This pregnancy I have become a master at defense mechanisms. Not by choice really, but it seems to be my standard operating mode- Full Shields Up.
I spent the entire pregnancy with Frostina being scared. Petrified would be a better word. I was sure that at any moment it would all go wrong again. I fretted and cried and fretted some more. I made myself miserable with stress and fear and worry. I'm not upset at myself about it because it was the only way I knew how to be pregnant after a loss. It was my standard operating mode.
This time around things are very different. For one thing, I have Frostina to chase around. Plus there's the international move, trying to find a new house, and getting my new life sorted here in Florida. I am busy and have much less time to sit around being scared.
But it's more than that I think. I think this time around I just can't be fearful the entire time. I can't be worried all the time that this baby will die. I barely survived a fear-filled pregnancy and I think I just can't do it again. So my smart little brain has figured out how to put the walls up and help me to focus on the rest of my life, not just the pregnancy. I have no idea how it happened or how long it will last. I may wake up tomorrow and feel completely different,,, and that's ok,,, but for now this is how I feel and what seems to be working for me.
A bit of the old me has crept back in. The old me that stayed away from sad and scary stories. The old me that truly believed that ignorance in some cases is bliss. The old me that actually allows myself to believe that being pregnant means you will be coming home with a living baby in the end. I'm not as foolish as the old me though. I do know that avoiding bad thoughts and stories doesn't protect you from having them happen. This time I am choosing to focus on the positive as opposed to hiding from the negative.
I have found myself shying away from many of my old haunts here in the internet. I am no longer drawn to every sad story of women who like me have lost children. Not because I don't care about them or don't relate anymore,,,, because I still do. But more because I don't need to connect to the pain of others the way I used to. There was a time when I craved that kind of affirmation, to know I wasn't alone. But now it all feels a bit too much, a bit too indulgent, a bit like I need to spend my time focusing on my life as it is now.
Trust me, this is not a happy, I'm over it now post. I'm so not over it. But I can't dwell on it like I used to. I can't let it consume me day in and day out. I have to do things like paint Baby Olea's room in the new house and go through Frostina's old clothes to see how many are suitable for the sunny Florida climate.
I have to move forward and live my life. And for now that means not dwelling so much on the past. Never forgetting my beloved son of course, but perhaps filing things away. Away behind the defensive walls, behind the shields. The way you put important things away in a very safe place you know you can revisit when you need to. Put away for safe keeping as opposed to being put in a frame sitting in your front room.
Dealing with the loss of a child is never easy, but it's even more difficult when you are an expat living far from home. Life will never be "normal" again and so now the challenge is to find my new normal. I am now back in the USA and the proud parent of two daughters, born using two different egg donors. "Frostina" and "Olea" are the loves of my life and I feel so grateful for the amazing women who donated their eggs and made my family possible.
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Tuesday, 13 May 2014
Monday, 19 August 2013
Happy 3rd Birthday In Heaven
My beautiful beloved little boy,
I can't believe it's been 3 years since we said hello and good bye to you. There are times when it feels like just yesterday. And there are times when it seems like a million years ago. Your daddy and I love you very much and we miss you like crazy.
I know it might not seem like it nowadays since we are so busy taking care of your little sister, but we haven't forgotten you.
You are still there... just pushed a little bit back in our minds. Not because we don't love you... but because it's not possible to focus enough on taking care of your sister while thinking of you constantly.
In the beginning it was easy to think of you night and day. But now that Frostina is here, we have to focus on her.
Please know that you are not being pushed aside. You are merely working your way into the patchwork of our lives. You have become part of the thread that holds this family together. We were not the same before you, and we will never be the same since we lost you. It is because of you that we are the strong, loving family we are today.
We appreciate everything so much more now that we know just how it feels to lose someone we loved so much. Even though we never got to know you, we love you and miss you everyday.
So while you may not be the first thing we think of when we wake up anymore. While you may not be the last person we think of before we fall asleep anymore. While we don't cry ourselves to sleep each night missing you anymore. Please know that you are still an essential part of our new family,,,, and an even more essential part of our new normal. Without you there would be no us. You will always be a very special and important part of our lives.
Oh, and I hope you don't mind that we let Frostina play with your birthday balloon for a few days before we released it. She just loved it so much and we figured you would be old enough now to want to share.
Love always,
Mommy and Daddy, and your little sister, Frostina.
I can't believe it's been 3 years since we said hello and good bye to you. There are times when it feels like just yesterday. And there are times when it seems like a million years ago. Your daddy and I love you very much and we miss you like crazy.
I know it might not seem like it nowadays since we are so busy taking care of your little sister, but we haven't forgotten you.
You are still there... just pushed a little bit back in our minds. Not because we don't love you... but because it's not possible to focus enough on taking care of your sister while thinking of you constantly.
In the beginning it was easy to think of you night and day. But now that Frostina is here, we have to focus on her.
Please know that you are not being pushed aside. You are merely working your way into the patchwork of our lives. You have become part of the thread that holds this family together. We were not the same before you, and we will never be the same since we lost you. It is because of you that we are the strong, loving family we are today.
We appreciate everything so much more now that we know just how it feels to lose someone we loved so much. Even though we never got to know you, we love you and miss you everyday.
So while you may not be the first thing we think of when we wake up anymore. While you may not be the last person we think of before we fall asleep anymore. While we don't cry ourselves to sleep each night missing you anymore. Please know that you are still an essential part of our new family,,,, and an even more essential part of our new normal. Without you there would be no us. You will always be a very special and important part of our lives.
Oh, and I hope you don't mind that we let Frostina play with your birthday balloon for a few days before we released it. She just loved it so much and we figured you would be old enough now to want to share.
Love always,
Mommy and Daddy, and your little sister, Frostina.
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Just Me And My Frosty (1 Year Later)
A year ago today I went in for a frozen embryo transfer. I had given our little frozen embryo the nickname Frosty because after years of infertility treatments you have to find ways to make things fun. Once we knew Frosty was a girl we changed her nickname to Frostina and that's still her name here on the blog.
I wrote all about that day and my feelings in this post. I was on my own and nervous, but very hopeful that day.
Fast forward to today, 1 year after that transfer and I am sitting here with our little girl in my arms. Well actually, at this very moment she's sleeping in her Daddy's arms,,,, but the point I'm making is that it worked!! I have a real life baby as a result of that frozen embryo transfer.
Somehow, that little embryo we nicknamed Frosty turned into a real life living baby.
1 year ago today I was sent back to my hotel room with a photo of a little embryo.
Today I have this amazing photo to look at.
We did these at Gymboree this week,,,, aren't they the cutest???
I wrote all about that day and my feelings in this post. I was on my own and nervous, but very hopeful that day.
Fast forward to today, 1 year after that transfer and I am sitting here with our little girl in my arms. Well actually, at this very moment she's sleeping in her Daddy's arms,,,, but the point I'm making is that it worked!! I have a real life baby as a result of that frozen embryo transfer.
Somehow, that little embryo we nicknamed Frosty turned into a real life living baby.
1 year ago today I was sent back to my hotel room with a photo of a little embryo.
Today I have this amazing photo to look at.
Sunday, 12 August 2012
The Reality Of This Baby
As I've written about in my previous posts, I've really been all over the place emotionally since Frostina was born. At first I thought it was just normal baby blues and it would pass. Then as time went by and my feelings of overwhelming anxiety continued, I realized that maybe this wasn't something I could take care of on my own.
My first attempt to reach out didn't achieve the results I had hoped. I asked my OB (consultant) who told me that this was completely normal for someone in my situation with my history. I knew this didn't seem right so I didn't stop there. I reached out and was connected with a lovely therapist who not only has an office near me, but is willing to make house visits. Considering that Frostina is only 2 months old, a counsellor who is willing to come to me is amazingly convenient.
I had my first session with her this week and got a lot out of it. It was really nice to have someone to talk to about the jumbled up mess that is going on in my head right now. I realized that I really need to be in therapy right now. We had grief counselling after our son died and I found it amazingly helpful. We had a session with a therapist as part of our egg donation program. But since then we haven't had any kind of therapy.
In hindsight I'm not sure this was the greatest idea. We endured our entire pregnancy after a loss with no professional help. The time when you would think we would need the most support, we decided to go it on our own. I did consider it a few times, but just never got around to setting anything up. So all those fears and anxieties just built up inside me.
The result? A new Mommy who really needs therapy.
I've only had one session so far but here's what I know. I don't have post natal depression, but I do have lots of anxiety left over from my traumatic past that I need to work through. The birth of Frostina has brought back so many feelings surrounding the birth of my son. The comparisons between the pregnancies, the comparisons of the births, and the glaringly different outcomes.
Even though I have grieved my son, those feelings are still there, and having Frostina here with me just highlights how much I missed out on with him. The sleepless nights are real now, not imaginary. She has become the center of our household in a tangible way, while he was always only the center of our thoughts and dreams. He was and always will be the fantasy of a baby, his life unfulfilled, while she is the reality of a baby.
The reality of a baby. A baby who cries, and has colic, and cries some more. A baby who doesn't adapt to my idea of a schedule and won't go to sleep on demand. The reality of a baby after 2 years of dreaming about my fantasy of a baby. A fantasy baby who probably would have been very much like his sister if he had lived.
I have learned that I need to set aside my fantasies and deal with the reality of this baby. I have to allow myself to enjoy her and live in the moment. To stop trying to control everything and keep on top of all things. To not be so hard on myself. To relax more and to stress a bit less. Because she is her own little person who will exert her own will. Who will eat and sleep on her own schedule, and that's OK.
So that's what we're going to be working on in our sessions. The reality of this baby. This baby who is alive and here with us. The reality of this baby and everything that goes along with it. The fun parts and the challenging parts. The reality of this baby who we have wanted more than anything, who we love more than anything, and who has brought an amazing amount of joy and happiness to our family.
My first attempt to reach out didn't achieve the results I had hoped. I asked my OB (consultant) who told me that this was completely normal for someone in my situation with my history. I knew this didn't seem right so I didn't stop there. I reached out and was connected with a lovely therapist who not only has an office near me, but is willing to make house visits. Considering that Frostina is only 2 months old, a counsellor who is willing to come to me is amazingly convenient.
I had my first session with her this week and got a lot out of it. It was really nice to have someone to talk to about the jumbled up mess that is going on in my head right now. I realized that I really need to be in therapy right now. We had grief counselling after our son died and I found it amazingly helpful. We had a session with a therapist as part of our egg donation program. But since then we haven't had any kind of therapy.
In hindsight I'm not sure this was the greatest idea. We endured our entire pregnancy after a loss with no professional help. The time when you would think we would need the most support, we decided to go it on our own. I did consider it a few times, but just never got around to setting anything up. So all those fears and anxieties just built up inside me.
The result? A new Mommy who really needs therapy.
I've only had one session so far but here's what I know. I don't have post natal depression, but I do have lots of anxiety left over from my traumatic past that I need to work through. The birth of Frostina has brought back so many feelings surrounding the birth of my son. The comparisons between the pregnancies, the comparisons of the births, and the glaringly different outcomes.
Even though I have grieved my son, those feelings are still there, and having Frostina here with me just highlights how much I missed out on with him. The sleepless nights are real now, not imaginary. She has become the center of our household in a tangible way, while he was always only the center of our thoughts and dreams. He was and always will be the fantasy of a baby, his life unfulfilled, while she is the reality of a baby.
The reality of a baby. A baby who cries, and has colic, and cries some more. A baby who doesn't adapt to my idea of a schedule and won't go to sleep on demand. The reality of a baby after 2 years of dreaming about my fantasy of a baby. A fantasy baby who probably would have been very much like his sister if he had lived.
I have learned that I need to set aside my fantasies and deal with the reality of this baby. I have to allow myself to enjoy her and live in the moment. To stop trying to control everything and keep on top of all things. To not be so hard on myself. To relax more and to stress a bit less. Because she is her own little person who will exert her own will. Who will eat and sleep on her own schedule, and that's OK.
So that's what we're going to be working on in our sessions. The reality of this baby. This baby who is alive and here with us. The reality of this baby and everything that goes along with it. The fun parts and the challenging parts. The reality of this baby who we have wanted more than anything, who we love more than anything, and who has brought an amazing amount of joy and happiness to our family.
Monday, 23 April 2012
Top 10 Things About Infertility That Surprised Me
As you may or may not know, this week is infertility awareness week. It's a week when we're supposed to reflect and share awareness of the fact that not everyone can just get drunk, have sex, and make a baby. I know, it sounds crazy if you watch TV or read the papers but it's not that easy for everyone. If you only went by what you see in the media you would think that any isolated unprotected sex will automatically guarantee you a bouncing bundle of joy at the end.
What you don't see nearly as often are the millions of couples who struggle each year to start their family. Or the ones that manage to get pregnant and then lose those babies somewhere along the way. For whatever reason, we don't like to talk about infertility. For many couples it becomes a dark secret never to be discussed in polite conversation. A shameful secret, one that elicits pity from others who are grateful it isn't happening to them.
It's also something that gets whispered about when we leave the room. "They can't have children." "They have been trying for years and no babies." "Isn't it terrible, they are such nice people." I could go on and on, but I won't. I will only say that these things have all been whispered about me and The Hubby. Oh, and just for the record, sometimes a whisper carries farther than people expect so make sure people are actually out of earshot before you say them about someone you know and love.
I could get all dark and reflective on this topic, but I'm not in the mood for that. So instead I am going to give you a David Letterman-style Top 10 list of things about infertility that surprised me.
1. I am jealous of crack addicts who always seem to be able to get pregnant and carry their babies to term.
2. When I got married, I figured that my husband would be the only one looking at my vagina on a regular basis. I have now lost count at the number of people who have had themselves a peek and a poke.
3. You will get to a point where you don't really care who is looking at your vagina, as long as they have some kind of medical degree and offer you some hope that they can get you pregnant.
4. I wish they actually found something wrong with me. The term "unexplained infertility" basically means you are totally screwed and there is no exact plan of treatment for you.
5. Even the most amorous of husbands will tire of having to "do it" on a schedule.
6. If you find yourself accusing your husband of not loving you because he doesn't want to "do it" when you're ovulating just because he has the flu, it's time to take a break from trying for a baby.
7. You will learn more medical terms and acronyms than you ever wanted to. I'm still hoping that someday they will come up with a infertility version of Trivial Pursuit so I can kick some major ass!
8. There is no such thing as a pain olympics. Anyone who struggles with infertility has experienced pain. It's not a contest, they don't give out prizes for the most failed cycles. Although if they did I would hope they would be filled with wine.
9. Getting pregnant does not cure you from being infertile. Once an infertile, always an infertile. You're just an infertile with kids.
10. If you do reach out and talk about your struggles with infertility you will be surprised to find that your infertile sisters are all around you. They can be your biggest resource for hugs and information. So don't be shy or embarrassed,,,, talk about it! It really will help.
What you don't see nearly as often are the millions of couples who struggle each year to start their family. Or the ones that manage to get pregnant and then lose those babies somewhere along the way. For whatever reason, we don't like to talk about infertility. For many couples it becomes a dark secret never to be discussed in polite conversation. A shameful secret, one that elicits pity from others who are grateful it isn't happening to them.
It's also something that gets whispered about when we leave the room. "They can't have children." "They have been trying for years and no babies." "Isn't it terrible, they are such nice people." I could go on and on, but I won't. I will only say that these things have all been whispered about me and The Hubby. Oh, and just for the record, sometimes a whisper carries farther than people expect so make sure people are actually out of earshot before you say them about someone you know and love.
I could get all dark and reflective on this topic, but I'm not in the mood for that. So instead I am going to give you a David Letterman-style Top 10 list of things about infertility that surprised me.
Top 10 Things About Infertility That Surprised Me
2. When I got married, I figured that my husband would be the only one looking at my vagina on a regular basis. I have now lost count at the number of people who have had themselves a peek and a poke.
3. You will get to a point where you don't really care who is looking at your vagina, as long as they have some kind of medical degree and offer you some hope that they can get you pregnant.
4. I wish they actually found something wrong with me. The term "unexplained infertility" basically means you are totally screwed and there is no exact plan of treatment for you.
5. Even the most amorous of husbands will tire of having to "do it" on a schedule.
6. If you find yourself accusing your husband of not loving you because he doesn't want to "do it" when you're ovulating just because he has the flu, it's time to take a break from trying for a baby.
7. You will learn more medical terms and acronyms than you ever wanted to. I'm still hoping that someday they will come up with a infertility version of Trivial Pursuit so I can kick some major ass!
8. There is no such thing as a pain olympics. Anyone who struggles with infertility has experienced pain. It's not a contest, they don't give out prizes for the most failed cycles. Although if they did I would hope they would be filled with wine.
9. Getting pregnant does not cure you from being infertile. Once an infertile, always an infertile. You're just an infertile with kids.
10. If you do reach out and talk about your struggles with infertility you will be surprised to find that your infertile sisters are all around you. They can be your biggest resource for hugs and information. So don't be shy or embarrassed,,,, talk about it! It really will help.
Thursday, 12 April 2012
A Letter To My Unborn Daughter
My dear sweet baby girl. Today I am 29 weeks pregnant with you. This is a milestone that is met with both excitement and fear. I feel guilty about the fear and sadness that has followed me through my pregnancy with you. You are a true miracle and a huge blessing. I should be shouting from the rooftops about just how happy your impending arrival has made me.
I am being given a second chance to be a mother to a living baby. You are that second chance, and yet I find myself overcome with the worry that something will happen to you, like it did to your older brother. I don't know if you know this, but you have a brother who is smiling down on you from heaven. We love him and wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him in our arms and take him home with us. Sadly, that was never to be and we can only hold his memory in our hearts.
Your daddy and I weren't sure that we could have another baby, and yet here you are growing inside me. I'm amazed at how much we already love you, even though we haven't even met you properly. I love how you seem to know when I'm worried and give me a kick or two as if to remind me that you're still there and you're still OK. I apologize that we haven't decided on a name for you just yet, but I promise you that we're working on that and will make a decision very soon.
We are already head over heels for you, sweet baby girl. Your daddy even has one of your ultrasound photos in his work planner. I think it's because he has to travel for work and wants to keep you close to him. When I saw that photo it made my heart melt. He loves you so much that we wants to be able to look at your photo while he's away and can't feel you kicking inside me. That's why it's so important that you keep growing. We need for you to be OK. We need for you to be born alive and healthy. Because I'm not sure either of us could survive another loss.
I wish that my pregnancy with you wasn't so filled with fear. A fear that sometimes drowns out the joy. Because you deserve the joy. You deserve to have parents who are excited and happy for your arrival. A happiness that isn't clouded in fear and sadness. Parents who aren't waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be told the worst possible news. You deserve that and so much more.
You deserve a mother who isn't afraid to let her friends throw you a baby shower. You deserve a mother who isn't so scared something will go wrong that she refuses to buy any baby things until after you arrive. You deserve a mother who isn't crying all the time about your brother in heaven who she misses terribly.
I don't ever want you to think that you are somehow second best, or a replacement for him, because you are not. I don't want you to ever feel like you're living in his shadow, because you won't be. But the fact is, that his death forever changed your mom and dad. We are trying our best to separate our feelings about his loss from our feelings of joy for your arrival. It's just that sometimes the lines are too blurred and we just can't manage it.
I can only hope that the day you are born alive and healthy that you can help us to heal. And that we can finally realize the joy that you will be bringing to our lives. You deserve that from us.
I am being given a second chance to be a mother to a living baby. You are that second chance, and yet I find myself overcome with the worry that something will happen to you, like it did to your older brother. I don't know if you know this, but you have a brother who is smiling down on you from heaven. We love him and wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him in our arms and take him home with us. Sadly, that was never to be and we can only hold his memory in our hearts.
Your daddy and I weren't sure that we could have another baby, and yet here you are growing inside me. I'm amazed at how much we already love you, even though we haven't even met you properly. I love how you seem to know when I'm worried and give me a kick or two as if to remind me that you're still there and you're still OK. I apologize that we haven't decided on a name for you just yet, but I promise you that we're working on that and will make a decision very soon.
We are already head over heels for you, sweet baby girl. Your daddy even has one of your ultrasound photos in his work planner. I think it's because he has to travel for work and wants to keep you close to him. When I saw that photo it made my heart melt. He loves you so much that we wants to be able to look at your photo while he's away and can't feel you kicking inside me. That's why it's so important that you keep growing. We need for you to be OK. We need for you to be born alive and healthy. Because I'm not sure either of us could survive another loss.
I wish that my pregnancy with you wasn't so filled with fear. A fear that sometimes drowns out the joy. Because you deserve the joy. You deserve to have parents who are excited and happy for your arrival. A happiness that isn't clouded in fear and sadness. Parents who aren't waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be told the worst possible news. You deserve that and so much more.
You deserve a mother who isn't afraid to let her friends throw you a baby shower. You deserve a mother who isn't so scared something will go wrong that she refuses to buy any baby things until after you arrive. You deserve a mother who isn't crying all the time about your brother in heaven who she misses terribly.
I don't ever want you to think that you are somehow second best, or a replacement for him, because you are not. I don't want you to ever feel like you're living in his shadow, because you won't be. But the fact is, that his death forever changed your mom and dad. We are trying our best to separate our feelings about his loss from our feelings of joy for your arrival. It's just that sometimes the lines are too blurred and we just can't manage it.
I can only hope that the day you are born alive and healthy that you can help us to heal. And that we can finally realize the joy that you will be bringing to our lives. You deserve that from us.
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Sleep Eludes Me
Not a chance sister!
The second I get into bed something strange happens. My tired body and mind start revving back up again. I am able to silence the mind by doing some yoga breathing, but the body will not be quieted. My sore tired body won't be still. I start getting twitchy and fidgety.
My legs want to be moving. My PJ's wrap around my bump and make me uncomfortable. My feet get cold and need socks on,,, only to then need to be kicked off a few hours later. I have to pee... I think. I try and relax again. Deep breaths, relaxing each muscle at a time.
Just as it starts working I have the need to twitch, or roll over, or pee. The spell is broken and I'm awake again. I'm soooo tired though. So I start to get mad that I can't sleep. My mind starts racing about what I need to do tomorrow, what I forgot to do today, or drifts into that place of bad memories.
Stop it! I snap my mind back in place! But the body has picked up all this new anxiety and tension and refuses to relax. So I get up because I see that no sleep will come at this rate. And I'm keeping The Hubby from sleeping which I feel bad about.
Nothing good is on TV after midnight. So I play around on the internet or read a book, waiting to feel sleepy enough to try to sleep again.
Last night that time didn't arrive until 2:30am. I tried once at 12:30, but it was in vain and I had to admit failure and get up again. So to sleep around 3am and up again in the morning at 8am. Perhaps tonight I'll be tired enough to sleep?? Or perhaps I'll let myself nap if I can. Or perhaps tonight will be a repeat of the last.
I know some will say this is good practice for when Frostina comes. My answer to that......
When I actually have a living breathing baby in my house I will try my best not to complain about not getting a lot of sleep. But until that happens,,,, Mama is tired and needs her sleep!!!
Photo from here
Sunday, 4 December 2011
My Super-Classy Infertility Glossary
Fertility treatments,,,,,,, ahhhhh good times! I don't know many people who have gone through them who don't look back in horror at some of the indignities they entail.
I know, I know,,, you will tell me that bringing home a healthy baby is worth all the needle sticking and vaginal probing. And I'm not one to disagree. If in fact I am able to bring this baby home so it can cry all night and poop and pee on me I will be eternally grateful. However that does not take away from some of the things I've chosen to endure in order to get there.
What I'd like to talk about today is the actual process of getting pregnant via these doctor-assisted means. If anyone had told me that someday I'd be injecting myself with needles and doing twice daily suppositories in order to get and stay pregnant, I'd have told them they were crazy. It truly is amazing the things we are asked to do on the quest for our take-home babies.
I have found over the years that the only way to cope with losing what was left of my dignity is to laugh and make jokes. To that effect, I have given the various bits and bobs of my infertility journey nicknames. Nicknames that I am now going to share with all of you. An infertility glossary of sorts. I should probably preface this by saying that I am super classy and so of course my glossary is full of very classy terminology (insert sarcasm here).
Still interested? Then read on, but you have been warned!
Auntie Flo- Your period, which either comes when you don't want it to. Like when you're hoping you might actually be pregnant. Or doesn't come when you do want it to. Like when you're wanting to start a new IVF cycle.
Bag-O-Meds- The giant bag you end up having to buy to house all your super-expensive IVF drugs.
Beta Test- A form of torture. You think you might be pregnant (especially if you've cheated already and peed on a stick) but you still have to take the blood test to see if your hormone levels agree. If you get a 0 then you're out. If you get anything besides a 0 then you have to test several more times to see if your cycle was a success or a failure. It's a long drawn out process and even then you end up having to wait for the ultrasound to see if you're actually pregnant.
Collection Room- The one and only sacrifice our dear husbands have to make. And when I say sacrifice I am laughing hysterically. This is the room where you hubby goes to wack off into a cup. My hubby has been in many of these and tells me that the quality of both the accommodations and reading material can vary widely depending on the facility. From the bathroom of a lab with no dirty magazines to the Rolls Royce of all collection rooms which has leather reclining chairs, porn on demand on the TV, and a remote control. He thinks that a tour of this room should be done before final clinic selection.
Egg Donor- An angel from heaven. A woman who decides to donate her eggs so that sad, sorry, grieving, over 40, infertile women like me can have a baby. I believe there should be a special place in heaven for egg and sperm donors.
Frosty- Our little frozen embryo who has decided to stick around for the past 10 weeks. I am hoping and praying that our little frosty grows into our take-home rainbow baby who will cry all night and pee and poop on us.
IVF- A process that relieves you of your future children's college money before they are even conceived. Unless you are lucky enough to have health coverage that pays for it, in which case I am super jealous and am not sure I can be friends with you!
Jabby Jab- All the injections you have to do along the way. Some are tiny needles and go into your belly. Others are large needles and go into your leg or hip muscles. Some of you have your husbands or friends do them for you. Others, like me, have to jab yourselves. Either way, they leave you with bruising, swelling, numbness, and sometimes itchiness too. Oh, and what they don't tell you is that you have to continue them even after you find out you're pregnant!
License to Carry- The note you get from the doctor that says you can fly on airplanes with all your drugs and needles. Having travelled from the US to the UK for treatment and also travelling from the UK to a few countries in Europe for vacation, I have found this note completely unnecessary. None of the security screeners I encountered ever even asked me about the mass quantities of needles and liquid hormones in my bag. They were always much more concerned with my big boobs and the fact that my underwire bra always sets off the metal detector. I got lots of extra pat downs, but never a bag search.
Mr. Wandy- The beloved vaginal ultrasound wand. This tool of joy is used for all sorts of things. To check your ovaries and follicles, to check your lining, and also to check if you have a viable pregnancy. He is usually dressed in a condom with some lube, but at one of my clinics they just stuck a bright blue rubber glove on him. Nice!
Pee Stick- The Magic 8 Ball for women trying to conceive. You pee on it and it tells you your future, pregnant,,, or not pregnant. The fancy digital ones not only tell you if you are pregnant, but they also tell you how far along you are. It is the only item I am aware of that is socially acceptable to pee on, then take photos of (to post on your blog of course), and then pass around to your friends and family to examine. Just imagine trying to pass around a wad of used toilet paper and see what kind of responses you would get.
Poking The Bear- All those hormone injections can make a girl a bit testy. At times one can feel like a raging bear ready to explode. At some of these times, The Hubby thought it was funny to say things to try and set me off. At these times I would glare at him and say, "Don't poke the bear." Sometimes it worked and sometimes he went ahead and poked the bear anyway. He paid dearly for those times.
Shoot The Cooch- After receiving the good news that you don't have to inject your progesterone in your leg anymore you may want to cheer. Until you find out that you have to use this plastic popsicle stick looking "applicator" to inject it into your vagina twice a day. I took to referring to this a shooting the cooch because cooch is such a classy word for vagina. Oh, and no one tells you in advance that sometimes this can cause spotting. Until you start spotting and freak out and have to call the nurse. Spotting is bad!!
Shoot The Pooper- After you start spotting and are sure you are having a miscarriage they tell you that the vaginal form of progesterone can sometimes be the cause of the bleeding. You sigh in relief because you know that you are not losing your baby, you just have a sensitive cervix. Your doctor tells you he will switch you to the anal form of progesterone. Good times!! Since I could no longer announce I was shooting the cooch I changed my terminology to shooting the pooper since that was now what I was doing. Amazingly, this process is not nearly as horrifying as it may sound. Or maybe I've just got no boundaries left.
Sunglasses- Another side effect of all the hormone injections is random crying episodes. I have found these episodes especially enjoyable and not at all embarrassing. Ok, I lie. I find them absolutely horrifying and terribly embarrassing. As a result, I highly recommend carrying a large pair of sunglasses with you wherever you go. That way you can pop them on when your hormones decide that crying in a grocery store, or on public transportation is a great idea.
So there you have it. My super-classy glossary of infertility. Have I missed anything? Do you have a few of your own that you think should be added to this list?? If so then feel free to add yours in the comments,,, or email me if you're too embarrassed to admit yours in public.
I know, I know,,, you will tell me that bringing home a healthy baby is worth all the needle sticking and vaginal probing. And I'm not one to disagree. If in fact I am able to bring this baby home so it can cry all night and poop and pee on me I will be eternally grateful. However that does not take away from some of the things I've chosen to endure in order to get there.
What I'd like to talk about today is the actual process of getting pregnant via these doctor-assisted means. If anyone had told me that someday I'd be injecting myself with needles and doing twice daily suppositories in order to get and stay pregnant, I'd have told them they were crazy. It truly is amazing the things we are asked to do on the quest for our take-home babies.
I have found over the years that the only way to cope with losing what was left of my dignity is to laugh and make jokes. To that effect, I have given the various bits and bobs of my infertility journey nicknames. Nicknames that I am now going to share with all of you. An infertility glossary of sorts. I should probably preface this by saying that I am super classy and so of course my glossary is full of very classy terminology (insert sarcasm here).
Still interested? Then read on, but you have been warned!
Auntie Flo- Your period, which either comes when you don't want it to. Like when you're hoping you might actually be pregnant. Or doesn't come when you do want it to. Like when you're wanting to start a new IVF cycle.
 |
| My bag-o-meds. |
Beta Test- A form of torture. You think you might be pregnant (especially if you've cheated already and peed on a stick) but you still have to take the blood test to see if your hormone levels agree. If you get a 0 then you're out. If you get anything besides a 0 then you have to test several more times to see if your cycle was a success or a failure. It's a long drawn out process and even then you end up having to wait for the ultrasound to see if you're actually pregnant.
Collection Room- The one and only sacrifice our dear husbands have to make. And when I say sacrifice I am laughing hysterically. This is the room where you hubby goes to wack off into a cup. My hubby has been in many of these and tells me that the quality of both the accommodations and reading material can vary widely depending on the facility. From the bathroom of a lab with no dirty magazines to the Rolls Royce of all collection rooms which has leather reclining chairs, porn on demand on the TV, and a remote control. He thinks that a tour of this room should be done before final clinic selection.
Egg Donor- An angel from heaven. A woman who decides to donate her eggs so that sad, sorry, grieving, over 40, infertile women like me can have a baby. I believe there should be a special place in heaven for egg and sperm donors.
Frosty- Our little frozen embryo who has decided to stick around for the past 10 weeks. I am hoping and praying that our little frosty grows into our take-home rainbow baby who will cry all night and pee and poop on us.
IVF- A process that relieves you of your future children's college money before they are even conceived. Unless you are lucky enough to have health coverage that pays for it, in which case I am super jealous and am not sure I can be friends with you!
 |
| My jabby jab survival kit. |
License to Carry- The note you get from the doctor that says you can fly on airplanes with all your drugs and needles. Having travelled from the US to the UK for treatment and also travelling from the UK to a few countries in Europe for vacation, I have found this note completely unnecessary. None of the security screeners I encountered ever even asked me about the mass quantities of needles and liquid hormones in my bag. They were always much more concerned with my big boobs and the fact that my underwire bra always sets off the metal detector. I got lots of extra pat downs, but never a bag search.
Mr. Wandy- The beloved vaginal ultrasound wand. This tool of joy is used for all sorts of things. To check your ovaries and follicles, to check your lining, and also to check if you have a viable pregnancy. He is usually dressed in a condom with some lube, but at one of my clinics they just stuck a bright blue rubber glove on him. Nice!
Poking The Bear- All those hormone injections can make a girl a bit testy. At times one can feel like a raging bear ready to explode. At some of these times, The Hubby thought it was funny to say things to try and set me off. At these times I would glare at him and say, "Don't poke the bear." Sometimes it worked and sometimes he went ahead and poked the bear anyway. He paid dearly for those times.
Shoot The Cooch- After receiving the good news that you don't have to inject your progesterone in your leg anymore you may want to cheer. Until you find out that you have to use this plastic popsicle stick looking "applicator" to inject it into your vagina twice a day. I took to referring to this a shooting the cooch because cooch is such a classy word for vagina. Oh, and no one tells you in advance that sometimes this can cause spotting. Until you start spotting and freak out and have to call the nurse. Spotting is bad!!
Shoot The Pooper- After you start spotting and are sure you are having a miscarriage they tell you that the vaginal form of progesterone can sometimes be the cause of the bleeding. You sigh in relief because you know that you are not losing your baby, you just have a sensitive cervix. Your doctor tells you he will switch you to the anal form of progesterone. Good times!! Since I could no longer announce I was shooting the cooch I changed my terminology to shooting the pooper since that was now what I was doing. Amazingly, this process is not nearly as horrifying as it may sound. Or maybe I've just got no boundaries left.
So there you have it. My super-classy glossary of infertility. Have I missed anything? Do you have a few of your own that you think should be added to this list?? If so then feel free to add yours in the comments,,, or email me if you're too embarrassed to admit yours in public.
Friday, 12 August 2011
One Year Ago Today
One year ago today a 36 week pregnant me went in for one more growth scan and found out that my son had no heartbeat. I had no idea anything was wrong and could swear I had just felt him move. But I was wrong, they told me he had been gone for at least a few days.
That was the moment that my life fell apart.
I have spent the past year trying to pick up the pieces.
That was the moment that my life fell apart.
I have spent the past year trying to pick up the pieces.
Sunday, 31 July 2011
Happy... Sad... Scared
These three words describe how the hubby and I are both feeling right now.
Happy
We got our fertilization report yesterday. Out of the 8 eggs that we were got from our donor (we did a shared cycle), 5 fertilized. Now I'm a total IVF rookie so I don't know if this is a good number or a bad one, but we are both feeling positive about it. We booked our SUPER EXPENSIVE last-minute flights to Washington DC in preparation for our transfer which is set for Wednesday.
It's so odd to know the exact moment of fertilization, when you get pregnant on your own or via IUI (which is what we did last time) you don't know that exact moment. But with IVF you do. That moment when the possibility of a new life begins. One cell that has divided into two with all the possibilities attached to it. Two cells that we hope divide into four, and so on and so on. Two cells that could perhaps grow into a healthy baby boy or girl that we could take home and welcome into our family. So much hope attached to those two cells. It's actually quite amazing when you think about it.
Sad
In the midst of all the hormone injections and fertilization reports we are also approaching a very difficult milestone. On the 13th of August it will be exactly one year since our son was born still. I struggle with what to call it. Is it his birthday? Technically yes because he was born on that day. But he died sometime before that so he wasn't alive to be born. Is it his angelversary? I suppose it's a more descriptive term but again I have a few issues with that term. I don't know what to call it, and it doesn't really matter I suppose. It is the day he was born and it will be a difficult one for the hubby and me.
Yesterday the hubby had a sad moment. I think he's been holding it all in, trying to be strong for me. But yesterday it all came out. He feels like we are replacing our son with this new potential baby. He doesn't want to replace him. He worries that with all this focus on our donor egg IVF cycle we have somehow forgotten about him. He reminded me that a year ago our son was still alive. I had a doctors appointment where we heard his heartbeat. That's the last minute I know for sure that he was still alive.
It is sometime in these next two weeks that he died and I didn't notice. "They could have still saved him then," the hubby kept saying, "He was still alive and they could have saved him." If only playing the what-if game worked. If only I could go back in time and be more vigilant, perhaps they could have.
We had a good cuddle and a cry over it all. I think we both really needed one. Especially him. I think it's so much harder for men to allow themselves to go there. To put down their walls and just feel. I love that the hubby knows that he doesn't always have to be strong for me. That sometimes I can be strong for him.
Scared
We really want those five little embryos to continue to divide and grow. We really want to be able to implant one or two of them and have it grow into a healthy, happy, living baby. But we are also scared shitless. What if we have another loss? Will we be able to handle it? How on earth are we going to be able to get through another pregnancy without losing our minds with worry? It's a huge leap of faith,,, one that we are willing to take,,,, but we're still really scared.
Happy
We got our fertilization report yesterday. Out of the 8 eggs that we were got from our donor (we did a shared cycle), 5 fertilized. Now I'm a total IVF rookie so I don't know if this is a good number or a bad one, but we are both feeling positive about it. We booked our SUPER EXPENSIVE last-minute flights to Washington DC in preparation for our transfer which is set for Wednesday.
It's so odd to know the exact moment of fertilization, when you get pregnant on your own or via IUI (which is what we did last time) you don't know that exact moment. But with IVF you do. That moment when the possibility of a new life begins. One cell that has divided into two with all the possibilities attached to it. Two cells that we hope divide into four, and so on and so on. Two cells that could perhaps grow into a healthy baby boy or girl that we could take home and welcome into our family. So much hope attached to those two cells. It's actually quite amazing when you think about it.
Sad
In the midst of all the hormone injections and fertilization reports we are also approaching a very difficult milestone. On the 13th of August it will be exactly one year since our son was born still. I struggle with what to call it. Is it his birthday? Technically yes because he was born on that day. But he died sometime before that so he wasn't alive to be born. Is it his angelversary? I suppose it's a more descriptive term but again I have a few issues with that term. I don't know what to call it, and it doesn't really matter I suppose. It is the day he was born and it will be a difficult one for the hubby and me.
Yesterday the hubby had a sad moment. I think he's been holding it all in, trying to be strong for me. But yesterday it all came out. He feels like we are replacing our son with this new potential baby. He doesn't want to replace him. He worries that with all this focus on our donor egg IVF cycle we have somehow forgotten about him. He reminded me that a year ago our son was still alive. I had a doctors appointment where we heard his heartbeat. That's the last minute I know for sure that he was still alive.
It is sometime in these next two weeks that he died and I didn't notice. "They could have still saved him then," the hubby kept saying, "He was still alive and they could have saved him." If only playing the what-if game worked. If only I could go back in time and be more vigilant, perhaps they could have.
We had a good cuddle and a cry over it all. I think we both really needed one. Especially him. I think it's so much harder for men to allow themselves to go there. To put down their walls and just feel. I love that the hubby knows that he doesn't always have to be strong for me. That sometimes I can be strong for him.
Scared
We really want those five little embryos to continue to divide and grow. We really want to be able to implant one or two of them and have it grow into a healthy, happy, living baby. But we are also scared shitless. What if we have another loss? Will we be able to handle it? How on earth are we going to be able to get through another pregnancy without losing our minds with worry? It's a huge leap of faith,,, one that we are willing to take,,,, but we're still really scared.
Friday, 29 July 2011
Kitchen Table Questions- From Glow
The lovely ladies over at glow in the woods have posted some questions as part of their at the kitchen table project. The theme is time as it relates to our grief. I'm joining in so here are the questions, and my answers.
1. How much time has passed since the death of your child(ren)? Do you mark grief in months, weeks or years? Does it seem to be going fast or slow?
It's been 11 and a half months. Only two weeks away from a whole year. In the beginning I marked the time in weeks, now I'm marking it in months. Sometimes it seems like it's gone very quickly, but most of the time it seems like it's been 10 years already.
2. Do you have an end goal to your grief? How much time do you think that will take? How much time did you think you'd need to get there right after your loss? How much time do you think you need now?
I don't have an end goal. To be honest I'm so caught up in coping and getting by that I haven't thought that far ahead. I don't think there will ever be an end to my grief. I think it's something I will live with forever. Hopefully I get better as time goes on.
3. Rather than a clear end goal, is there a milestone or marker to indicate that you are feeling grief less acutely, i.e. going to a baby shower, listening to a song that made you cry early in grief, driving past the hospital? How long did it take to get there?
I am able to look at babies without feeling like someone is stabbing me in the heart so I consider that to be a milestone. I think this has been happening slowly for the past 6 months or so. I'm also getting very broody again but I wonder if all the IVF hormones in my system have something to do with it.
4. How do you view the time you had with your child, either alive (within or outside) or already deceased? Before you all answer "Too short! Not enough!", did you have time to "bond" or develop a future imagination about what this child would be like? Perhaps depending on whether yours was cut short, how do you now feel about the nine-month period of gestation -- too long or not long enough?
I wouldn't trade the time I had with my son for anything in the world. I would however change the ending.
5. One grief book suggested that it took 2-5 years to incorporate your grief into your life. Where are you on this timeline, and you do you find that to be true?
Well I'm one year in so halfway to where this book seems to think I need to be. I don't think anyone follows the same grief timeline so it's impossible to say. I have not put any pressure on myself to get better or get over it. I am allowing myself to feel whatever I'm feeling. Some days I'm good, some days I'm not and both are OK.
6. There's a familiar saying, "Time Heals all wounds." Do you think this is true? Or do you subscribe to Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Time does not bring relief, you all have lied"?
No I don't think that's true. Some wounds never heal, but we get better at living with the pain. We find ways to incorporate it into our lives. We get to a point where it doesn't bring us to our knees. We move on in spite of our wounds because in the end we have no other choice.
7. Has your relationship with the future (immediate and far) changed since the death of your child(ren)? How about your relationship with the past?
I have always said, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." However I never realized just how true this was until my son died. I know even more clearly that we really don't know what will happen in the future. We don't have control over things. We need to appreciate what we have now because in a second it can all come crashing down. As far as my relationship with the past goes I don't think anything has changed really. I try not to let myself play the "what-if" game. I understand that the person I am today is a direct result of the past. In the present I am getting to know her all over again. I hope in time I will like the woman I am becoming.
8. How long did it take to answer these questions?
About 20 minutes. I approached this with a very stream of consciousness mentality. I simply read the questions and started typing. I wanted the answers to be my first instinct, not what I thought I should say or what people wanted to read.
1. How much time has passed since the death of your child(ren)? Do you mark grief in months, weeks or years? Does it seem to be going fast or slow?
It's been 11 and a half months. Only two weeks away from a whole year. In the beginning I marked the time in weeks, now I'm marking it in months. Sometimes it seems like it's gone very quickly, but most of the time it seems like it's been 10 years already.
2. Do you have an end goal to your grief? How much time do you think that will take? How much time did you think you'd need to get there right after your loss? How much time do you think you need now?
I don't have an end goal. To be honest I'm so caught up in coping and getting by that I haven't thought that far ahead. I don't think there will ever be an end to my grief. I think it's something I will live with forever. Hopefully I get better as time goes on.
3. Rather than a clear end goal, is there a milestone or marker to indicate that you are feeling grief less acutely, i.e. going to a baby shower, listening to a song that made you cry early in grief, driving past the hospital? How long did it take to get there?
I am able to look at babies without feeling like someone is stabbing me in the heart so I consider that to be a milestone. I think this has been happening slowly for the past 6 months or so. I'm also getting very broody again but I wonder if all the IVF hormones in my system have something to do with it.
4. How do you view the time you had with your child, either alive (within or outside) or already deceased? Before you all answer "Too short! Not enough!", did you have time to "bond" or develop a future imagination about what this child would be like? Perhaps depending on whether yours was cut short, how do you now feel about the nine-month period of gestation -- too long or not long enough?
I wouldn't trade the time I had with my son for anything in the world. I would however change the ending.
5. One grief book suggested that it took 2-5 years to incorporate your grief into your life. Where are you on this timeline, and you do you find that to be true?
Well I'm one year in so halfway to where this book seems to think I need to be. I don't think anyone follows the same grief timeline so it's impossible to say. I have not put any pressure on myself to get better or get over it. I am allowing myself to feel whatever I'm feeling. Some days I'm good, some days I'm not and both are OK.
6. There's a familiar saying, "Time Heals all wounds." Do you think this is true? Or do you subscribe to Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Time does not bring relief, you all have lied"?
No I don't think that's true. Some wounds never heal, but we get better at living with the pain. We find ways to incorporate it into our lives. We get to a point where it doesn't bring us to our knees. We move on in spite of our wounds because in the end we have no other choice.
7. Has your relationship with the future (immediate and far) changed since the death of your child(ren)? How about your relationship with the past?
I have always said, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." However I never realized just how true this was until my son died. I know even more clearly that we really don't know what will happen in the future. We don't have control over things. We need to appreciate what we have now because in a second it can all come crashing down. As far as my relationship with the past goes I don't think anything has changed really. I try not to let myself play the "what-if" game. I understand that the person I am today is a direct result of the past. In the present I am getting to know her all over again. I hope in time I will like the woman I am becoming.
8. How long did it take to answer these questions?
About 20 minutes. I approached this with a very stream of consciousness mentality. I simply read the questions and started typing. I wanted the answers to be my first instinct, not what I thought I should say or what people wanted to read.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)