alive is in my dreams.

He's dead, and I don't want him to be dead. I want him to be here with me. I miss him so much.

Six Word Memoir- The story behind those words

Last week I participated in a writers workshop. The prompt was to write about a significant time in my life using only 6 words. The words I chose were these.

I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat.

This weeks prompt is to elaborate and tell the story behind the words. 

I've already written the story behind those words on the My Story part of this blog. So rather than re-creating it, I am going to copy and paste an excerpt from my story which talks directly about the moments immediately before and after hearing these six horrible words. 

Here it is.

After a great pregnancy with no complications (other than the normal nausea) I was super excited to meet my baby boy. He was due in September 2010. Photos of my growing bump and ultrasounds were posted on facebook. The family came to visit me and we took a "babymoon" trip to Portugal. My friends threw me a baby shower. Our house started to fill up with baby stuff; clothes, moses basket, baby bouncer, car seat,,, you name it- we had it. We were ready to start our new life as parents.

Then at our 36 week scan it all went horribly wrong. A few seconds into the ultrasound I knew something wasn't right. Normally I could see my son wiggling and moving all over the place. This time he was perfectly still. The doctor started asking me about the baby's movements and when was the last time I felt him move. He got this horrible look on his face, I asked him why he wanted to know. That's when he said those 3 horrible words, "There's no heartbeat."

But how could there be no heartbeat? I had just felt him move right before the scan. I had been feeling him move all week. Sure, he wasn't kicking as much but that's because I was close to the due date and he didn't have as much room, right?? But they told me he looked like he'd been gone for several days based on the absence of fluid. So in fact, he had died and I had not even noticed it. I didn't know. How could I not have known??

I was completely numb and in total shock. I remember hearing my husband start screaming, "No, no, no. He can't be dead. You have to save him. Someone has to save him." The doctor was pushing the paddle hard on my stomach trying desperately to find any signs of life, but there weren't any. I could hear my husband sobbing and screaming and feel him squeezing my hand. But I was frozen, I said nothing. The doctor doing the scan called for my doctor to come down to verify. It's all a terrible blur but I vaguely remember him showing her the scan, saying something about no heartbeat and no fluid left. We were then left alone so I could get dressed and we could go upstairs and talk to my doctor about what to do next.

I made the call to my parents back in California (who even knows what time it was but I know I woke them up). Still in shock, I told them with barely a tear in my eye. I was totally numb, almost like a robot while my husband was absolutely inconsolable. I suppose it's good that we both didn't fall to pieces at that moment because there were decisions to be made.

Ultimately I decided to have an elective C-Section. I was not dilated at all and the doctor said it could take several days for any induction to work. The thought of being pregnant with a dead baby inside me for up to a week was too much for me to bear. And the idea of going through labor to give birth to my child who was already in heaven was even more unthinkable. So we scheduled the C-Section for the following day and I went home to make some more calls and get my bag packed.That night as I was trying to fall asleep I still thought I was feeling him move. Maybe it was just his body responding to my movements? Or maybe I was still hoping he would be OK.

I didn't break down until the next day right before the C-Section was about to begin. I walked into the operating room and had a total meltdown. "Why did he have to die? I want him back," I screamed. I was crying and shaking so bad I almost fell off the edge of the bed. I remember the anesthesiologist telling me that I had to calm down so she could give me the epidural. I had to sit still or she might damage my nerves. As hard as I tried, I couldn't calm down. In the end, the midwife had to lay on top of me to keep me still enough to have the epidural. Once they were sure I was numb, they gave me some sedative drugs and the rest I don't remember.

My son was born on August 13, 2010, he was already an angel.
 

Please Send Some Bloggy Love

My thoughts and prayers are with Turtle who blogs at My Baby Still. She just found out that her precious baby has no heartbeat. She was very hopeful for this pregnancy as the one right before also ended in miscarriage.

I'm sure she could use some love and support. So please follow the link above and give her some bloggy love.

Insomnia, My Old Friend

It's 1:30 am and I am wide awake. My old friend insomnia has come for a visit. I tried to fight it, tossing and turning in bed. But I learned long ago that at some point if I can't sleep it's best to get out of bed and do something else for a while before trying to sleep again. Otherwise I just end up getting mad that I can't sleep which makes it even less likely that I will sleep.

It's no surprise that I can't sleep considering we move in a week. My mind is racing with details. I've got most of the big things done now, like hiring movers, changing my utilities and my address at the post office. Although there is a slight snag with my cable/internet company which I'm hoping to resolve soon. It's one of those stupid bureaucratic things that have to do with our new address and how it looks in their computer system. In my view this is their problem not mine. But in their view it may delay the transfer of service. The thought of being without TV and internet sends me into a bit of a panic because it appears I'm totally addicted to my computer.

Tomorrow I've got to do some more shopping. Not the fun kind like shoe or jewelry shopping though. No, tomorrow I go shopping for wardrobes. We were lucky when we first moved here and found a place with lots of built in storage including wardrobes. But like many properties here in London, our new place has none. So I've got to go out and buy them. We've been in to do some measurements but I'm still unsure about exactly what size will fit in the new place. So for now I'm going to buy one just so that our clothes aren't all over the floor. Then once we get in with all our furniture I will figure out if we can fit a second one in our room. It's complicated, but I just don't want to buy something that doesn't end up fitting.

I was none too pleased to discover that my husband will require a larger wardrobe than I will. By some strange twist of fate, he actually has more clothes than I do. I know, it goes against all that is true in the world. What kind of wife am I who allows her husband to have more clothes than she does? The hubby is quick to point out that he has two separate sets of clothes. One for work which consists of suits and dress shirts, and an additional casual wardrobe. Since I no longer work outside the home, I only have one set of clothes. I now see that my one set is way too small. I must go shopping immediately to right this wrong!

But not this week because I've got too many things to do. Things that are rattling around in my head and keeping me awake.

I wish I could sleep!

Six Word Memoir

I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat.

This post is in response to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.  The prompt I chose:  1.)  Six Word Memoir:  Write about a significant time in your life in just six words.

Update on My Balls

OK, I could have come up with a better title. But it made me laugh when I wrote it, so I'm keeping it. Also, if I did actually have balls I'm sure I'd want to write about them from time to time, so there you go.

So much is going on right now. Last week I wrote about it all at length. Feel free to read if you want to know all the details. But basically my whole life is in flux.

We have some progress though! Phew!

We are going to get to move into the flat after all. After lots of stress and some negotiating, we are all set to move in a few weeks. I say a few weeks, but really it's less than that. We get keys on the 10th and hope to be moving on the 13th. So now the major moving prep begins! I've already had two estimates on the move and hope to have a mover chosen in a day or two.

I now need to get to the business of moving. I've got to call all the utilities and credit card companies to change my address. I'm working on that list now so hopefully I won't forget anyone. I've also got to get up to the post office to do a change of address form there as well. It's a bunch of little things at this point. Hopefully I won't forget anything major.

We have chosen our egg donor but as of today I still haven't heard back from the clinic as to when this all begins. All I know is that I just wrote them a HUGE check so they better get a move on and earn their money!! I feel much better knowing that we will for sure be all moved in and settled before I have to start doing injections and all that fun stuff.

The rest is still in flux. We are hoping to hear something about the hubby's new job role soon. We hope to be able to figure out if we can go home for a visit soon. I am hoping to be able to stick to a diet and exercise regime. So those balls are still up in the air,,, but at least we've been able to catch a few of them and get things settled a bit.

I feel much better, fewer balls to juggle means fewer balls to drop!!