courage and strength and health

I thought I could stop reading baby blogs.

And I have stopped reading a lot of them. But some of them- mostly the ones where the baby is brand new, or the mom is still pregnant... those are harder to stop reading.

Why do I read them? I don't consider myself self destructive or someone who likes to be in pain. In fact, I quite hate being sad and in pain. I tend to avoid it at all costs. I think though, the blogs make me feel connected still, to the things I lost. I lost the identity of being a pregnant lady. I lost the chance to ever have my "first pregnancy." I lost my husband's nightly talks to the little blueberry and the pride and happiness and love on his face when he did so. I lost the excitement of looking forward to April of 2011, knowing that we'd be a family of 3 by then. I lost a little piece of my heart.

I lost my baby.

But I think sometimes these blogs make me feel like it wasn't and isn't so far away. Though sometimes they just make me cry; and when that happens I just click back to something less sad to read.

Also, I wish I didn't have envy of pregnant people. I don't WANT to. I hate envy; it's the ugliest emotion, and it's completely useless. I guess I have little blips of envy; not constant, but it's there every once in a while. I hate it.

Today I was reading a design blog, and since the author is a new mother, she posted birth stories every Wednesday starting when she found out she was pregnant. They were so fun to read, because every story was different, and it really gave you a sense of how you just never know how your birth will go. I think reading some of the more negative ones would scare some people, but I liked having the knowledge and I also liked seeing the strength of all those women that went through hell, and in the end, it didn't matter, because they had a sweet little baby in their arms. But today's story was different.

It was a story about a woman who at 36 weeks, had a placental abruption, and the baby died in utero- but she had to deliver it naturally, because she was losing too much blood for a c-section. She had to go through labor, knowing her baby would not be alive when it was finally born.

It sounds so sad (and it IS) but she got through it, and derived so much strength from what happened, and eventually did go on to have a healthy baby. She really really inspired me.

I realize that what I went through is COMPLETELY different. My baby was only a little over 7 weeks old. It just doesn't compare to what she went through; but I still get a lot of inspiration from hearing her story and reading about her immense strength. You'd think that it would just make me horribly sad to read it (and it did, for a few minutes) but it also gave me strength. Courage. Knowing that I can handle this. It's hard; but I can do it.

On a slightly different note, last weekend (after pizza, 3 nights in a row of gin and tonics and dinner at a pub that may or may not have included splitting a pitcher of beer with my man) I decided I was done being self destructive. You see, though I was THRILLED to be pregnant, (and I was. I've never been happier.) I always was a little sad that I wasn't exactly at a healthy weight when I conceived. It wasn't a vanity thing; it was a concern for my baby and their future health. You read all of this literature about how being overweight when pregnant has been tied to children having problems with their weight later on in life. I didn't want that. I knew that most likely my child would inherit my genes for weight struggle, but I didn't want to add on top of that. However, I was pregnant, and I just decided that I would have to be as healthy as possible during my pregnancy.

Now that I'm no longer pregnant, this weekend I decided that for my future children, I'm going to do my damndest to lose some weight and be healthier before I'm pregnant again. I've not spoken to my doctor yet, but everything I've read said that you should wait 2-3 cycles before trying again. Not sure if that applies to me, since unmedicated, my cycles can last upwards of 3 months a piece. So, I guess we'll see on that front.

Now, don't get me wrong; I ate quite healthily before, but my body holds on to weight like crazy; so when I lose weight, I have to be VERY strict about calories in and out, portions, and I have to exercise a great deal. So, that's what I'm going to do. For the next few months, I'm going to push it, hard. I am motivated and get strength from the thought of my future children, and how I want to be the healthiest I can be when I carry them, and after. I re-joined Weight Watchers, and will start exercising twice a day- 5-6 days a week. This may sound like a lot; but lets remember that I'm sitting on my butt for at least 10 hours a day (1 hour commute on the subway both ways, and 8 hours of work), so 60-90 minutes of exercise in one day isn't actually too much. And, it's necessary.

Necessary to get healthier and lose some weight, and also to distract and empower me. I always worried about getting lots of exercise while we were trying to conceive, because they say that lots of exercise can screw up your cycle. Having a fairly screwy cycle to begin with, I was worried I'd make it worse. But right now, I don't care. My only focus is health. We can't try now anyway, and I'm not sure if emotionally we'd be ready to try if we could.

So, I do this for my future babies, my husband, and me. Every day is still hard. Today has been an oddly hard day. But, after reading that birth story, and realizing this weekend that self destruction with food and alcohol isn't going to make anything better, I'm committed to being healthier. And soon, I'm sure, happier.

~M

constant reminders

So, I won't lie- it's been a rough week. Some days were easier, and some days were much, much harder. It's been just plain exhausting. I ended up going to work on Friday, though part of me wishes I'd given myself one more day. It's hard to tell if it was a good choice though, because I also think it was good to be out amongst people.

All around are little reminders of what we lost. Some are more obvious: Like the daily emails I'd get from fitpregnancy.com showing me how big my baby is, or super helpful pregnancy tips from thebump.com. Oh, or babiesrus.com reminding me to not wait to long to start registering. Unsubscribe, unsubscribe.

Then there are less obvious reminders. I babysat for my friend and neighbor on Friday and on the walk between our apartments, I started crying. Why? Because I babysat an adorable little girl? Nope. Because I was walking, in the evening, and Ian and I had recently started taking evening walks so that I could get some non-strenuous exercise during my pregnancy. I had been told not to exercise yet, so we just did some slow, evening strolls. So, that tiny walk between our apartments reminded me of those strolls.

My lovenox prescriptions on my dresser, my progesterone on my nightstand. My prenatal vitamins. My "pregnancy smoothie" ingredients in my kitchen. All the pregnancy books (which I finally put away). The roots in my hairline- showing that I haven't dyed my hair in quite some time. I can now. I couldn't before, but I can now.

Other reminders aren't so concrete. Today I lifted a moderately heavy box and didn't worry about the baby. I walk down slippery stairs and think "I hope I don't fall." Not "If I fell, I could lose the baby." If I have a headache, I can take Advil. I can scoop my cat's litter box. I'm not falling asleep at my desk anymore. That was really my only pregnancy symptom- crazy tiredness. It's gone now, replaced with the normal sleepiness that goes along with any desk job where you sit on your butt all day.

Also, I swear, EVERY TV show I've watched recently has someone trying to get pregnant, or someone giving birth or someone with a new baby. It's really everywhere. And yes, I realize that when you're aware of something like that it SEEMS as though it's everywhere, but no, really, every sitcom we've watched recently, at least 4 out of 5 have something to do with babies. Most of the time I had to change the channel.

Also, I used to read a lot of baby blogs, among other types of blogs like decorating blogs. Well, for now I've stopped reading the baby blogs, but THREE of the authors of my favorite decorating blogs are now pregnant. So, I guess I'll have to stop reading those for a while.

These reminders are both painful and something I hold on to dearly. Because they're all I have anymore. Painful though they are, they are reminders of the sweet little life Ian and I created and was lucky to carry for almost 8 weeks. I'll never ever forget how happy we were when we found out we were going to be parents. I hope we get the chance again someday, but for now, we're just getting through each day as best we can. Painful reminders and all.

pizza, gin and loss

I've been dreading this for days. More than dreading it. Thinking that writing it all down will make it hurt more. But also knowing that I wanted to write it all down for ME. So that I never forget.

So that I never forget how it felt to lose my tiny baby.

The last few weeks had already been stressful; our ultrasounds looked fine, but the hCG numbers did not. Everyone said "not to worry- if the ultrasound looks ok- that's a good sign! You saw the heartbeat! The chances are a lot lower that something bad will happen once you see the heartbeat."

I had really started to believe that. I believed that my baby was just not going by the textbook rules, and since the ultrasound was good, it was all ok. Until I started bleeding on Saturday.

I started bleeding and cramping, just PRAYING that this was one of those times they talk about that "just happens".

"Sometimes women just bleed when they're pregnant and there's no real telling why! Could be your uterus growing, could be a blood vessel popped in the placenta; could be many things." This is what it said online; in books. I believed again, hoped again; until I started cramping. All of the articles and books said "a little bleeding is ok, as long as you're not severely cramping." Oh.

Well, by Saturday evening I was bleeding a lot, and cramping badly. I called the emergency line of my doctor, and a nurse practitioner called me back ordering complete strict bed rest for the rest of the weekend, and told me to stop my blood thinners immediately. Told me to try to get in to get an ultrasound first thing in the morning on Monday.

I think my brain was battling itself about what to believe. On the one hand, we had JUST seen the blueberry on Thursday; measuring 7 weeks and a good strong heartbeat. So, how could something be going wrong? On the other hand, I was in PAIN. And I just knew this wasn't normal cramping. This wasn't just my uterus growing; it felt wrong.

I stayed in bed all weekend. It kind of sucked. Just laid there in pain, racked with worry. But Ian took AMAZING care of me. I don't know what I would have done without him. On Monday I woke up and called to make an appointment for an ultrasound, and got one for 11:45am.

I think that both of us knew something could very well be wrong when we headed out that morning. The weather sure wasn't helping things look less ominous. The skies were dark and gray and it was raining- HARD. Clutching our umbrellas and each other, we headed out for the scariest appointment either of us had ever been to. When we got off the train at Lincoln Center, we had to transfer to a bus to get across town. Heading towards the stairs to take us up to street level, we saw that it had started raining even harder. Just DUMPING water down the stairs- we waited it out a few minutes and after we saw that it wasn't letting up, we made a break for it, laughing as we ran through the rain, our umbrellas really not doing anything, trying to reach cover. Laughing about the rain and how soaked we were getting felt good; like a nice distraction.

Once we reached the ultrasound place, and I was dressed in my hospital gown and in the tiny room with Ian sitting silently in the corner- time stood still. The ultrasound tech looked at the screen, and I looked at her face. I couldn't see the screen, but Ian could. But I couldn't see Ian's face. She didn't say a thing. I wanted to yell, "can you see anything?? Is my baby ok?" but just like in those nightmares we've all had- the ones where you want to, but you can't scream- I couldn't make myself say anything. Her silence pretty much gave me my answer. She said she was going to go develop the films and show the doctor and she'd be right back. As soon as she left, I asked Ian, "Did you see anything? Did you see a heartbeat?"

He didn't. But he sweetly added "maybe I just couldn't see it from where I was, or maybe I didn't see it right." I know that then- both of us knew. But I still was clinging to hope. PLEASE. Let us be wrong.

She came out and said that my doctor would have the results in 20 minutes and that we should call them then. She didn't tell us the results. I think maybe she couldn't, because she's just an x-ray, ultrasound person- not a doctor. I think she's probably not allowed to say anything.

After I got dressed, we wandered. Killing time. Looking for a Starbucks that had seats open for us to wait. After 20 minutes had passed, I called the doctor, but they didn't have the report yet. I begged them to please call as soon as they had any news. We waited and wandered for well over another hour after that before I called again. I was cold (wet socks from the rain) and tired and sore and sad and just wanted the news. Needed to know. I also think that every pregnant woman in New York was out and walking around that afternoon, because I think they all passed us at some point.

They put me on hold and when she finally came back on the line I knew before she said anything, what she was going to say. Her "thanks for holding, Mariah" said it all. Full of sadness, pity, trepidation. I don't remember how she started it out, but I do remember my heart dropping in to my stomach when she said the phrase "fetal demise". I'd never heard that before, and it sounded so much worse than "miscarriage" to me. Like a good patient I took down notes as she told me what the doctor thought we should do next. Keep taking the progesterone so that you can hold on to the fetus. They wanted to be able to do a D & C so that they could check the fetus for chromosomal issues. If there were problems with it on a chromosome level, then that would explain why I was miscarrying. But if not; they'd need to do more research and tests to see what caused the fetal demise. Writing it all down, not really processing it.

Heading home, we were numb. I honestly don't think it had hit me yet. I just felt like a zombie. I thought something was wrong with me, because at that point, very few tears had been shed. "Why am I not crying?"

We got home and just sat on the couch- kind of frozen. Then it was decided that we needed drinks. Gin and tonics. Oh, and pizza. A little mild self destruction with crappy food and alcohol felt very, very necessary. We talked very little that evening about the baby. We had been worrying and thinking and talking about it all weekend while I was on bedrest, and I think we needed to give ourselves a break. We sat very close on the couch, holding hands, nursing our drinks and watching TV. Neither of us wanting to talk about it yet; protecting ourselves. I couldn't talk to any friends or family (though I had briefly spoken to my mom) because I just needed to protect myself a bit longer. Recapping anything or talking through how I felt at that point would have been too hard. Though, it still is. I've already had to stop several times in writing this.

At bedtime was when we both first lost it. We just lay there and cried and cried, and sobbed and held each other. That gut wrenching crying that occasionally makes no sound, but distorts your face with pain. It finally was hitting us. Loss. Our baby. The one for over a year we had planned and dreamed about, hoped and prayed for. And the one for the last month or so, we had instantly loved.

Once we had calmed down a bit, and decided to try and sleep, I was brushing my teeth and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I looked at the refrigerator, where we had proudly displayed the picture of our little 7 week old blueberry. And then I looked up at the microwave and the clock read 11:11. And I've never felt so much pain and sadness in my entire life. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. I just collapsed on the fridge and sobbed.

I will spare you the details, but we knew before going to the D&C yesterday that I had probably already lost the fetus. The very kind doctor confirmed it, showing me the ultrasound of my completely empty uterus. Informing me that though I'll continue to bleed for a while, there was no need for a D&C. I guess I was happy and sad about this. Happy to not have surgery, but a little sad that we couldn't rule out a chromosome issue as the problem.

There are so many things that break my heart about all of this. I'll never again get to be pregnant for the first time. I'll never get to excitedly call my husband and say "guess what???" without also being completely freaked out. I realize that we'll be excited when I get pregnant again, but it won't be the same. It will be excitement with extreme caution. With a huge amount of worry that we'll lose the next one too.

We had a few baby things that Ian put away yesterday. A couple of gifts and one thing I had bought on a whim. I also need to put away all my pregnancy books. I'll try to do that today.

I haven't gone back to work yet, and perhaps I will tomorrow. I feel like I have a form of agoraphobia right now. Being around other people and talking to anyone else besides Ian sounds bad and really hard. I know I'll have to eventually, but, for now it just sounds painful.

I haven't spoken to my doctor's office yet, since we got the ultrasound results yesterday. I suppose I'll need to get some "next steps" from them. How long should we wait to start trying again and all of that. Not that we're ready yet. But we will try again. I feel like wanting to be a mother opened a big hole in my heart. Just waiting to be filled. Then when I finally was, the hole grew in anticipation of the space this little one would fill in both our hearts. Now that we've lost the baby, the hole is still there. Bigger than ever.

I will never forget my first pregnancy. I will never forget the joy in my husband's voice when I told him I was pregnant. I will never forget how insanely happy I was when the nurse told me. I'll never forget all of the plans and dreams we had for that tiny one and how much we loved it instantly. I'll never forget all of Ian's "pep talks" he gave to my belly, when the numbers weren't going the way they should. I could never hear what he said, because he whispered them to the baby, but he gave them every night. Said good night to my belly every night as well, and kindly explained to the baby that I would be down there whispering to him or her if I could, only I couldn't bend that way. :)

This has without a doubt, been the biggest roller coaster of emotions I've ever been on. I know things will get better and get easier, but it will take a little time.

For now, I'm blessed to have such an amazing husband and wonderful family and friends to support us through this. Even after all that has happened, I do still realize this: Because of them, I'm a very lucky girl.

~M

ups and downs and ups

So, yesterday felt pretty bleak. hCG numbers dropped, started spotting- didn't seem good. So for my ultrasound today, I was trying to prepare myself for the worst, but once I was on the subway, and sitting in the waiting room, all I could think was "Everything HAS to be ok. It just has to. I can't handle it NOT being ok."

They told me to drink 20oz of water an hour beforehand. I may have had 32oz. You know-trying to go above and beyond. :) Um, they called me in about 3 minutes past my appointment time and I really thought I wasn't going to make it. I was going to pee all over the waiting room. And since Ian and I already looked like the poorest people in the waiting room (seriously; all the women had on designer maternity clothes and had fresh mani-pedi's and perfectly coiffed hair; all their husbands with nice suits. Then there's us in our "yes-this-is-from-Old-Navy-but-it-passes-for-work-clothes" outfits; the last thing I needed to do was make a scene and pee all over the waiting room.

Anyhoo, I didn't pee in the waiting room. But, when she did the external ultrasound, she was REALLY shocked to see how full my bladder was. She said it was so full it was 4 x the size of my uterus! Then, oh happy day, I got to pee. :)

ANYWAY... the part you ACTUALLY want to hear about (though why you don't want to read a whole post about my bladder is beyond me)... the baby is fine! It's measuring at 7 weeks (and we're at 6 weeks 6 days- way to be one day ahead, baby!) and it has a good heartbeat of 137. Wanna see??

This is how happy I am:
This has seriously been the most up and down my emotions have ever been. I'll be so excited when we pass the 12 week mark, so we can feel a LITTLE more confident.

Keep on growin', little blueberry!

~M

more bad numbers

Even though the doctor said I didn't need to get my hCG levels measured today, I decided to anyway, in case they were bad; I thought it would help me be prepared. But honestly; I thought they'd be better.

They weren't. They went back down:

Week 4- (7/29)- 462
Week 5- (8/2)- 2000
Week 5- (8/5)- 2996
Week 6- (8/9)- 3153
Week 6- (8/12)- 2851
Week 7- (8/16)- 3668

today- 2660

I also had a little bit of spotting today, which according to Dr.Google and all my pregnancy books means absolutely nothing, and also, something is wrong. But, nothing to know until tomorrow at the ultrasound. So, I guess I need to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

~M

11:11

I don't really know the background behind the "phenomenon" of 11:11. I always just heard that it was good luck if you looked at a clock and it said 11:11.

I tried to wikipedia it, and all I found was:

Numerologists believe that events linked to the time 11:11 appear more often than chance or coincidence. This belief is related to the concept of synchronicity. Other authors believe it is an auspicious sign, and others that it signals a spirit presence. The belief that it has mystical powers has been adopted by believers in New Age philosophies.

So, there you go. It's auspicious.

Anyway, about 3 months ago, I kept noticing as I was getting ready for bed, that I'd glance at the clock when it said 11:11, and I'd make a small wish:

Please let me be pregnant this month.
Please let me be pregnant this month.
Please let me be pregnant this month.
Please let me be pregnant this month.

I'd wish it until the clock turned to 11:12.

Now that I'm pregnant (probably due to all that wishing I'd guess) these last couple weeks, since things aren't going as smoothly as we'd like, I have a new wish:

Please let the baby be ok and have a long and healthy life.
Please let the baby be ok and have a long and healthy life.
Please let the baby be ok and have a long and healthy life.
Please let the baby be ok and have a long and healthy life.

I wish this over and over any time I happen to glance at the clock and it says 11:11, all the way until 11:12. I don't WAIT for it to say 11:11, I only do the wish when I just happen to catch it there.

Yes, I realize that wishes don't make things like this actually happen, but it sure can't hurt! :)

~M

photo found here

freak of nature. also? i'm tired.

Well, I just got a call from my Dr. David's office, and apparently, my body is just confusing everyone there. I did my blood tests again this morning and they went up... a LITTLE. Not to the extent where they're "normal" yet, but they went up to 3668.

Here's another recap of numbers:

Week 4- (7/29)- 462
Week 5- (8/2)- 2000
Week 5- (8/5)- 2996
Week 6- (8/9)- 3153
Week 6- (8/12)- 2851

and now-

Week 7- (8/16)- 3668

The nurse actually said "We're all baffled. We are on the edge of our seats to see what your ultrasound says on Thursday."

This both gives me hope and freaks me out a bit (you know, since not even the DOCTORS know what is going on).

Also, they decided to NOT have me do my bloods this Thursday, and instead go by the ultrasound I'll have that morning. I have to admit; although the blood hCG results were rarely good, I still got some sort of security from getting them; like we were keeping an eye on things. The truth of the matter though is that there's nothing you can DO about the numbers. So, knowing sort of helped in that you felt like you had a slight window into what was happening, but I guess I didn't really.

My progesterone (the other level they measure weekly) was at 21.7, which is smack dab in the middle of normal. This is good; but also baffling, as I'm now taking 400mg of progesterone a day, whereas when I started, I was taking only 200mg. Anyway, I may ask them to measure that on Friday, just so we can stay on top of that, because that IS something you can do something about.

So... good-ish news? No real way to know, honestly. We're just going to hope for the best on Thursday.

In other news? Holy BUH-JEEZY I'm tired. No, I'm not surprised at all, because I know that's a major symptom of pregnancy in the first trimester. But man, it sure is hard to stay awake, since I sit pretty much all day. I try to take frequent breaks just to get up and walk around, but I'm still super tired. I took two, TWO, naps this weekend. It was glorious. I now love naps. I didn't used to like naps, because they always left me feeling groggy, but now they just are awesome. I wish they did nap time at work. I would be an active participant.

~M