The Mind of Olivia Drab


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Archive 6: "Prayers Lost"
07.06.04 (8:07 am)   [edit]
Archived from 06/08/04

I have never been a religious person per se. But since I was a child, I prayed. I always believed there is a God, and that God was a caring and loving guide over all living beings. I would pray that my outdoor kitty would be safe from harm. I would pray that my Dad would be safe when he would go away on business trips. I would pray that my flights would be "safe takeoff, safe flight, safe landing". Usually, my prayers were honored. My kitty came home safely when the can opener would alert him to dinner. My Dad's plane would land safely. My plane would safely take off, fly and land.

One day, Brad and I went for a bike ride. It was 5 days after I ovulated. I felt an incredible pinching ache in my lower abdomen. Came and went. Implantation... I knew that was what it was. It had been a particularly HARD bicycle ride and I was terrified I had done something terrible to my unborn child. I begged and prayed to God that my baby not be taken from me because of something foolish I had done. I cried, and begged.

Days later, I got my positive pregnancy test. I thanked God for this. I thanked God again and again in the ensuing weeks as betas doubled, ultrasounds showed heartbeats and my tummy was nauseous. I thanked God and I continued to pray and beg God to please let this pregnancy be safe and healthy and normal, and that my baby is safe and healthy and normal. Every morning, I checked for blood. When I saw none, I thanked God and prayed again. It was a ritual, but I always meant it.

Then Friday, I saw the blood. I felt no nausea. I was scared.

Once again, through the insane tears, I prayed. In the quiet darkness of our master toilet room, I cried and begged and prayed that God PLEASE not take away my baby. Please let this child be a normal, healthy baby. Please let this pregnancy go to term and be safe and healthy and NORMAL.

I felt somewhat calm. I felt that everything would be ok.

Hours later, I felt very foolish when it was revealed that my prayers were answered. And the answer was "no." That months of praying was for nothing. I wondered if there is a point at all. Then I wondered if I had just prayed for too much. Maybe there is a prayer credit limit.

"Oooh, I'm sorry Ms. Drab. But it looks like you went over your prayer limit with 'Normal'. I am afraid we will have to cut up your card." *snip snip*

And then again, there's always the possibility that I was always praying to no one. That option, while appealing to many, leaves me feeling very vulnerable and alone. I am a scientist by nature. I've never been a theologian, but I would consider myself spiritual. Everything in life can be explained, heartily, by science. But I would also suggest that everything scientific has a spiritual equivalent. I think one idea of God is perhaps an incomprehensible force of energy that the mind can wield. I typically apply a human face to it, however, because I am a human and we are self-centered by nature.

I can't decide which is worse, however. To have NO ONE there to answer and grant prayers, or to have someone there to answer prayers but who will deny you something for no apparent reason.

*snip*

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Archive 5: "Glimmer"
07.06.04 (8:06 am)   [edit]
Archived from 06/07/04

Monday

I am still here. I am ok.

Friday was the worst day of my life. I wasn't sure I would come out of it.

Saturday was mostly spent on a Vicodin-induced haze with frequent rounds of uncontrolled sobbing.

Sunday was slightly better with less crying and less drugs. But Sunday night was rife with uncomfortable bloating and achiness.

Today was much less crying, but a lot more bloating and achiness. So much so that we went to the Ob/Gyn for our followup #1. An exam revealed that everything was physically healing as it should, but the bloating was from the digestive paralysis incurred from the codeine. And there are still these infernal stabbing cramps from hell. They've been with me since the beginning of the pregnancy and NO ONE has been able to tell me what they are. Until today.

The new Ob/Gyn is a nice lady. She has this strange facial tick that stretches her face into a contorted grin, interrupting her speaking from time to time.. but after training ourselves to not stare directly at the grin, we realized she is very knowledgeable and very caring. And had her act together. And had some very hope-inspiring things to say.

First, she thinks the cramping is the damnable fibroids that keep coming back to haunt me. They must go.

Second, she thinks that this miscarriage was for a totally different reason than the others. Her belief is that the hormonal/drug cocktail that I was doing (read: progesterone and aspirin) is the right combination and that the miscarriage was a result of a chromosomal malformation (bad dumb luck). Whether this is a permanent and recurring issue, who knows.

Third, she is encouraging me to pursue the aforementioned hysteroscopy/laproscopy to find and fix any and everything that can be fixed. This, she believes, is a must. I can do this over the summer while on a break--when I feel I can handle it.

But overall, I left her office feeling better. Feeling like there may possibly be a chance sometime in the future. Don't get me wrong, I am not engulfed in warm fuzzies and full of confidence, but I don't feel hopeless either.

I also asked her for a birth control prescription because this isn't something Brad and I want to deal with until at least after the new year. It will be a while before any of this comes into play. I will still be gun shy for a long time. It is nice to know that a tentative plan is in order, though.

I do want to thank everybody who posted comments. It does help in HUGE amounts to know there are people who care and sympathize. I think you are all wonderful and hope for the best for every one of you. Thank you thank you thank you. From the bottom of my heart.


Tuesday Morning

It is Tuesday morning, and the roller coaster continues. Today's hill is "rage". I can't seem to shake the fury at myself for the gamut between allowing myself to be duped to the inability to provide my husband and myself with a healthy baby, fury at the doctors I had throughout the pregnancy (up until the ones since Friday who've been wonderful) who practically left Brad and I on our own, with little to no support or help, fury at whomever controls our destinies---or if there is no one controlling our destinies. Pure red-hot rage. The urge to hit something repeatedly has NEVER been stronger.

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Archive 4:"And so the rug is yanked..."
07.06.04 (8:04 am)   [edit]
Archived from 06/05/04

I found myself in hell yesterday.

It started at 7am, when I went to insert my morning dosage of progesterone. Lo and behold. Spotting. Knowing full well that spotting is perfectly normal in any pregnancy, especially when on baby aspirin, I felt a dark, cold cloud cover my shoulders.

In the last week, my symptoms had begun to fade. I was no longer sickened by the smell of popcorn in the company microwave, or by any of a thousand smells that had previously sent me running out the door. My boobs had gone from allover soreness to barely sensitive. I had played this off as the fact that I was nearing the end of first trimester and sometimes that happens, symptoms fade and a new chapter begins.

Well it seems that life is not without a certain sense of irony. In fact, a new chapter DID begin.

I woke Brad and told him of the spotting. I wanted to go to the ER to make sure that everything was still progressing. We arrived at 8:30 am.

A pelvic exam indicated that the cervix was still tightly closed. But he did notice the spotting. He ordered an ultrasound. A nurse pushed me through the hospital to the ultrasound lab where I waited for a good fifteen-twenty minutes with a very full bladder.

I wish I had been content to wait in that chair for a lot longer.

Although the ultrasound tech would say nothing, the ultrasound revealed my nightmares. There was no heartbeat. The baby had died a little over a week ago and my body was failing to fully recognize that fact. I started crying. I looked to Brad and could see the sorrow reflected back. We both wanted to get up and run away, out of the hospital and away from the truth.

But the nightmare had only just begun.

Upon returning to the exam room, we spoke with the doctor about our options. I had to sign my baby away on a piece of paper declaring my consent for a d&c. I felt that I had just been stabbed in the heart.

Because I had been on aspirin, I had to endure a bleeding test to make sure I wouldn't bleed to death on the operating table. They sent in Satan's neice, the chirpiest, most clueless lab tech on staff. And they obviously failed to let her in on what procedure I was having done.

Confusing my mournful sobbing with a tearful fear of the needle, she kept squawking "just relaaaaaaaax, just relaaaaaaaax.." over and over in this shrill Minnie Mouse with strep voice. Then proceeded to tell me to go to my happy place *which made me cry more--my happy place was about to be evacuated surgically*.

Then the wise sage told us with a peppy giggle that "Ya know, whenever something bad happens to me, I think back to something bad that happened two or three years ago and JUST CAN'T remember why it seemed so bad at the time."

I almost punched the woman in the mouth. Fortunately the bitch left.

The next step was being hooked up to an IV and administered a drug that made me cramp, while it softened the cervix. Three or four hours later I was in surgery and the last nine and a half weeks erased.

And now I am just me in this body. And it will likely remain that way. I cannot bear to put myself or Brad through that kind of heartbreak ever again, and given my reproductive history--I can't see any reason why future endeavors would be any different. At least that is how we feel for now. Perhaps that will change down the road.

For now, I am just trying to climb back out of hell.

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Archive 3: "If you can't laugh at crazy, scary pregnant women, who CAN you laugh at?"
07.06.04 (8:02 am)   [edit]
Archived from 06/02/04

Scene: Grungy white 2000 VW Jetta, cruising down the highway at 75mph. The radio is tuned to a middle-of-the-road rock station. Pink Floyd, "Another Brick in the Wall" is playing.

[SUV nearly cuts Ollie off]
Ollie: [fist shakes] DAMN YOU!!!!

Pink Floyd:

When we grew up and went to school,
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could

By pouring their derision
Upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids..

Ollie: [sudden tears] Oh that's so true!!

*blink*

[insane laughter]

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ARCHIVE 2: "Angst Rising"
06.16.04 (7:03 am)   [edit]
Archived from 05/27/04

When we met the perinatologist yesterday, I was hoping for the warm fuzzies that followed the first meeting with my 2nd opinion RE. I expected my hope for this pregnancy to be boosted or accelerated, since this is, after all, a new milestone.

That is not how I felt.

What I did feel is a new sense of dread and fear. Not once in our conversation did I feel encourangement or positive reinforcement. I didn't come away feeling that she knew deep down that this baby would survive.

What I did interpret, what kept me tossing and turning all night, was that I should still be very afraid. What I felt she was saying:

*I could still have a dangerous blood disorder that is waiting for the right moment to attack my unborn child.

*I should seek counseling for the obvious future of a chromosomally abnormal child.

*Above all I should spend the entire pregnancy terrified that it won't last another day.

Now, my rational mind doesn't believe these things. I feel that things are probably ok. I made it this far, and that is saying a LOT. But I also don't believe doctors have the right to even plant the seeds of doubt in an already fragile situation. I think it was heartless to toss out these suggestions. I know it is her job to do what she deems necessary to ensure a healthy pregnancy, but for all things holy, there is such thing as TACT. You can be cautious and make suggestions while still assuaging fears.

I felt none of that.

I left her office feeling uneasy. As uneasy as I felt a few weeks back when I was spotting. When she asked if I was cramping, and I said yes, she seems at first alarmed. I described the cramping and she went back to her notes without explaining her alarm.

Something about the meeting just didn't feel right. I didn't think I should come away with more fears than I had going into it.

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ARCHIVE 1: "Ma'am, please put your pants back on.."
06.16.04 (6:58 am)   [edit]
Archived from 05/26/04

We met the perinatologist today. Very nice lady. Ran through the records, made notes, chatted a bit.

And not once did she ask me to strip down naked. It was a little disappointing.

I suppose I have become accustomed to doctors and my own nudity going hand in hand. I expect it. I have to resist the urge to strip from the waist down when going to a dentist.

What she did say is that there are three blood tests that were missed by both REs. One is Factor V Leiden! One of the Lord Kings of F'ed Up Blood Tests! Yeah, so I need that one, one that I can't remember, and one of the Blah Blah Thrombin Blablah.. I started blacking out when she said "More blood." I have given enough blood in the last year to supply a Vampire Festival. The last thing I want is to roll up my shirt sleeve to give MORE blood.

Ah, well.. It determines whether or not I begin to cultivate "Heparin Ass" any time soon. If any of the results look like they are tempting the spectrum of bad blood, in with the needles and the baby aspirin.

Another thing she requested is a consultation with a Genetics Counselor. For a couple reasons. One, because our miscarriages may have been due to a genetic misfiring, but two, because there is Downs Syndrome in the family. Crossing t's, dotting i's.

Our next appointment is June 16. That's when we meet the Ob. Shortly thereafter, the nuchal translucency test. So many things to do in the month of June!!

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New Blog Home!
05.22.04 (11:54 am)   [edit]
Here it is in all it's glory, my new bloghome. No popups, either.. Booya!

[url=http://www.oliviadrab.com/blo...]The NEW IMPROVED Mind of Olivia Drab[/url]
 
...and the Winner Is:
05.21.04 (10:11 am)   [edit]
BLOGGER!! I went with Google's own blogspot. My new blog is in its infancy, so I need to get the links up and running.

More to come...
 
Bloggity Bullshizzle
05.20.04 (9:44 am)   [edit]
I am pretty damn tired of my blog always being down. I am shopping for a new blog host. I would ask if anybody has a recommendation, but seeing as how my comment field isn't working these days...

It's a head scratcher.
 
Dream Psychology 101
05.18.04 (4:28 pm)   [edit]
[i]"I've got dreeeeeams to remember..."[/i]
-Otis Redding

I am fascinated by my own subconscious, and taken to frantically attempting to interpret the droplets of thought patterns that drip-drip-drip from my mind. Often it is a cryptic series of events that I will likely never decipher.

A common recurring dream involves a theme park. Each dream, the situation is different. My guests are always different, or sometimes I am alone. But the theme park in its vastness remains a constant and I always know my way around the park without a map.

Occasionally, the visit is thrilling. Fun rides, good food, laughter. But then there is the dream that is anything but fun. Rides in which I am not properly strapped in, or alone in a park at night and unable to get back out. Strange themes emerge.

I've never fully interpreted those dreams, although I suspect the theme park represents my life as a whole. The guests are literal--the people in my life. What happens in the park depends on the events of my everyday waking life.

It fascinates me that it has been such a recurring event in my dreamworld, since I was a teenager.

Occassionally, my dreams stray from this symbolic world to other, often more encrypted worlds. Sometimes they take a much darker and apparent direction, the anxiety inside them frightening me when I wake.

Last night was such a dream.

I was at work. Brad called my cell phone asking if I could pick him up from work. I agreed. I had to drop off a package at someone's house on the way home first.

I arrived at the house, left my purse in the car and ran up a flight of stairs. She wasn't home so I left the package inside a ceramic jar on the stoop.

When I returned to my car, it had been robbed. My wallet stolen. My belongings strewn out across the parking lot. I crumpled to the ground and wept.

My cell phone rang. Brad, asking where I am.

I regained what composure I had left, got back in the car and picked him up from work. We drove to our house, which was surrounded by police cars and surveillance teams. No one would offer an explanation for why they were there. I was furious and demanded they leave immediately.

Upon entering the home, I discovered my mother was throwing us a surprise baby shower, diapers everywhere. I became hysterical because it was too early and I couldn't bear the thought of a shower at this stage.

I awoke with a start. The meaning was all too clear. Anxiety, anger over having been probed and examined for years for no apparent reason, precious belongings taken away from me beyond my control... and the baby shower at the end. All the while, Brad reminding me that he is STILL HERE.

Damn, the subconscious is scary.
 
1881 Women's Care
05.15.04 (2:23 pm)   [edit]
Brad and I went to a rare/used book store this afternoon as I was succumbing to the urge to own a copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting". They didn't have this book, but they had plenty of other jewels.

I was skimming some old leather-bound medical journals and found a book entitled "A Handbook of Uterine Therapeutics and of Diseases of Women", published in 1881. OF COURSE I had to read it.

I read some of the scariest shit. It made Stephen King and Dean Koontz seem like Dr. Seuss and A.A. Milne. Allow me to paraphrase:

"For a woman experiencing morning sickness in a pregnancy, the best option is administering an opiate..." Of course. What else do you do with a woman bitching about throwing up if you are a well-to-do gentleman of the 1880s? Drug her out of her mind, of course.

"Vaginitis: Women experiencing severe cases of vaginitis are prone to irritability and malaise," (ya think, bonehead?) "It is effective to administer an injection of LEAD." LEAD!!! An injection of LEAD for a yeast infection. I guess they didn't have yogurt in 1881.

I will allow that to sink in for a moment before hitting you with my favorite treatment solution.

Ready?

"Uterine fibroids may become large and can cause bleeding and irritation. To reduce the bleeding, apply leeches," (LEECHES!!!!!!) "to the cervical tissue."

WAAAAAHOO!!

It is a freaking WONDER that the human race has survived through this kind of Dr. Jekyll'ian experimentation.

I feel proud to be alive in 2004 knowing that my doctor isn't going to shoot me up with lead and apply leeches while I am in my opium-induced stupor.
 
"A Dream Is a Wish Your Uterus Makes: One Woman's Struggle"
05.14.04 (7:21 am)   [edit]
I have been searching my mind's vaults for the perfect words for a blog entry, trying to think of something witty, wise and touching. Every time I start to compose my thoughts though, the direction is straight out of a Lifetime Channel original movie plot.

"I stared into my husband's deep blue eyes and felt a wash of love unlike anything I've ever known. Through the joyful tears, I wondered if our child would have his eyes or mine."

It describes the moment, the sentiment, to a T. But it also sounds very unlike me. More like the Danielle Steele side of me, one I didn't know existed.

Nevertheless, there is a switch that is thrown the moment you see the steady little flicker of light on the monitor and the doctor says "That's your baby's heartbeat." You DO turn into a Lifetime movie. Suddenly Tiffani-Amber Theissen is lying on the ultrasound table, spread eagle. Her voice is the one narrating your "journey from darkness to light". Except you're cheerfully living this movie, not gagging on the dimestore dialogue.

The next step is that you feel like the Fertility Bunny and you want to visit all the good girls and boys you know, dropping a colorful cellophaned basket of this feeling into their homes. Sort of a strange mutation between Lifetime and the Cartoon Network.

"Here comes Ollie Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail. Hippity Hoppity, babies on the waaaaay!"

Really. Random coincidence, good luck, baby dust, magic uterine elves, WHATEVER the fuck it was, I seriously hope to infect everyone who wants it.

Come and get it. The rest of the 90210 cast need jobs.
 
The Blog Entry I've Been Waiting to Compose
05.12.04 (2:22 pm)   [edit]
*cough*

Heartbeat. We saw a heartbeat. A beautiful, peppy little heartbeat.
 
A likely drama
05.09.04 (4:57 am)   [edit]
I began mentally writing a screenplay for a television drama series last night.

[i]Reproductive Endocrinologist Time Traveller[/i]

In the pilot episode, a modern RE comes home to discover her eccentric physicist husband has discovered a way to make time travel possible. Zaniness ensues and she becomes the first time traveller.

She visits Katherine of Aragon, the first wife of Henry VIII. She learns that she has multiple miscarriages. She begins running tests, all the while staying under the radar as "The Queen's Midwife". She discovers that Katherine has an autoimmune disorder and covertly discovers Henry has a chromosomal issue. RE adminsters a crude aspirin therapy to Katherine and sneaks antioxidant food items into Henry's menu. Katherine gives birth to many healthy children, male and female, and the royal couple live happily ever after. No women get their heads chopped off.

In subsequent episodes: she visits the Biblical Rachel and teaches her to manage her PCOS to go on to produce many children; the court of King Louis and Marie Antoinette, where she disovers King Louie has a hydrocele, which she repairs one night when he's passed out on wine; and to the court of Catherine the Great, where she encourages Catherine to seek sperm donors to continue the Romanov line.

It's a work in progress.
 
Mania Stage 9: Pull Self Up By Scruff of Neck and Shake
05.08.04 (4:08 am)   [edit]
I have had an evening of rest, a night of deep sleep and a full day of LOTS of thinking. E called me last night and it made a big difference just talking about it to someone. Then I reread my blog and thought, "Sheesh. Drama Queen."

I am scared. I won't deny it, I am scared out of my mind. But being scared isn't going to change the outcome. If anything, it might make things less safe for the little one.

So here's my plan. I am going to attempt to relax. I am going to do my best to maintain a positive outlook, say my prayers before bedtime, drink lots of water, eat my veggies and talk to the little stubborn ball of energy that is doing his best to survive and beat the odds. I will be my future child's biggest pep rally. Most importantly, I will hope that all the bad signs I have had in the last couple days are just boring, common crap that lots of pregnant women go through and the kid is still deeply embedded for a nice long 9-month hibernation.

And every time I freak out, I will drop a coin into a big money jar. Makes a good trust fund.

I wonder what stage 10 will be...
 
"Stop her!! She's an Impostor!!"
05.07.04 (12:34 pm)   [edit]
I would like to rewind and play back a quote from my very mind, " I vow this to my unborn child and to my husband that I will enjoy every single minute of this pregnancy, even if it is short-lived."

Truth is, I am not enjoying it because my mind won't stop.

Yes, I am thrilled to be pregnant. Yes, this is a dream that I dared to dream for years. No, I wouldn't trade this for anything.

But I am terrified.

After being given the news that my uterus possibly has a fetus-murdering irregularity, I have lived in a daily fear that today the dream will end. Each morning I am thankful to still be pregnant and each day I wonder, "Is this the last day?" But up until today, I really had no concrete evidence that it would come to an end.

Until today.

"Clear discharge is ok. If you start to see blood or spotting, that's different. If it is just a smear, it's probably ok," the triage nurse told me.

What do I fixate on? "Probably".

Today I had yellow discharge that has progressively changed to a brownish tan. Does this qualify as "smear" or "spotting"? The boobs aren't sore, I don't feel nausea. Are these among the seven signs of the fetal apocalypse?

The heartbeat ultrasound isn't until Wednesday. I can go see my doctor Monday, but what would that do?

I cannot stop the worry. And at this point, there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. And that makes me feel helpless and small and weak.

I feel like an impostor.
 
Zany Haze
05.05.04 (10:45 am)   [edit]
I am walking around in a happy little fog.

We had our 2nd ultrasound this morning. I expected bad news because symptoms were waning this week.

My friends, it was good. It was better than good. It was perfect. The perfect little gestational sac and the perfect little yolk sac (which the Dr didn't even expect to see today) were both in place in the perfect spot, deeply within the lining.

She turned the ultrasound monitor so I could see, and I cried. The kind of tears I was denied for two years.

I am stone in love with this dark blob on a fuzzy black and white picture.
 
Passing the time
05.02.04 (7:36 pm)   [edit]
I have three more days to go before I get ultrasound #2. In the meantime, I have found things to do to keep my mind occupied.

Sleep. I sleep a lot. I lay down on the couch to watch TV and instanly visit snoreville. I arrive to class a few minutes early so I close my eyes and visit snoreville. I sit at my computer at work and... yep, start to nod off, visiting snoreville.

I harass Brad frequently. Why? He needs to remember to take his vitamins. He needs to make an appointment to have his cholesterol checked. He needs to cut back on slamming the strawberry milk. Nothing he doesn't already know, but I just want him to be healthy and that fact is amplified by my raging hormones and coming intrusive doctor visits.

I also bemoan the nasty house. I don't feel like getting up and cleaning anything, but I sure do bitch about it. I compile logical reasons why a maid is a good idea.

Movies. My Chinese doctor suggested non-action happy movies but happy movies are stupid. No happy movie every REALLY won an award. "Uplifting" doesn't count.

Whale Rider, excellent movie. BUT! It was technically a drama and had plenty of tearjerking moments.

Forrest Gump. Uplifting, sure. But lots of people died. I know what love is, Jen-ny.

I can't think of any others right now. I just know that I cannot honestly recall a movie giving me warm fuzzies that didn't immediately follow with gagging on the fuzzy leftovers.

I think I need to sleep.
 
The Good, The Bad and The Befuddling
04.29.04 (11:15 am)   [edit]
We had our first post-positive appointment with the RE today. We were shocked when she took us to the ultrasound room. We didn't expect one today.

We found good news and potentially bad news.

The good news!! The pregnancy looks GOOD! It is deeply implanted, a little bigger than she expected and is overall fantastic! If this was a Fertile's pregnancy, it would be "picture perfect" with no reason to worry. And we got a teensy little baby picture to take home. Little fella is barely a centimeter wide.

The bad news... we now know, with almost 100% certainty why I have had all of my miscarriages.

I have a previously undetected irregularly shaped uterus. She doesn't know if it is arcuate or septate, but it is one or the other, definitely has a slight heart shape. If it is arcuate, this pregnancy will likely be just fine. Breech/c-section is likely, but healthy.

BUT...

If it is septate, there is an 80-90% chance it will fail within the next few weeks.

If it does fail though, she will do surgery and correct the shape and I shouldn't have a problem again (theoretically). So the bad news has a silver lining, if you look at it just right, through crystalline bleary eyes. I am FURIOUS with my 1st opinion RE for never catching this very important detail.

The "woods" don't end for another 8 weeks. That's a long time, and a LOT of waiting. Our next ultrasound is Wednesday at 7:45am.

One baby step at a time.
 
The Line
04.29.04 (4:35 am)   [edit]
With the results of the two betas doing what I hoped for and my visit to the RE today to learn our next step, I find myself increasingly torn.

I am happy for me. I am happy for Brad.

But there are a lot of people for whom I want more. Many of whom I consider very good friends, although we've never met. People who deserve this happiness as much or more than I do.

I still have the kneejerk reaction to pregnant women, especially pregnancies of the Fertiles, those who breathed differently and got pregnant without a single worry. I still envy them their peace of mind. "Oh, I worry about my pregnancy," they say. Sure you do, honey. But fortunately, you don't have a clue what worrying TRULY means.

I have this reaction to pregnant women, and then I remember the envy I had while still trying. The difference is huge. And then I think of my friends who are still trying and I feel an incredible wave of guilt and remorse. I wish they were all in this situation, and I am always going to be pulling for them in the largest capacity my thoughts allow.

I just don't feel that is enough.

It is a fine line between sharing your good news and hurting those you love very much. I apologize from the bottom of my heart when that line is crossed. It is now your turn, and I won't stop wishing for that.
 
Unfamiliar Ground
04.27.04 (2:26 pm)   [edit]
My 2nd beta doubled.

211.

I am in a quandry. A happy, joyous, confused, terrifed quandry. I have grown so accustomed to being the "Average Non-Threatening Angst-Ridden Infertile" I honestly don't know how to handle this change in course. I am sure I will figure it out, but until then...

WOW. My mind's a blank.
 
History
04.27.04 (4:46 am)   [edit]
While I am waiting for Beta #2 to arrive, I thought I would give a history of our journey to this point.

I wanted children from an early age. My mother remembers me telling her I wanted a baby when I was not quite two years old. She thought it meant I wanted a sibling. So she gave me my brother, Donnie, who became my best friend (although I mommied him to a spoiled state.)

As I got older, my mindset changed.

When Brad and I first got married, we swore that neither of us wanted children. We liked sleeping in, we loved hogging the video games to ourselves, we loved seeing R rated movies whenever we wanted. It suited us. Besides, kids are dirty, they always seem to have crud around their noses and they are loud.

That was then.

What changed this was a birthday and a death in the family.

Brad turned 30 the year his father passed away. It was heartbreaking and resonated loudly that life is fleeting. We realized our mortality and that all the little reasons for not wanting a child were selfish and misdirected.

Truth was, we both wanted to be parents after all.

So in December 2001, we embarked on the trials of trying to conceive. All you do is stop the birth control and then you have a baby.... right?

Boy were we arrogant.

A few months went by with nothing, then in April 2002 I got pregnant. We were relieved because after ALL THOSE THREE WHOLE MONTHS, we were scared we were never going to have a child. Yeah, 3 whole whopping months, what amateurs.

It didn't matter, though. Before I ever got a reasonable beta, my period arrived. I was sad, but you know, this happens sometimes and the next one is just fine!

So we waited the obligatory one month to ttc again, then started with the temping, the OPK'ing, the fancy contortions suitable to conceiving, blah blah..

I got pregnant again in July 2002. This one gave me a postive pregnancy test. I called my doctor's office and her nurse said:

"Oh we don't need to run a blood test, the positive urine pregnancy test is OUR BIBLE around here."

Satisfied with this answer, we proceeded to tell everyone we knew.

I started cramping the next day, so I asked for a blood test. After the blood draw, I used the hospital restroom and VOILA! Blood. I freaked out and told a nurse. Her response was a cold, "Oh, it sounds like you are miscarrying!"

Reality hit me in the jaw with a firm right hook. This wasn't as easy as it looked on TV. I was devastated, and telling the hoardes of people it was over was even harder.

That was when I found the support boards. It was the only thing that kept my sanity in check. I found a community of women who had been through the same things I had. They answered all the questions I had, and helped me start to repair the shabby, torn edges my emotions had developed. Before long, they became close friends.

It wasn't until December 2002 that I got pregnant again. This time was assisted by Clomid and Prometrium. It was Christmas, and we were in Dallas, Texas, visiting my family. I got the +OPK on Christmas morning. We robotically completed our task of baby-making sex before going to Grandma's house. Brad was sick with a severe cold, so we were positive that it didn't work.

Lo and behold, two weeks later a positive pregnancy test! I felt pregnant. Nausea, dizziness, the stretching-pulling-aching . The first beta was 25. Not terrible. Progesterone was 109!!! HOLY CRAP!!

Having been burned by the last pregnancy, we told no one. Good thing too. The second beta, three days later, was 48. It went downhill fast from there. The pregnancy was gone as fast as it had arrived.

I went into a deep depression. I missed school, I missed work, I withdrew from society. Brad had become sullen. He chose to not dwell on the losses as his means of coping. I envied that capability. I would cry in the shower. I would cry in the car on the way ANYWHERE. I would collapse into a crumpled heap in the bed with the curtains drawn and cry for hours until I was dehydrated and my eyes were swollen shut. I was a wreck.

Once again, my support board helped me back on my feet. These faceless friends from all over the globe talked me back up. The whole stage played out from sorrow to fury to fear and desperation. They were there to tell me it was ok to feel this way. That was all it took.

That was when we were referred to our first RE. She gave us hope, and gave ME a shitload of tests. Lots of blood tests, lots of intrusive, humiliating and painful tests... lots of tests. They found nothing but a few trifle "borderline" causes which they treated me for.

In the meantime, I got a job with a company that was primarily composed of highly prolific women. Pregnant bellies EVERYWHERE!!

I got pregnant after we were "released" from our medically-induced conception break. Wow, I thought. This new job is contagious!! Know what happened? I got pregnant in July 2003. We were in Dallas, Texas, visiting my brand new beautiful nephew, Donnie's little boy. We told Donnie and his wife about the pregnancy.

And then lost it right after pregnancy test #3 told us the pregnancy was biological crap. I never made it to beta #1.

That was when two of my internet-support board friends encouraged me to try acupuncture. I started in September of 2003, the month I turned 32.

My Chinese doctor told me to take a break from trying to have a child. My body was worn out and needed a rest. I couldn't have agreed more. She worked me over, healing my asthma, healing my blood circulation, healing the physical damage all the miscarriages had taken on my body. I felt confident.

We started trying again in December 2003.

Then many of my friends became pregnant at once. BAM! Without warning. I hadn't even had so much as a glimmer of a 2nd line on any tests. I knew this was a sign. There was no way my body would support a pregnancy. I was toast.

I went into the deepest, darkest depression I had ever known. I couldn't be happy for anyone's pregnancy as fully as I had in the past. Every ounce of happiness for them was met with two-fold envy and self-loathing. My emotions were a cancer that was feeding on my self-esteem. Crying for no apparent reason became common. Some call this stage "Rock Bottom". Someone I have grown to respect deeply told me it is the stage where you mourn your fertility. She was completely 100% on the money.

What turned me around? Brad.

We went on a much-needed vacation to Sanibel Island, Florida, in March 2004. We had a great time. We drank, we sunburned, we slept... a lot. But one huge turning point occurred that weekend.

While laying on the beach, Brad and I were watching a small family playing frisbee. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the mire that he wanted me out of, but Brad turned to me and said "One more year, if we aren't pregnant, let's look into adoption."

I started thinking and becoming hopeful again.

When we got back home, we had a long talk and I realized what a nightmare I had become. I didn't even like myself anymore, how could anyone else stand me? I hadn't even realized what a dreadful toll my own emotions had taken on my husband. I vowed then and there to feel more positive and not let stress get to me anymore. I vowed to not to take for granted the important things in my life anymore.

I felt good again.

That was when we saw our 2nd opinion RE. She was the glue that helped make firm the vow I'd made. She said everything I needed to hear: there is still hope.

I started being more dedicated to following the advice of my Chinese doctor. I forced myself to not dwell on negativity anymore (that was hard as hell at first.) I made myself laugh again.

Even if it meant cynical humor.

Then someone incredible happened this week. I can't even begin to fathom the possibility that any of it is coincidence.

I know that this pregnancy could end, just like the others did. I know that I could get my hopes up only to have the rug yanked out from under me. I live with this fear every second. But I vow this to my unborn child and to my husband that I will enjoy every single minute of this pregnancy, even if it is short-lived. I feel that I at least owe this to the little cluster of energy that has been trying for so long to grow inside me.

And that brings us up to date. I hope the next chapter can keep this momentum.
 
BETA!!!
04.26.04 (10:46 am)   [edit]
Holy P Diddy on a Pogostick!!! My first beta is 106!!!!! I am stunned by this!!! Never ever ever have I gotten anywhere close to this. The best I have ever had was top 40s and that was a 2nd beta.

I get the results of the very important 2nd beta tomorrow. Fingers crossed for a doubling act.

*whew* This MIGHT happen... ?
 
The clock is ticking veeery slowly.
04.26.04 (6:27 am)   [edit]
Here's an update. I still dont have my beta results from Saturday, should get them today when I go in for my 2nd betas. Meanwhile, I am still getting ever-darkening HPTs and for the love all that is good in the world, my basal temps are still high. And I feel like vomiting.

Oh, and I am still terrifed.

May 5 will be the big milestone. That is, making past the date of my longest sustained pregnancy to date, December 2002, which lasted a grand total of 37 days (from period). Will I succeed it? If I knew that answer, I'd be a rich woman from all the horse track bets I placed.

I will keep you posted as I know more.
 
Everyone who is terrified, raise your hand.
04.23.04 (1:12 pm)   [edit]
*hand shoots straight up*

I just got a positive pregnancy test. *gulp* Terrified.... scared shitless... FLOORED. I honestly did NOT expect this, this month. Really. This is the first time I have had a positive pregnancy test since last July. Holy shit.

My beta is scheduled for 8:30am tomorrow morning. Please wish me luck, I need it.