Glow

I had an interesting encounter this afternoon.  I was just leaving work and a co-worker stopped to ask me if I am pregnant.  She said the past few times she's seen me, I've just seemed like I'm "glowing", so she had to ask.  I told her no, but we are planning on adopting and just started our foster-adopt training classes this week.  Her response:  "Well, that must be it.  You are pregnant then!"  We talked briefly about being "expecting in adoption" and how I'd read about that in an adoption book this week.  It was such a pleasant conversation and just one more reminder of how much better I'm feeling these days.  A couple of months ago, a comment like that would have completely destroyed me.  I would have cried all night over that one.  But instead now, it was such a positive thing and so encouraging to know that others can even see a positive change in me.

Deep, Dark Fears and Secrets

I was just sitting outside, enjoying a nice sunny day in my backyard reading a book.  Before I came back in, I took some time to stop by each of my babies' plants to talk with them.  It was peaceful and pleasant.  I spoke to them by name and cleaned the dead leaves and cobwebs off them, like a good little mother.  And I felt good doing it.  I actually didn't feel sad, not a tear in sight.  And that, my friends, is an amazingly good feeling.

Then I got to thinking back, in contrast, to a very different night about a month or so ago.  Shannon and I had a fight.  Over what, it doesn't really matter.  What matters is that I was still in the midst of my grief, was still so wrapped up in being so sad and lost that I couldn't see past it.  What matters is that I ended up completely breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably in a fetal position on the bed.  He came to me and asked what was wrong.  And he meant, really, what was wrong, what was truly going on in my head.  So, finally I broke down and shared with him all my deepest, darkest fears and secrets that I hadn't shared with anyone through all of this.  I know he hates to see me cry and doesn't like to see me weak and suffering, so I usually hide this front him and hold it all inside.  But that night, I finally opened up and let him in.

I told him how I'm so afraid it's my fault that we lost all the babies.  That I did something, either physically or cosmically, to lose them.  That it scares me to death to imagine that each of them was perfectly healthy, but it was my body that failed each and every time and they could not live because of me.

I told him I'm so afraid that even after all this trying and fighting to have a baby, once we do have children, it won't be enough for me.  That I'll be a failure.  That I'll still have this empty hole inside of me.

I told him I still think about the babies each and every day.  That the necklace I wear every day makes me think of them because when my mom gave it to me for Christmas, we had only lost three so far and the necklace has three butterflies on it.  How I kiss it (now four times) every so often during the day and tell them I love them and miss them.

I told him how I go talk to the babies at their special plants in the backyard sometimes.  How I call them by name.  How I've secretly named each one of them and never ever said their names out loud to another living soul.

I told him how I don't like myself lately.  That I'm not sure where to turn.  I'm not sure where to focus my energy.  Nothing I do feels good enough anymore.  I've let everyone I care about in my life down.  I'm a failure in every sense of the word.

And through it all, he was there for me.  He held me and comforted me and didn't freak out when I told him all these deep, dark fears and secrets.

Then he left the room to let me splash water on my face and collect myself, but then surprised me by coming right back and asking me to tell him to names of the babies.  It felt so strange to say their names out loud.  He had me say them over again several times and to explain why I'd chosen each name for that particular baby.  And he began to cry too.  Sweet, loving tears.  And hugged me close and truly was with me in the moment of our unique shared losses.  I felt heard and validated and understood and that means more to me than I could ever express.

Ever since then, I've felt better.  Lighter.  More hopeful.  Like I've turned a corner and can finally start to more forward.

Recently Shannon and I were sitting on the couch together, watching TV and I told him "I'm so happy being married to you lately."  He asked why and I didn't have a good response.  He said "I think it's because you're finally happy with yourself again."  And wouldn't you know it, he's right.

Baby Shower

I went to that baby shower this afternoon.  Through most of it I felt fine.  I forced myself not to think about my losses and to focus on the joy of the occasion.  And it was joyous.  But then while she was opening her gifts, it got harder.  Seeing all those adorable little things-- the tiny diapers, the sweet little onesies-- started to break my heart a little bit again.  I felt tears spring to my eyes and my heart start to race.  I just had to push all that aside for the time being.  But I finally let myself cry once I got to the car.  And then I just broke down.  Bawling.  I got home and laid down in the room that we'd always planned would be a baby's room and just cried and cried.  I gave myself permission to just let go and cry, to feel the feelings instead of pushing them away like I do so often.  I let myself feel sorry for myself.  I cried for what I've lost.  I cried for my babies.  I'm so very sad they could not live, that my body could not hold on to them.

I'm glad I'm not feeling this way on a daily basis anymore.  I'm glad I've been feeling good enough that I could even go to this shower.  I had been asking Shannon if he knew if someone was going to throw a shower for her and he said I should if I was so worried about.  No way.  I knew I was feeling okay enough to go to a shower, but not at all ready to throw one.  And that's sad too.  Sad that I even have to think about these things.

I remember when Shannon told me that these friends had found out they were pregnant.  It was just a few days after loss #3 and I was sitting on the couch.  I had just said I was feeling okay when he tells me about their brand-new pregnancy.  I completely lost it, broke down crying for the longest time.  I know he thought it would be happy news to share, but I could not even begin to see past my own grief yet.  Then a couple of weeks later, a post on Facebook from these friends with an ultrasound picture of their little one and a due date.  Ten days after I would have been due.  Ten days!  That date is quickly approaching.  Seeing how pregnant she was today definitely made me sad that I'm missing out on that experience.

I think this is the first baby shower I've been to since our I started having pregnancy losses.  I did go to one right before I got pregnant with #1, but haven't been able to since then.  I got an invitation to one as we were going to the hospital for my surgery to remove the ectopic.  For some reason, I went to check the mail before we left and opened it in the car, as we were backing out of the driveway to have our first precious baby taken away.  Needless to say, I did not go to this shower.  Could not even bring myself to call to say I couldn't go.  Never apologized to that friend for missing it.  I remember the first time I saw that baby, I had to stand on the opposite side of the room and try not to look at it.  It was such a painful reminder of what I have just lost.

I take it back.  I did go to my stepsister's baby shower last year.  That baby was born just a couple of weeks before #2 would have been due.  That shower was difficult.  I had to stand in the kitchen much of the time, avoiding the celebration.  There were tons of babies all over the shower and right before she opened presents so many of her pregnant or new mom friends got up and gave speeches about how amazing motherhood was going to be for my stepsister.  Looking back now, I'm not really sure how I made it through that one...

With each of my losses, there's been a friend or relative's baby that was born around the time mine should have been.  And now when I see those babies, it's definitely bittersweet.  I remember getting this announcement with sweet pictures of my stepsister's baby and just bawling my eyes out at the kitchen table.  I thought Shannon was still sleeping and didn't want to cry in front of him, but then he appeared behind me and was so sweet about it all.  And this new baby will be the same.  Hopefully I'll be able to celebrate in their joy too when he arrives, but it will still be a reminder of what we've lost.  They'll go home from the hospital with their precious bundle of joy and all I've ever left with is emptiness.

Big day

Yesterday was a big day for me.  I started my period and thus, officially decided it was time to stop trying to get pregnant and focus solely on adoption.  I called my ob-gyn's office to schedule a time to come in for the Depo Provera shot.  Then picked it up at the Target pharmacy (no co-pay! This is the only *free* birth control I've ever been on).  Took it to the doctor's office and had them inject it in me.  I purposely made my appointment for right after lunch because I knew it wouldn't be too busy and full of pregnant women then.  I saw one or two, but thankfully nothing traumatic about this visit.

When I was at Target, I also bought gifts for a baby shower I'm going to this weekend.  I actually went through the baby aisles without breaking down or having to run away, actually enjoyed picking out the sweet little items for this baby boy.  Okay, I'll admit I did have to avoid an aisle with a new mother and her newborn because that was just TOO much.  But overall, it was a pretty pleasant experience.

Going to this baby shower is a big deal for me too.  This is the baby that is due 10 days after my 3rd pregnancy would have been.  I have been pregnant twice and lost two babies since this little one started growing in his mother.  Needless to say, I have avoided hanging out with these friends over the past several months.  I am clearly happy for them.  She had a miscarriage several years ago too, so I know what am amazing blessing this baby is for them.  But my pain was too much to be able to share in their joy.  I'm glad I'm finally starting to feel better and will be able to go to the baby shower this weekend to celebrate their little miracle.

So, yesterday was a pretty huge day for me.  I was able to take these steps out on my new journey.  And I did it all without feeling like I was going to have a panic attack and without breaking down crying.  I'll admit I did have a few tears in my eyes as I drove away from the ob-gyn's office.  After all, I'm only human.  But I made it.  And that feels good in a way I didn't know existed a few months ago.

Shannon sent me a text this morning that read:  "I'm proud of all the hurdles you accomplished yesterday my love.  I've always known you were strong.  I love you."  Completely made my day.  What a man, what a man  :)

Balance

I woke up in such a cranky mood today.  My period is officially due today and my temperature has already dropped, so it should be here any time now.  While for part of me, that is a relief, it's also a huge sadness too.  It means I will be calling the doctor to officially be put back on birth control and stop trying to get pregnant.  So much push and pull.  Wanting to be pregnant, scared to have another loss.  But really, more than anything, I just know deep down I want to be a mother, I am meant to be a mother and it's something I will cherish and flourish in.  So I need to to focus on the positive direction we are already headed in and embrace the idea of mothering through adoption.  It may not be what we originally expected, but it's definitely right for us now.  But the loss is still there.  And it felt so present this morning.  The loss of my fertility.  Whether we try again at another point in our lives or not, that chapter is officially ending today.

I went to a yoga class tonight.  I used to go to yoga regularly several years back and have been trying to get back in to it lately.  I loved loved loved the exercise I got from it back then, but it's different for me now.  That was before we even started trying to get pregnant, back when I still trusted my body.  That's been a huge issue for me lately-- trusting my body.  But that's what yoga is all about, so I'm trying to embrace the concept and get back in to regular classes.  My practice has definitely changed.  I used to love the power yoga class, used to love pushing myself beyond my limits.  Now I'm much more likely to just hold the pose and try to focus within.  Sometimes, like tonight, I come home from class feeling so good about myself.  So energized, so powerful, both physically and emotionally.  But other times lately, the class is almost too much for me to handle.  A couple of weeks ago, when we were in relaxation at the end of class, she asked us to think of a peaceful place and for some reason, I felt like I wanted to cry.  When we finally sat up at the end, I actually had to wipe tears from my eyes.  It wasn't a pain or sadness I could identify, but an ache deep inside.

Tonight's class was "Gentle Yoga" and it was just what I needed today.  The instructor has been doing yoga forever and is very holistic and nurturing.  We started the class dancing to warm up, which I'd never done in a yoga class, but it just felt good to move.  During class, she kept talking about "finding your balance between effort and surrender".  And that statement has really struck a chord with me.  It surely applies to yoga-- in each pose you want to both push yourself physically and also honor your body.  But it also applies to life as well.  With everything you do, you've got to both reach for the stars and let go at the same time.  I love it.

Changes

I called my regular ob-gyn's office this week to see about birth control options.  I found out through my FVL online support group that I can take progesterone-only pills-- thank goodness for that group!  When I finally talked to the nurse, she said the doctor would recommend the Depo-Provera shot for me if I'm sure I don't want to try to get pregnant any time soon.  I'm still not 100% decided, but I've done a lot of reading and researching this week looking up the pros and cons of the shot vs pills.  I feel pretty well-informed on the subject now and am leaning toward taking the doctor's advice and getting the shot next week.

It's bizarre to think I may be planning to do something that would stop us from getting pregnant and for quite some time.  The shot officially works for 3 months, but often you can't get pregnant again for many months afterward (as many as 18 months).  That is both scary and comforting.  If we could know that this whole adoption process was going to go smoothly and successfully for us, then we probably wouldn't even want to really try again for a few years, if ever.  But after the past 3 years of trying so hard to get pregnant, it's crazy to think we'd be doing the exact opposite now.

My period is due on Monday, so chances are I'll be calling them to set up a time for the shot next week.  This month could have been our last shot at trying to to get pregnant for awhile.  We were definitely not trying, but weren't 100% careful all month either.  I ovulated way early and had tons of EWCM.  It was like my body was taunting me, daring me to ttc this month.  But my heart could not get on board.  I figure if by some random chance, we are did get pregnant this month, it would be meant to be and we would rejoice in it, but it's still very scary and not really the road I would willingly choose at this point in our lives.  Weird to think that I don't even have a pregnancy test in the house.  After all the tests, all the months, I'm putting that aside now.

I went to a play therapy workshop for work on Friday about adoption.  Yet another sign from the universe that this month's presentation just happened to be on adoption  :)  I wasn't sure what to expect from the talk, but it turned out to be way more personal than I was prepared for.  I had expected to hear about the warning signs of what behaviors to look for in children who have been adopted, but she focused much more on working the the family, the parents in particular.

Several things she said have stuck with me.  She talked about how in this country now we are so insistent to say that families created from adoption and biological families are "the same".  But really they're not, inherently they are not.  That's not to say that one is better or worse, but they are different and those differences need to acknowledged.

The biggest thing that I keep thinking of is she discussed the six losses you experience in infertility.  They are the loss of:
 1) control [especially when enduring physically invasive and demanding testing and treatment]
 2) genetic legacy [the dream of passing on your traits and characteristics]
 3) being able to create a jointly conceived child with your partner
 4&5) the physical and emotional journey of pregnancy and childbirth
 6) the opportunity to parent a child

Adoption only fixes the 6th loss and you still must grieve for all these other losses.  I had never thought of it like that and it struck me in such a personal way.  When she was describing these losses, I felt tears come to my eyes and for a moment I thought I might not be able to make it through this.  A couple of months ago, I would not have been able to sit through that.  My instinct told me to look for the door, the escape from this pain, but I chose to stay and learn.  I've thought about how I have definitely experienced all these losses and examples of each one in my life sprung to mind.  She talked about feeling left out with other mothers when they tell stories of their pregnancy and birth-- that's something an adoptive mother can never experience.  Something I may never experience.  And I feel that every day.

We are signed up to begin our foster/adopt classes at the end of the month.  We are still very much looking forward to this.  I've been working on our application and officially asked our some of our close friends and family members to be character references for us.  It was wonderful-- each and every one of them was so completely supportive and encouraging.  And that means more to me than I can express.

A Little Sad

I went to a wedding tonight.  Shannon had to work, so I went alone.  I had friends there, but it's not the same as having your husband there, you know?  I missed him terribly while I was there.

This was my first wedding to go to in a while where I wasn't pregnant or freshly grieving a pregnancy loss.  That felt good to be able to drink and just let go and have fun.  But at the same time, it also made me a little bit sad.  Sad for all I've been through.  Sad I still have nothing to show for all our pregnancies, no sweet little one to hold.  I try to stay focused on a positive future ahead, but sometimes I'm still just a little sad about the past...

Disappointment

I've been a bad blogger, I know.  I've thought about writing so many times in the past couple of weeks, but life has just gotten in the way, you know?

I went back to the fertility doctor last week.  To say that was a disappointment would be a huge understatement.  Just walking in the door, I wondered if this was the right thing to do.  Just the smell of the place hit me and tears sprung to my eyes.  Last time I was here I was still pregnant, just saw my lifeless baby on the ultrasound screen.  I'm so not ready to do this all over again.

Then it gets even worse.  I go to check in and the receptionist looks puzzled and says do I have an appointment?  Apparently when they called back the previous week to change the appointment time, it never got entered in the books and I was not down for anything at all.  So she goes to look me up in the database.  Finally says, oh you were supposed to be here on April 23rd.  I stare at her in disbelief.  I tell her I was there on April 23rd, found out we'd lost the baby that day.  Hello!  So she scrambles around in the back for awhile leaving me standing there wondering what I should do.  I'm really fighting back tears now, willing myself not to break down here in the waiting room.  Should I just run out the door and never look back?

She comes back and says one of the nurses will meet with me and starts to take my co-pay for the appointment.  I told her if they were trying to squeeze me in with the doctor not to bother because I didn't want to be rushed for time with her.  I was there to finally get answers and was not going to stand for being brushed aside again.  She said no, I'd just meet with a nurse and decided not to make me pay (which I can say was the only redeeming thing about the entire experience).

Finally the nurse calls me back to a room-- one of the ultrasound rooms no less, thankfully not the one where I last saw my baby.  She basically asks me why am I there.  Gives me my thyroid level results, says the doctor was happy with the level and we can start trying again now.  I'd asked for specific thyroid tests other than just TSH, but of course they hadn't run those and had no idea why I would want that sort of thing.  I asked her what they would do differently in my next pregnancy, should we decide to go that route.  She said they would not do anything different the next time around.  Would still wait to start blood thinners until a heartbeat, even though some evidence points to starting at a + pregnancy test or even before.  I tried to ask the difference between Heparin and Lovenox and why they decided to put me on Heparin last time.  She said they are the same medication, which I know for a fact is completely untrue.  She basically just said next time I get my period to call and they would prescribe Clomid for me.  I asked why would they do that when it's clear I don't have a problem getting pregnant on my own.  She tried to insist that I got pregnant on Clomid last time, which I clearly did not.  Either way, it just felt like she was trying to push another unneccessary medication on me and not at all willing to do what I thought would be best.  She said then just call us when I get a + pregnancy test and "leave the rest to us".  Gee, that was the same advice I got from the doc last time and hmm... how well had that turned out??

Then she said I should go talk to their therapist.  True, I was clearly upset and near tears, but I'm not about to go to this therapist who they clearly have a deal with if they refer patients there.  We already fell for that when they sent us to their pharmacy to fill my Heparin prescription, claiming other places wouldn't measure it correctly.  By this time I was really fed up and ready to leave, but of course people-pleaser in me is still trying to be nice to this woman.  I got her to go over my chart with me to show me what all I had tested positive for, pointing out that no one had ever explained all of this to me other than to say in passing that I was hypothyroid (which turns out is not a diagnosis at all) and had Factor V Leiden.  No one explained what that means for me now or in the future.  Before I left, since I actually had a so-called medical professional in front of me, I decided to ask what were my birth control options from now on.  Even sitting there, I had decided I was not ready to try again any time soon and wanted to move forward, focusing on adoption.  Stupid me to think she might have an answer to that.  She kept coming up with birth control options and I had to explain to her why that wouldn't work for me.  Can't take birth control pills because of increased risk of blood clots.  Can't do IUD because of my ectopic history.  In the end, she basically said she didn't know, would ask the doctor and e-mail me about it.  Big surprise that I never heard back, right?

All in all, a huge disappointment and waste of time.  It just felt like the final sign I needed that that was not the right place for me.  I am not at all ready now to go down the "trying to conceive" road right now.  Don't know if I'll ever be there again.  But I know I'm not there now and that's okay.

That evening I came home and told Shannon about the whole awful experience and he said he was relieved.  He'd never really liked that place and never trusted them, felt like they pulled a bait-and-switch on us, promising us all this individual attention that we never got after the initial appointment.  He said he'd tried to stay supportive for me, but he's glad we'll never be back there again.  So I guess there's another good thing of all of this:  Shannon and I can talk openly and honestly about the whole thing and be there to encourage one another when the road gets tough.  And boy, has it been tough...