Tag Archives: loss

Where to Begin?

I’m not even sure how long it has been since my last post, because I didn’t even go to my blog when I logged in. I honestly needed a break from thinking about IF and loss. But I really feel the urge to write, and I’m hoping someone out there can maybe even give me some comforting words.

So, I am pregnant again. At least at this moment I am. This was a complete and total shock, as I haven’t had my period since 7/1 and thought for sure that I would need to take Provera to get things back on track. This was our first cycle NTNP, and it felt good to really truly take a break.

Three weeks ago I went to the doctor for hcg and Progesterone testing, which came back negative and at 1, respectively. The doctor thought I was not going to ovulate, but I had a strange feeling and decided not to fill the Provera prescription she wrote. Two weeks later, I got a positive HPT. Beta #1 was 192 on 9/3, Beta #2 was 458 on 9/5. Beta today was 1,507. This is why I need to write.

My doctor wants to see me for an ultrasound on Thursday, and right now the thought of waiting that long seems impossible. When the nurse called me today, she did not sound very optimistic. They obviously wanted to see my hcg at around 2,000, but with all of my researching this afternoon it looks like the number should actually double every 48-72 hours and that any growth over 66% every two days is considered promising. I have not given up hope, but I am worried tremendously. I had to take the day off of work, telling my boss that I believed I was miscarrying. I can’t fathom another loss, but at the same time it feels inevitable. Why wouldn’t this end in tragedy like my last? It seems like that’s the way everything is going this year.

What really gets me this time is that we weren’t trying. Isn’t that when everyone says your miracle is supposed to happen? Yes, I consider it a miracle that I even got pregnant naturally, but I want this baby so badly. It’s supposed to be born on May 10th, so close to May 7th when we lost D’s mom. It’s supposed to be the happiest moment in our lives to help ease the pain of losing Fran way too soon. Two pink hibiscus flowers bloomed each time we were in Cincinnati in the last month on D’s sister’s porch. That tree had been dormant all summer, she said. And yet here they are, each time:

I took these as a sign that everything is going to be okay with our baby; that Fran is up there working for us. I really hope that this is the case, but now more than ever I want a sign that this will all turn out fine.

I have read some blogs, or rather a blog where her hcg numbers were similar and had similar doubling times as mine, and she’s now well into her third trimester. This does offer some level of comfort, but I can’t help still worrying.

If everyone who is reading this could offer me the best, most positive energy they have right now, I would really appreciate it. I’m thinking dances, magic, huge prayers, what have you. I really need it right now.

I’ll update after my Thursday ultrasound.

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The Memorial, and a Few Lighter Notes

I absolutely meant to write here last week, but it has taken me some time to process the events of the last ten days or so.

Fran’s memorial was a little over a week ago, and of course it was bittersweet. We were overwhelmed with the amount of people who made it out to a fairly isolated lake in Ohio to celebrate her life. She touched so many people in her too-few years on this earth. I was so proud of D and his sister for the beautiful and eloquent things they were able to say in front of everyone, and so thankful that his step-sister and her fiancé (my very good high school friend) were able to attend. We definitely needed the support. My parents also came, and of course D’s father (which I know was difficult for him.)

We rented a boat in the morning with D’s sister and her husband, his aunt and her three children, and his grandmother (Fran’s mom.) We each laid a rose on her pressed-paper urn and D and his sister placed it in the water together. It was so touching and serene in that moment, yet so difficult to really say goodbye.

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I think D has more closure now, but as executor of her will he often feels overwhelmed. There are so many things to take care of when a parent passes away that it becomes difficult to really grieve the loss. For me at least, when I was helping to plan the memorial I still felt as if I was in service to her; she seemed like she was still here in a way. I had a pretty difficult emotional crash early last week and had to do something I rarely do–ask a friend for help. My best friend here, we’ll call her Kay, came over the night I needed her and was really there for me. We sat outside with our dogs and just talked about everything. She is also going through treatment for infertility, and just received a PCOS diagnosis as well. In addition to that, her husband’s father passed away a little over a year ago.

When I think about all of the good people I know who have had such awful things happen to them, I really have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. Five of our very close friends have lost a parent in the past four years. Every one of those friends though are some of the strongest, most resilient people we have met.

When I started writing this, I didn’t mean for it to be so heavy, but I suppose that’s where my heart is right now. On a lighter note, we enjoyed a very relaxing and fun weekend with D’s step-sister and her fiancé. We rented bikes for them and all rode down to see the Pirates lose in typical Pirates fashion, had a delicious meal of grilled salmon and truffled cauliflower mash, and quite a bit of white wine (oops, I totally cheated. But she’s a wine rep and was sharing so much delicious vino!)

Oh, and one more week until our official Let’s-Get-This-IVF-Business-Started appointment! I wonder what my $500 AMH test results are…fingers crossed.

More Signs That She’s Still Here

This weekend, D and I took a much-needed weekend trip with friends to a great little festival in Nelsonville, Ohio (about 15 miles from where we both went to college and first began dating.) We drank local craft beers, got stuck in the rain, ate delicious comfort food, met many interesting and good people, danced and held each other during Cat Power’s late-night set, and much more.

I will admit, I did have a few thoughts throughout the weekend about Sweet Pea and how we would have booked a hotel instead of tent camping if I were still pregnant. But they were intermittent and my mind recently has not been occupied 90% of the time with my loss and the desire to become pregnant again.

Something beautiful happened when the band that I was most excited to see came on the main stage Saturday afternoon. Lucius began their sound-check and one of the singers, Jess, sang the chorus of “Good Night, Irene.” At the time I was focused on how moving her voice was, even for a sound-check. But while walking back to camp after the performance, D admitted to tearing up when she sang that song. His mom’s middle name was Irene and she introduced him to the song when he was younger. I was, and still am, so touched to think that she’s still here and sending us signs.

Luckily for us, we were able to see Lucius perform another set in a completely acoustic, very small cabin. The setting was the definition of intimate, and although it felt like we should have been doing Bikram yoga there, it was worth the heat. I recorded an iPhone video of my favorite song of theirs, “Go Home,” which I have belted in my car on several occasions. I first heard it around the time I had just discovered I was not pregnant even though I had produced four mature follicles that cycle. The song kind of became an anthem for me and my struggle with fertility. Like I was telling my infertility to stop infiltrating every aspect of my life. I was wishing it away; telling it that I didn’t need it, and to go home.

After the performance, the band was sweet enough to stick around and talk to people, take photos, etc. D and I approached Jess and told her the story of his mom and how interesting it was to us that she used “Good Night, Irene” for her sound-check. She gave us both hugs and told us how sorry she was, but how glad she was able to show him a sign that she’s still with us. We talked for several more minutes about where we were from, etc. We found out that they are actually playing a free show at a festival in Pittsburgh in a couple of weeks, and she told us specifically to find her after the show. D and I were so touched by her kindness and genuineness that when said goodbye we both felt lightness and love.

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D and I with the vocalists, Jess (left) and Holly (right)

I would highly recommend to anyone to check out Lucius’s music and buy their EP. They have a full-length album coming out in the fall, and the wonderful thing about them is the diversity and range they have from one song to the next.

Here’s my foggy video from the cabin performance:

I’m so glad we were able to have a relaxing weekend filled with music and joy.