A Month of Celebrations!

This week’s to do: Mentally prepare for a month of celebrations.

July is a month of celebrations for our family. Our beloved fur-baby boy turns 4 on Wednesday (7/2). I’ve included a picture of the yummy treats he’ll be enjoying when his brother Rex (biological brother that lives with my sister and her family) joins us for his party (cookies, carob pretzles, puppy kisses and p.nut butter puppy cups). There’s a fun little doggy bakery called “Waggy Tail Treats” that always does such a nice job with special occasion treats for pets. I made Duke his own carrot cake last year (substituted no-sugar applesauce for the sugar and flax oil for the vegetable oil in the recipe) but I’m not feeling as ambitious this year. I figured I’d let the pros warm up their ovens in this heat! Last year, he and Rex wore hats and played in the wading pool. I may have to plan some doggy party games for this year’s celebration. If anyone has suggestions…let me know!

The picture below (from last year's celebration) is Duke opening his gift from Rex...yummy treats and a squeaky mail truck.

We’ll also be celebrating with my “fertile sister” (expecting their second in November) and her family on Tuesday (7/1) evening, as their little guy turns 2. He’s having a construction-themed party with all his little buddies. I know for sure that there will be at least three preggo mommies there, but I’m going to put on my biggest, brightest smile and enjoy the time with nephew. And who wouldn’t be happy at a party that’s serving dirt cake?!? Mmmmm!

I’m next in line to celebrate the start of my 29th year with fireworks on Friday (7/4). I’m super-duper excited that my birthday falls on a Friday this year…you can’t go wrong with a three-day weekend! (Still trying to find joy in the simple things…and vacation fills that spot!) C. already surprised me with my present this weekend…but I have to wait two weeks for it to arrive! Booo! We already know how patient I am! I’ll post pictures when it’s finally here.

Finally, C. and I will celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary on July 30th. He has some time away from work the following week, and we’re throwing around the idea of taking a trip together. I just hate that we’ll have to plan around my HSG and follow-up treatments.

As a side note, I DID receive official confirmation that my kidneys are both present and accounted for…mailed and noted on the exact same form letter I received last week (I'm Abnormal. How About You?). I also returned to the hospital today for another blood draw…can you say youch?! I think the needle was about the size of a drinking straw! So, I guess I can anticipate another form letter in a week or two.

Thanks for the feedback I received regarding contacting the RE to look over my files. I’ve decided to wait until after the 4th of July holiday to make an appointment with my PCP (yes, the one I NEVER wanted to see again) to follow the proper referral channels. Gotta love the state of health care/insurance companies today…but we’ll leave that can of worms for a different post.

Time to put my mental focus on CELEBRATIONS!

Houston...We Have Two Kidneys!

I talked with my OB's nurse this morning regarding the cryptic letter I received on Wednesday. She was able to "translate" that I did indeed need to come in for another blood draw. She said she'd put a note in the computer and I could stop-in anytime. Would it have been that difficult to tell me that via telephone call? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm asking/expecting too much? While I had her on the phone, I figured I'd at least mention my kidney ultrasound. She said she wasn't sure if the report would have been sent up from radiology yet (it was only done 9 days ago...and radiology is a whole 5 floors away from the OB/Women's Health floor) but that it looked like a note of "normal renal structure" had been entered. Hoooooray! I think. :)

In recent days, I've been debating contacting the lone RE available in town. I'm a bit worried that it may be too premature at this point. Other than poor communication, I feel that my OB has been on-track with my Dx and treatment. The only thing that gives me pause is the hurried way in which Dr. Wonderful (OB) deals with my questions. When I had the follow-up appointment for my D and C, my OB made me feel a bit like my inquiries about uterine structure were premature. In not so many words, I was told to relax and go with the flow. Has anyone moved directly to their RE after initial diagnosis of MA? Do I need to heed the advice of my OB and just chill out for now?

And finally, a bit of reflection before I start my weekend.

Things I've realized about myself after our loss:

*I can be unbearably selfish.
*I take far too many things in life for granite.
*My family loves me more than I could have ever imagined.
*My heart is much more tender than I thought.
*It's tough (if not impossible) to look at myself from other's point of view.
*I would really, really, really (did I say really?) like to be a mommy.

I'm Abnormal. How About You?

Mail call! I just received the most *helpful* (imagine my most sarcastic voice possible) piece of information from my OB's office (see lab results above). I know it's tough to make-out the details, but it simply has a 12.7 written next to my hemoglobin and a 30.5 written next to my HcG. I love the fact that there's no explanation for the "normal" or "abnormal" status and the fact that it's next to impossible to read the comments. They were kind enough to include "If you have any questions, please contact my office." And I sure would...if I could read the signature or find the number I needed to call! :) What I think I made out is something about 2-3 weeks, which I'm assuming is a note that I need to come in for another blood draw in two to three weeks...which would be THIS week because the letter is dated 6/12. This is the same facility that I've yet to hear from on the status of my kidneys. I had a kidney ultrasound on 6/18 (see Playing the Game). Wouldn't it be great if I received the same type of form letter in the mail for those results?! They'd simply write "kidneys" on a line next to the word "other" and circle it as "abnormal." Can anyone shed some light on declining HcG levels after a D and C? I'm half tempted to take my last remaining HPT and see if I still get a positive...but I think that would be too painful emotionally. Instead, I think I'll be calling my OB's office tomorrow to schedule a blood draw for some time next week.

Other than the groundbreaking news I received in the mail yesterday, everything else has been status quo. DH is out-of-town on business and I seem to drown my sorrows in yummy food when he's gone. The other night, I was craving pizza...mmmmm...pizza. I ordered myself a large cheese pie and proceeded to eat half of it all on my own. I knew Duke wouldn't be telling anyone...as long as I shared some of the crust with him, of course! I got to the point where I physically had to walk the half-eaten pizza out to the OUTSIDE garbage so I wouldn't eat any more. It was painful...but oh so delicious! I swear, cheese has therapeutic properties.

I'm still patiently awaiting AF's arrival. My last D and C was performed on May 23rd...34 days ago. I've read that it often takes 4-6 weeks for hormones to level out and the next cycle to start. Has anyone had a long wait for AF after a loss? If it's not too much to ask for God, I'd really like to see her soon!

Finding My Sunshine

I’ve been called-out. And it was by my eternally-supportive husband, of all people.

I just received news that another fertility un-challenged college friend of mine gave birth to a healthy, happy, 7 pound baby girl last Wednesday. Baby M. was perfect in every way. The pregnancy was perfect. The birth was perfect. The nursery prepared for her at home is perfect. When I passed-along the news to my husband, I relayed all the details I knew he’d be interested in…weight, time of day born…and then I concluded my summary by telling him that I was trying to be happy for her and I think I even snuck a “La-Di-Freakin’-Dah!” in just for effect. C. glanced over at me and just said “wow,” but at the same time, gave me a look that said: “Who are you cynical, disparaging woman and what have you done with my content, upbeat, ever-optimistic wife!” As much as I don’t want to admit it, “the look” was a (painful) reality-check and a much-needed reminder. As sad as I am about the roadblocks that we’ve faced in the past four months, I need to remember to give thanks for all that we have been blessed with in our lives (which really is a huge list of things/people!). But it’s really, really difficult to acknowledge what we have been given when we’ve suppressed hurt for so long, isn’t it?

If any one of my blog readers were to meet me in-person, I don’t think they would believe I’m the same individual that wrote last week’s posts. I’ve become very efficient at locking-up all of the icky, unpleasant, sad thoughts and feelings away deep inside where no one can see them. I put on a smiling face when socially necessary, and I love to make people laugh…even if it’s at my own expense. Maybe it stems from the fact that I grew up in a small, Christian, Midwestern household that taught us to “smile and pretend like everything is OK,” regardless of life’s circumstances. We were pros at laughing-off conflict and simply avoided conversation about anything that may be emotionally distressing. Sad feelings hurt too much, and the best solution was to ignore and repress. And it worked swimmingly…for the first 20 year of my life!

I don’t want to be a cynic. I want to be happy for friends, family and co-workers that seem to be procreating at a frenzied pace right now! I particularly want to be able to hold it together when my sister has her baby this fall. I want to feel whole even if I don’t have a baby in my arms for the next year…ten years…or ever. Is this attainable?! I'd really like to find my sunshine.

Finally, I want to send-out a heartfelt thank you to everyone who visited and left comments via the Lost and Found page. Your kind remarks and words of encouragement mean so much. You each are in my thoughts on a daily basis.

Dead Roses and Mother's Day

I was pregnant on Mother’s Day 2008 and C. bought me a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He wrote a cute note on the card and signed it “Love Husband, Duke and Baby.”

At my 10-week appointment with our PCP on May 16th--the day we lost our baby, she asked if I had enjoyed my first Mother’s Day. I grinned and told her that C. had bought me roses. She smiled and patted him on the back. After our return visit to her office that day, (see: What We Have Here...) she sent us on our way, and had the to nerve to say: “At least you had a nice Mother’s Day.” Are you kidding me?! What the hell does that mean?! Sure. The fact that I had a nice Mother's Day makes the reality that our baby, along with all the hopes and dreams that we had for him/her died, all better. Thanks doc.

The funny thing is, those roses never really turned brown. They stood tall and beautifully in bloom for almost two weeks, and then, the morning after my second D & C, I noticed that they had turned a deep maroon-black hue. How perfect. Baby gone. First (only?) Mother’s Day come and gone. And now I have black roses.

According to my beloved internet friend Wiki, “In the 19th century, the language of flowers became popular. In this code, black roses signified death, or hatred. But it really meant farewell and overcoming of a long, hard journey. They were often used at funerals. A single black rose might be sent by a close friend and or loved one leaving for a war or on a journey from which he did not expect to return.”

So I guess I’m going on a journey that I’m not expecting to return from. That’s great. I’m not sure why I find symbolism in everything now. I guess it’s my way of attempting to find meaning in life’s circumstances. All I know is that I don’t want to receive roses of any kind for a really long time, and I definitely have no desire to see my PCP ever again.

Just call me anti-social godzilla bladder

I'm starting to worry that I'm becoming anti-social. I may even have to dig-out my DSM IV and see if I fit the diagnostic criteria. Busted Babymaker's post today had a few thoughts that were SO spot-on with what I've been feeling lately:

"Every time I have to act too normal for too long, engage in banter and small talk, the sheer energy it takes to do so leaves me feeling empty afterwards..."

Last weekend, for Father's Day, I couldn't even bring myself to join my (pregnant) sister and her family at my parent's house for dessert. I felt like a terrible daughter. It's been three weeks since my last D & C. I should be "over" all this by now, right?! (HA!)

There has also been a pregnancy explosion at work. Dang all these fertile women and their adorable round bellies and cute maternity clothes. Is it ever possible to get past the jealousy?

Still no word on the placement/health/existence of my kidneys. My husband joked that I probably don't have any room for kidneys because my bladder is so big. Godzilla bladder is a nickname I've earned and lovingly learned to embrace...but that's a story for another day.

Playing the Game

The waiting game, that is. Right now, I'm waiting for AF to arrive so I can scheulde my HSG. Before getting pregnant, my period was pretty regular. I have absolutely no expectations about its regularity now that my body has been so traumatized.

I'm also waiting for results from an ultrasound. Today, it was time for a kidney ultrasound! Yipeee! For those that aren't familiar with Mullerian Anomalies, about 30 percent of women with a uterine malformation will also have issues with their kidneys. Will there be one...will there be two...only time will tell!

Wouldn't you know it...just my luck...as I approached the entrance of the hospital, nurses were loading-up a new mommy in her car with the balloons, the flowers, and one brand-new, clad in pink, baby girl. Just what I needed to see today.

What We Have Here, is a Failure to Communicate!

C. is always so great at comforting me. Even as I was running through all the different scenarios that were about to take place when we reached the imaging center, and as I was on the verge of tears, he was able to take my hand, give me “the look” and immediately put me at ease. The ultrasound tech chatted with us as we walked back to the exam room… “will this be your first?” We both beamed and as we quickly answered “yes.” I found myself recoiling after what had become our automatic answer…the deep knot in my stomach tightened its grip.

The only way I can describe the preceding 10 minutes is hell. Sheer and utter hell. As soon as she placed the wand on my belly, and there was no sound, I knew. I knew it was all over and I had to summon every ounce of my strength not to start crying. She quickly switched over to the intravaginal wand…maintaining her blank stare at the screen. And then, it was over. We quickly left the imaging office and were instructed to go directly back to the PCP’s office. She would be the one to “review the results” with us. I burst into deep sobs, C. looked directly at me and said: “Don’t you even dare blame yourself. Don’t even think about it.”

We numbly walked back into the office and were ushered to a waiting room. I hated that room…it’s cheery yellow walls, tiny chalkboard with a cutsey picture of two stick figures holding hands drawn on it. At that point, I wanted to be in a black room. No windows. No lights. Because that’s how I felt on the inside. Empty and dark.

What followed was a conversation that included the words bicornuate, heart-shaped uterus, molar pregnancy and potential to be cancer, embryo no longer viable, missed miscarriage and concluded with…“We can try to get you in for a D & C yet today.” I was numb.

The clinic I was at quickly scheduled me for surgery at a near-by hospital that afternoon. I was thankful that it became such a whirlwind of running here and there because it took my mind away from the true gravity of the situation. C. called my boss and told her I wouldn’t be back in to work and contacted our insurance company to get the details of our coverage for the procedure. Once again, he was my knight in shining armor. He held my hand until the nurse came to walk me back to the OR. Two hours later. It was all done…or so we thought.

For some reason, in the hurried communication between the family practice physician and ultrasound tech that I was doctoring with and the OB that performed my surgery, it wasn't mentioned that I had a bicorunate or possibly septate uterus. Oops! Minor detail, right?! I continued to bleed heavily all weekend after the surgery and into the next week, so I was summoned back for yet another round of ultrasounds, exams and bloodwork. It was discovered that only one lobe of my messed-up womb had been cleared during the surgery the previous week. Another D and C was scheduled for that Friday...exactly one week later.

The Beginning of the End

On the morning of April 20th, I just about lost my mind when I noticed dark red blood after I went to the bathroom. I googled every variation of pregnancy and bleeding I could think of. Most of the information I found put my mind at ease. This had happened to lots of women and they went on to carry healthy babies. I told myself I'd be just fine. I called my doctor the following day and let her know what had happened. She told me to come in for a blood draw and reassured me that everything was just fine. I gave blood on that Monday and went in again and gave blood on Thursday. When I called their office Friday, her nurse simply told me my "levels looked good and they were on the rise." Gee, thanks for the information.

I sat on pins and needles until my next appointment. The only exercise I'd allow myself was walks with our dog, Duke. There was absolutely NO love for my husband. But I continued to play the part of pregnant woman. I bought new clothes. I read the books. I avoided aerosol hairspray and cleaning products and zit cream. C. and I talked about nursery decorations and my sister and I compared pregnancy symptoms. She was puking every day. I worried because I hadn't been sick at all.

Finally! It was time for my 10 week appointment...time to hear a heartbeat.

I took the morning off from work and C. planned to come with me to the appointment. I knew he was really excited to hear a heartbeat and make the pregnancy more "real." My doctor came into the exam room and asked how I had been feeling, answered questions about pregnancy and my heart murmur and then told me it was time to use the Doppler! She carefully scanned my belly and I could see the "look" on her face after a few passes. She joked that it "must be a boy" being stubborn about presenting himself. I felt nothing but sheer terror. After what seemed like an eternity, she stated that only 70 percent of heartbeats can be heard at 10 weeks. She reassured us several times that it would be OK. She also said we would be sent over to another office for an ultrasound. I noticed the order she wrote read "check viability."

In the Beginning

We knew we wanted children. We knew we wanted to wait to have them. We ASSUMED we'd have no problem. I mean, what are the chances that WE would have a problem having a baby?! Our lives were right on track...we had the house, the cars, the jobs, the dog...it just seemed natural that a baby would be next.

C. and I were married in July of 2005. We were madly in-love, and still are. He's calm and mellow, I'm high-strung and the textbook definition of a Type A personality. He likes to go with the flow, I like to plan life down to the very last detail. (Don't tell me I can't do something, or I'll be driven to prove you wrong!) Early on in our relationship, we talked casually about baby names and what our baby would look like. Would they get my long torso and his long legs and be nearly 7 feet tall? Would they inherit our messed-up ankles or my tendency to be accident prone?

In August of 2007, I ditched my BC pills, but it wasn't until November that we seriously started talking about adding a member to the family. We already had one "big baby"...Duke, our 120 pounds german shepard/lab mix, but it still felt like something was missing. It also didn't help that we purchased a home in 2006 with a room already decorated like a nursery, or that my mom purchased us a changing table before C. and I had even mentioned that we were thinking about starting a family. Yikes! Me, being the planner that I am, wanted to wait for a few months so my maternity leave would fall over the summer months. I'm also a very warm-blooded person, and couldn't imagine being pregnant when the weather was hot. (How trivial and naive, right?!) So in February of this year, we decided to start "trying" in May or June, but in the meantime, we weren't actively preventing pregnancy.

So I guess it shouldn't have been a shock to us when my period was late in March. Really?! After one month of not really "trying," we were pregnant?! All I could think of was the fact that I'd be due in December...the month when C. can't take any vacation time because of the nature of his job and the fact that I would have a baby in the middle of a frigid Minnesota winter...but most importantly...this wasn't what I had planned!

Despite the "obvious" protest on timing from me, I fell right into the role of being pregnant. I also failed to mention that my younger sister, who already has a 2 year-old son, announced that she was pregnant again and expecting in November. Fun! We'd be pregnant together! I subscribed to all kinds of email updates about the baby. I bought flowing tops and complained that I'd be gaining back the 20 pounds I had recently lost. I subscribed to Fit Pregnancy magazine and bought pre-natal yoga and exercise videos. My mom bought C. and I baby books, CD's and a picture frame for the first ultrasound pictures. C. even came home with pacifiers for the baby one day! It was all so new and wonderful.

As many other bloggers have mentioned, we couldn't wait to tell family and close friends that we were expecting. C. told absolutely everyone at work and all of his buddies. He was beyond excited to be a daddy. I told only my two closest co-workers.

My first appointment with my doctor was pretty uneventful. They did the questionnaire about our family history and took what seemed like 20 vials of blood. My doctor told me that it was OK to keep drinking my morning cup of coffee (to think that was my biggest concern about the pregnancy!) and exercise moderately. My due date was set at December 16, 2008. She lined me up with an appointment to see her in four weeks, told me we'd listen to the heartbeat at that appointment, and sent me on my way. The date was April 18th, 2008 and I was 6 weeks pregnant.