Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month - October

We don't have to remember our babies,

We will never forget. 

One thing positive that has come from my losses is the wonderful support I have gotten, not only from friends and family (even those who I rarely spoke with beforehand), but from an awesome group of ladies that I have come to know and hold dear to my heart.  We've never met outside of the Internet, but they are my family now, as we share a bond that not many can understand....we are mommies to sweet angel babies.  It's not a group anyone would chose to belong to, but it sure is helpful and inspiring to know these women and they have become my greatest support.  We can talk about anything and everything for weeks, months, even years, and we understand each other's pain.  We know that months down the road, we are still healing, physically and emotionally.  We all know the pain is still there no matter how long ago the experience.  We all know that there are days that seem better... and days where you somehow relate a car insurance commercial to the loss of your little one and fall to pieces.  I could not be happier that I found the wonderful group of women that I have to go through the journey with, but at the same time, it is really sad that broken women, women who are hurting and struggling to make sense of things, women who are grieving, women who are trying to get their bodies medically back on track....are the ones who have to band together to support each other; to give themselves when they need giving.  This subject needs to become much more talked about and out in the open.  The loss of a baby is just as hard, if not more difficult, than the loss of a parent or friend, in that we have to go through the physical healing.  We have to go from being with, growing, and loving our children 200%, counting down the days until our face-to-face meeting, dreaming of our lives to come, which have changed forever with this little blessing - to being empty, hollow, heartbroken, overwhelmed, grief-stricken, and struggling to find a way to accept that which we cannot change.  The constant reminders, the worry, the fact that there usually are no answers, the fact that OUR bodies did this somehow...it's a long road.  We need the support that anyone else is afforded from the death of a loved one.  We want to talk about our babies and know our babies were cared for and loved by not just us, but by everyone.  They were real, precious angels.  

Hysteroscopy

I had the hysteroscopy this morning.  I was worried about seeing my womb/uterus empty, but after the initial pain of the insertion of the camera, I was drawn to the screen.  It was really engaging to see a part of my body that, granted, lost four of my babies, but also bore me three of the most amazing children a mother could ask for.  To see the two holes that are the entrances of my fallopian tubes into the uterus, it hit me that this was where my three children's lives had began.  19 years ago an egg actually came out of one or the other, and I became a mother.  It's surreal.

The good news is that everything was beautiful.  There were no issues that should cause a miscarriage.  The bad news is...still no answers why I've lost my babies.  The more we talk, the more it seems like a chromosomal issue had something to do with losing Andrew, since his heart rate was high up until he died on the 4th of July at 14 weeks.  Maybe due to distress, but we'll never know.  I also found out that there were only 8 out of 23 chromosome tests done because of an issue with the machine not reading the rest of the slides or something.  Of course, my old doctor never had the decency to tell me this herself, even though I was calling every two weeks to inquire about the results.  When they finally had them, she didn't even call me, I called her.  Her response was that "everything was normal."  Her time will come.  I'm still waiting on my reimbursement and then I will start fighting.  Anyway, my previous loss, Lily, was tested for all of them and all were negative, so it was the bleed that caused her loss, which is unrelated.  They all seem to be just luck of the draw-type issues, so hopefully this will be the end of it and I will have a decent shot next time.  The doctor sees no reason why I shouldn't because we can't find anything wrong to begin with.

I did get to come home with copies of my insides.  I threw the doctor off a bit by asking if I got copies, but she was thrilled that I was as interested and amazed as she was by it all. No one had ever asked for pictures before.  Leave it to me.  It was also nice that for the first time in a long time she called me "normal."  We both agreed that is rarely a word used to describe the uniqueness and complexity that IS me.  It felt good. :^)

Roller Coaster of Emotions...

I've been doing better...on the outside, anyway.  I'm keeping it together more, holding back the tears, not feeling such a sucker punch when I see pregnant women or babies...I'm getting there.  Don't get me wrong, I still have days where all I do is cry every time I have a moment alone, but the pain is lessening to an extent.  Today, however, has already been a tough one, and it's only 10 a.m.  I hurt my arm yesterday and can't move it, so the stress and strain of that makes my emotions that much worse, I think.  I had an appointment this morning with Dr. Thomas.  I was in the exam room, alone, staring at the ultrasound screens and I couldn't breathe.  I had numerous ultrasounds done of both Lily and Andrew, expecting them to be okay, watching them grow and flourish....I'm going to be sick.  I still remember through the bleeding episodes with Andrew, everything seemed to be fine and we couldn't find the source of the bleed.  I remember the day that we hugged and teared up because I was graduating from her office to my regular OB at 10 weeks.  Now, I am back to that room...back to the beginning.  Trying to find answers.  Trying to understand.  Dreading what is about to be shown to me on the screen now.  An empty womb.  The baby is gone.  It is like an echo of my heart right now...empty, black, hollow...staring back at me from the screen.

The good news is, the last of the tissue was gone.  I had 24 follies already, so looks like things are starting to get back on track.  I am going back in Friday for an OH, where they guide a camera up into my cervix and uterus to look for anything structural that could be an issue, or any scar tissue...especially since I had the damn pointless D&C from the incompetent OB.  I also had a bunch of labs drawn, so I'm praying for answers, but at the same time, I'm praying that nothing is wrong.  Do I want answers or do I want nothing to be wrong?  How is that for a decision?  If the house is burning down, do you save your dog or your cat?  How can you possibly choose between those and not be conflicted and stressed?  I swear I feel like God's test dummy.  I see him up there poking needles here and there and just looking down at me quizzically, wondering how much one person can take.  Let's give her money problems here, bill collectors that are screwing her over right there, let's rev up the pain levels a few notches and jack up her arm, make her an emotional mess, throw in some fatigue and more stress, make sure all these extra bills come up so she can't afford a massage to help with the pain, oh yeah and make sure her daughter needs a few shots for school and a checkup with her outrageous insurance co-pays that way she has to figure out how to make that happen...and....GO!  I literally feel like my life is a joke to whatever powers that be have control over it, and no one can change my mind about it.  Unless you have been through this mess that just keeps piling up, then it won't do you any good to try to convince me I'm wrong, no matter how well-intentioned the attempt.

So, I just wait for labs to come in.  Wait for the test on Friday and hope for the best and hope it doesn't hurt too bad since I can't tolerate medications.  Wait for the game plan, then wait....just wait.