Tag Archives: pregnancy

Relief

Huge relief. That was the theme of yesterdays ultrasound.

D and I arrived about a half hour early in hopes that we would be able to have everything done early. Luckily, they called us back within about 15 minutes. I was an absolute nervous wreck, but I managed to hold back tears until we saw it–the gestational sac–in the right place, at the very top of my uterus! We were only able to see the gestational and yolk sacs at this point, but that’s all the doctor was hoping for.

It was measuring 5 weeks 3 days, which is about 2 days ahead of my calculations. Thank goodness.

Now another two week wait until the next ultrasound at approximately 7 weeks 1 day. This will be the viability scan where they’ll be looking for a heart beat in order to release me to my regular OB/GYN. I think I can actually relax a bit from now until then.

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.

Ectopic

Yesterday, at 6w4d pregnant, I had surgery to remove an ectopic pregnancy from my right tube. It had a heart rate of 98 bpm and was measuring 5w5d.

Despite never having had surgery, it went well. They were able to save my tube. Needless to say, however, we’re taking a big long break and going directly to IVF in 6-8 months if we can get the okay.

I can’t decide yet if blogging this whole experience has helped me or anyone else, because things have just gotten worse since beginning, and I don’t have many followers.

I may or may not continue; we will see. If I have helped anyone, please let me know. I also plan on documenting the ectopic in more detail as well, in hopes that someone who may be scared about surgery can learn.

For now, I have some closure. Sweet Pea has a “birthday” and it was March 29, 2013. Rest in peace, tiny one. You are very much loved and missed.

Another Ultrasound

Tomorrow if the pain in my abdomen hasn’t subsided, I have to go in for another ultrasound. On the one hand, imagining reliving that hell again scares me, but on the other it might be good to have a less traumatic (hopefully) ultrasound in case I ever become pregnant again. If that happens, I would want to have had some sort of experience between the ultrasound in between the one where I found out I was having a miscarriage and the next time I’m pregnant.

Hopefully I have some more news tomorrow, apart from having to just wait for this to start happening. I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to wait two weeks.

Waiting, and Getting Through the Day

I was able to make it through a day at work without bursting into tears. I honestly thought that I had spent them all in the past two days. However, when I began walking to my car at the end of the day, tears started streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably. I did my best to suppress the real crying on the drive home until I got through my front door.

Today it’s the addition of incredible physical pain to the already incredible emotional pain that I’m having a hard time dealing with. The cramps are debilitating even when I’m just sitting, and I’m so bloated that I look 16 weeks pregnant at least. Still no blood. Not even a drop.

I’ve been reading a bit about medically induced miscarriages and how painful they can be, and I’m wondering if letting it happen naturally will be less painful. It got to a point today that I called my doctor, but neither my regular doctor nor nurse was in, so I spoke with someone who seemed quite incompetent. I kept asking if what I was feeling was normal, and she said that it varies but to not take any ibuprofen “just in case” the baby was still alive. What?! I told her that I had been told I would definitely miscarry and that I was already taking 800 mgs of ibuprofen. You know how she responded? “What, are you asking for something stronger then?” She made me feel like a fucking drug seeker.

Honestly, yes, if the pain gets any worse than it already is, I will need something stronger, but I’m waiting until my regular nurse is back to ask so I’m treated like a patient who has spent thousands of dollars at their clinic as opposed to someone taking advantage of her situation to get pain killers. Give me a fucking break.

It seems that even medical professionals don’t know how to deal with these situations.

I just keep praying that this whole thing starts soon, because I’m not sure how long I can continue to have pregnancy symptoms while waiting for my body to rid itself of poor Sweet Pea.

It’s Over

Yesterday my worst nightmare became a reality. After two years of struggling to conceive, I found out my baby is not growing. I don’t know when it stopped growing. I have always read things like “it was measuring a week behind,” but the doctor didn’t say anything along those lines. I actually don’t remember a lot of what she said, except that this was likely going to end in miscarriage. Then the nurse, the woman who called me excitedly with my beta results, came in and gave both my husband and I a hug and said “I’m so sorry. We were so close.”

When I woke up yesterday I really didn’t feel pregnant anymore. I haven’t had many symptoms, but I just chalked that up to the fact that it was early (6 weeks.) I had been extremely anxious all weekend about the first ultrasound, because I’d never been to that point before. We drove to the clinic through the strangest spring snow storm and the parking lot was completely full. We had to wait about ten minutes for someone to leave. I was called back almost immediately and intake nurse took my height, weight, and blood pressure and explained that if things go well then I’ll be sent home with a magazine about how my baby is growing and a guideline of what not to eat and drink. We then were escorted back to the ultrasound waiting area and sat mostly in silence while images of new babies popped up on a screen in the hallway. After 30 minutes had gone by I thought “I can’t be waiting this long just to hear bad news. Everything will be okay.”

After an hour of waiting for my ultrasound I was called back. I got situated on the table and the technician inserted the wand and explained that she would be able to tell me what she saw. After a few moments of silence she said “I’m having a hard time seeing anything so I’m going to check your ovaries now.” I felt the familiar motions of the wand and knew when she had stopped checking my ovaries and had gone back to my uterus. It was painfully silent in the room as I squeezed D’s hand tightly. Tears began to stream down my face as I asked what was going on. She turned the screen to face me and said “I’m not finding anything in your lining,” and showed me where, at the very top of my uterus, it looked like there was a tiny black dot. “It’s too small.” I began sobbing and apologizing, thinking that this has to be the worst part of this woman’s job, and wondering how often she has to deal with situations like mine. Judging by her slightly confused and upset face, not very often.

She left the room to let me get changed and from behind the curtain I said “it’s over,” through choking sobs. D, ever the optimist, said to wait to hear what the doctor said, although he later admitted to crying throughout the ultrasound when neither he nor the technician were seeing anything on the screen. We were led to a consultation room and a doctor that I’ve never met before came in to explain that nothing was found, that they would do blood work to confirm this, but I was going to have a miscarriage.

In a very strange way, I felt some relief in that moment. Relief that it was happening now, and not much farther into my pregnancy. That feeling is completely gone now as I wait to begin bleeding. Everything that I thought and said yesterday that was optimistic is now gone. I was told we can begin trying as soon as I get my “period,” except that it isn’t a period, it’s the remains of a dead baby that needs to be expelled from my body. And the worst fucking part of it is having to wait, and not knowing when it is going to happen. Every time I go to the bathroom and it hasn’t started yet, I feel angry. I’m angry that not only has my body betrayed me by not allowing this embryo to grow, that now that it has stopped growing it won’t get rid of it.

I’m going to say something here that I haven’t said out loud, and haven’t even admitted to myself. When the nurse called to give me my beta numbers yesterday, they were 1040 (edited: after seeing my chart yesterday, it was actually 1432), which she said was too low for six weeks pregnant. I’ve read here that the low range starts at 1080 for six weeks. There is this tiny part of me that wonders, “what if Sweet Pea keeps growing?” which I know is naive and unhelpful. I just can’t allow myself to think that, because I cannot continue to be devastated. I’ve stopped my progesterone and know that I should begin bleeding soon. They’re going to check my hcg levels again next Monday to make sure they’re dropping appropriately.

When I was at the clinic yesterday the intake nurse mentioned how busy they were, and that they had 16 intrauterine pregnancies (I’m assuming these are non-IVF babies) these past two weeks. I can’t help but wonder if I was the one unlucky woman in that group. I’m sure statistically there had to be one, and it just happened to be me. After reading several conflicting statistics about miscarriage, the one that seemed consistent is that 5% of women miscarry twice, and 1% more than two times. I wish I could say that this fact is comforting, but I have a hard time with it because there are no guarantees.

The most difficult part about all of this is the decision to keep trying. I know that I have to keep trying, because I don’t want to give up on myself and my baby, but I know that there may be more heartbreak involved. This is so scary, but I know that my future baby is worth fighting for. I’m making myself vulnerable, and therefore opening myself up to the possibility of both love and suffering. Isn’t that what we all do throughout our lives?

Now I wait to be able to start again.

ETA: we took to calling this embryo Sweet Pea, as we thought it was cute. Now that I think about it, though, it died at about the size of a sweet pea. No, naming it this did not cause it’s demise, but…I suppose in retrospect I won’t be calling future embryos nicknames that relate to size.