Looking Forward

J and I went in for my 2 week post-op appointment today. I was hoping to hear that we would only have to wait 2 cycles before we could try again, but Dr. Kleinpeter wants us to wait 3. Ugh! His explanation was that my HcG levels were in the 100,000's the day of my D&C, and because the pregnancy progressed as far as it did, my body would need the three cycles to recoup. As much as I didn't like it, I understood. He's being conservative, and I appreciate that, but I've also heard that in the 3 months following a D&C that you're more fertile. I wanted to capitalize on my increased fertility while I could. The other piece of news that really struck a nerve with me was the part about having to go back on "the pill". Because I have PCOS and I don't have regular cycles on my own I would need the pill to bring on the 3 cycles necessary in order to get back in the ttc game. Again, I understand, but I don't have to like it, do I?

Dr. Kleinpeter really is a wonderful, caring doctor with impeccable bedside manner. (And he's not bad looking either!) He spent about 30 minutes talking to us about where we'll go from here. He wants to run a few blood tests to check my antibody levels and my clotting ability. Aside from genetic abnormalities in the baby, clotting issues are a common cause of miscarriage. If just a few of the vessels responsible for the transport of oxygen and nutrients were to become clogged then the baby won't receive what it needs from the mother in order to survive. People with arthritis like I have will have antibodies in their blood that are fighting against their bodies. That's what is attacking my joint tissue, and very often these antibodies can interfere with a woman's fertility. Fortunately there are easy solutions to both of these issues, and if it turns out that these were possible causes of my miscarriage, then they can easily be solved should I become pregnant again. I'll have both of these tests done in about 4 weeks once my HcG levels have had time to return to a pre-pregnancy state. I can't be on the pill when I take these tests because the hormones in the pill might skew the results. So in the meantime I'm going to hope and pray that I have a cycle on my own between now and when I have my blood tests done. Then that will be one cycle down, and only 2 months of pills ahead.

We also talked about my frustration with not being able to lost weight despite cutting back on my food intake and working out 45 minutes to an hour 4-5 days a week. My PCOS is the culprit! Most PCOS patients have some sort of insulin resistence (IR). Some more than others. The problem with weight loss comes because the PCOS body doesn't process insulin (glucose) the way it should. I can have a normal blood sugar of 80, but an IR of 32, and it will be much harder for me to lose weight as opposed to a person with a blood sugar of 80 and an IR of 16. So with that said, I can count calories and fat grams all day long, but if my body won't break down the insulin like it should I'm not going to lose any weight. Therefore, Dr. K suggested that I start on a low-carb diet. (Yet another thing I hated about our appointment! I LOVE CARBS!!!!)

I am antsy to try again. I guess because I'm looking for something to fill this huge void I have in my heart. I know that's not the proper way to go about filling that void, but at this point it's the only way I know how. TTC has been a huge part of my life for the past year, and because of that, it brings a sense of normalcy to my life that I haven't felt in over a month. I guess if I can't try to conceive then I'm going to work on my weight. It will give me something to do to pass the time while I wait for the day when we can get back to trying to conceive!!

I'll Meet You Someday

When a child is taken from a mother-to-be before she gets to meet them many questions come to mind concerning their child's spiritual being. Questions like, "Did my child go to Heaven? Will I ever get to meet my baby again?" And even, "Will I recognize them in Heaven when I see them?"

In the days following my second miscarriage I spent a lot of time trying to find answers to those questions so I could deal with the intense grief that I was experiencing. In reading books on infant death and grief, and in searching passages in the Bible I found the answer to all of those questions to be, yes!

Did my child go to Heaven and will I ever meet them again? I believe with great certainty that my child did go to be with the Lord. In 2 Samuel 12, David was grieving for his dead son, and said, "I shall go to him." I think that has two meaning. First, we will all die, joining our child in the grave. Second, as Christians we are guaranteed a life in Heaven with Christ. But my unborn child wasn't a Christian so how can he or she go to be with the Lord? Unborn children cannot make moral choices and therefore remain innocent. God's perfect justice receives them into His presence. So not only will I join my child in the grave, but when I get to Heaven I will once again be reunited with them! How exciting!!!

Will I recognize my child when I get to Heaven? In Psalm 139 David states, "For you created my inmost being, you knitted me together in my mother's womb. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place." While a child is being formed in the womb God already has a record of what the child will become physically. The smallest cells that make up an unborn child's physical appearance are known to our Father from the very moment of conception! Isn't that amazing?!? We would not recognize them now because we do not see things as our Creator does, but once we join them in Heaven we will see God face-to-face and we will then know Him as we were known. And I believe that we will "know" who our child is immediately upon seeing them because of that newfound knowledge that we'll receive when we go to be with the Lord. Praise God!

What I've wanted most from God during my time of grief was to be comforted like only He can comfort me. And in searching for answers to my questions I have found an immeasurable amount of comfort and peace from my Heavenly Father. There will always be a place in my heart full of love for our unborn children, and I'm looking forward to the day when I will meet them in Heaven!

Now What?

I miss being pregnant. I miss the nausea, constipation, fatigue, everything. But most of all I miss the hope that being pregnant brought to my life. I miss the joy I felt every time I thought about our baby. I miss seeing the look on J's face when he would talk about our baby.

We're now in the grieving process, and I find myself asking, "Now what?" I've tried to figure out why this had to happen, and the only thing I can come up with is this: We live in a broken, imperfect world. And we will feel the effects of the imperfection and brokenness in the form of sickness, natural disaster, tragedy and death. So I have two choices in how I deal with the bumps in the road. I can make God the focus of my frustration and anger and allow myself to become a lost, bitter soul. Or, I can accept the comfort and peace that only God can give to help me make it through the stormy times of life.

"God, please comfort our broken hearts. Grant us your peace that passes all understanding, and help us seek you for the answer to, 'Now what?'."

9w3d Ultrasound

I was told to come in fasting. Just in case. There we sat, in the very same chairs we sat in a week ago. Waiting. I looked at all the other women sitting in the waiting room. Some old, some young, some pregnant, some not, some with their spouse, others with friends. I longed to be blissfully happy and big, huge and pregnant.

When they called us back my heart sank. I knew there had been no changes. No good ones anyway. I was no longer nauseated. My breasts were no longer full and achy. This was all just a formality. This time we were crammed in a small, dark room for the ultrasound. We weren't in the nice spacious room with the color monitor and comfy chairs. Mom and J had to stand in the corner, and the only monitor in the room was the one that the technician had on the machine. Kind of made me feel like they knew the outcome already. Why waste the nice room on the woman who lost her baby?

The technician asked me if I was ready. Of course I wasn't, but I quietly replied, "yes." When she found the baby she immediately said, "There's the fetus, but there's still no heartbeat, Hon. I'm so sorry. This isn't a good pregnancy." At that I wanted to jump off the table and end the session, but she kept looking. For what, I don't know, but she looked at my ovaries again. They were still there. She measured my sac size, and it had gone down to 6w4d. Then she measured the baby's size. There had been no change. I had lost my baby. I had what they call a "missed abortion". Does it really have to be called a "missed abortion"? Why can't they call it a "missed miscarriage"?

We went straight in to see Dr. Kleinpeter. When he walked in he apologized and said he had hoped things would have turned out differently. He gave us the option of letting nature take it's course, but made sure to tell us he had no idea how long that would be, or I could have a D&C that afternoon since I came in fasting. I opted for the D&C. I just couldn't bear to wait any longer. I wanted this whole nighmare to be over! He made a few phone calls, and I was on the schedule for 1:00.

We went in to talk to the pre-op nurse. She was so incredibly nice. She told us all about the prodecure and what to expect in the days to come. She filled out all my paperwork, and then we were off to the out-patient surgical center for admissions, bloodwork and the D&C. It was all happening so fast.

They immediately put me in a room, and not long after I was bombarded with nurses wanting insurance information, others were poking and prodding to get my blood and put in the IV line. Then we were left alone to wait for them to come get me for the surgery. We tried to talk about other things, but there was still an elephant in the room...I had had another miscarriage.

The anesthesiologist came in and game me a little something to relax me. As they wheeled me out of the the room J and Mom both gave me a kiss on the forehead. Then they wheeled me in the operating room. Dr. Kleinpeter was waiting on me when I got there. He had just finished performing another D&C on another poor woman. Today just wasn't a good day for his patients. Country music was playing in the room, and I heard Dr. K singing. I can't recall the song, but I remember being surprised to hear him sing. He wasn't half bad. He came over, grabbed my hand and told me everything was going to be okay. Then the anesthesiologist put the mask on my face and told me to take deep breaths. I remember taking 3 breaths, and then the next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room.

I was in a lot of pain when I woke up. I had bad cramps, and I felt a burning sensation. That, I learned, was from the catheter they used to drain my bladder before surgery. The nurse asked me if I was in pain. I told her I was so she gave me some pain meds through my IV. I asked her if it was over. She said, "yes" and patted my hand. I started to cry. I couldn't believe it. My baby was gone.

Trying to Stay Busy

Mom has gone back home. J has gone back to work. And I'm here at home alone trying to make sense of everything that has happened. I still can't grasp the fact that I might not become a mother. That's all I've ever wanted in life...to be a wife and mother. Why does it have to be so hard for me when it seems to come so easily to teens caught up in the moment or women too stoned to know what's going on? I just don't get it.

I have 4 more days left to wait and wonder whether my baby's heart has started beating. I thought the last wait was hard, but this one is definitely more excrutiating. On one hand I want to hope for a miracle. But on the other I can't let myself hope because it will make the bad news that much harder to digest. I'm on a teeter totter, and I can't seem to get off.

I just can't seem to find anything that keeps me busy. I've tried surfing the internet, but all I ever do is look for glimpses of hope from other women who have been in my situation. Watching TV doesn't help. I can't bring myself to step out of the house for fear that I'll run into a woman carrying a healthy baby. Nothing takes my mind off my pain, grief, hopelessness, and sense of failure. I feel like I'm drowning.

8w3d Ultrasound

Unlike most expectant parents I wasn't excited about this ultrasound it at all. I had little faith that anything had changed. I felt like I had this huge, wet blanket on my head that was weighing me down as I sat in the waiting room. I didn't want to go in there and see nothing. My heart was heavy.

We were quiet when we went in the ultrasound room. This time Mom was there too. As I laid there on the table I couldn't look at J or Mom. All I could do was stare up at the tv screen. The technician immediately found the gestational sac, but this time she said, "See that little white grain of rice? That's the fetus. But I'm still not seeing a heartbeat." She asked me to hold my breath so she could listen for the heartbeat, but all we heard was the echo of mine. Again I heard those words that have been playing in my head over and over again, "I'm sorry. This doesn't seem like a good pregnancy. There's a fetus there, but no heartbeat." Fetus? Why is she calling it a fetus? Why can't she call it what it is to me, a baby, instead of being all technical with her words? Does she think that if she says it's a baby that it might make this all the more real to me? This was real! My pain was real!

I could hear my mother crying next to J. I couldn't cry. I was too numb. I think J was trying to be strong for me, but I know he wanted to cry, too.

Again we were sent to another waiting room to wait for my doctor. When we went in we exchanged pleasantries, but our smiles were forced. Dr. K said there had been fetal growth so he couldn't in good conscience schedule a D&C. He said he wasn't optimistic, but he was more optimistic than he was after the first ultrasound. We would have to wait another week to see if our baby was just a slow developer. He apologized for putting us through the waiting game, but until he was 100% certain that this baby wouldn't make it he wasn't going to end the pregnancy.

I didn't know if I could make it another week.

The Wait...

All I can do is lay in bed and cry. I keep seeing an empty sac where my baby should have been, and the words of the technician keep playing in my head over and over again, "I'm just not seeing anything. This doesn't look like a good pregnancy. I'm so sorry."

I'm trying really hard to pray that everything will be okay, but deep inside I'm too angry to pray. Why had God allowed this to happen? Why had He allowed me to get pregnant if He wasn't going to let me carry this child to term? What is the purpose of all this?

My friends and family have tried to offer us words of encouragement and hope, but no words can comfort my broken heart.

Each day feels like an eternity!

7w5d ultrasound

We had waited for this day for so long! We were finally going to get to see our little bean! I was anxious, excited, scared, you name it, that's how I felt when we walked into the ultrasound room.

When the first images popped up on the screen I could see my gestational sac and a yolk sac, but I couldn't see our little bean. My heart skipped a beat. The technician kept looking and told us to relax a little while she checked my ovaries. I knew it had to be bad. Why wasn't I seeing our baby? By 7w5d you should be able to see the baby and little heartbeat flickering on the screen. After checking my ovaries she went back to look at my uterus, and again she couldn't find anything. I thought I was going to lose it right there on the table. Where was my baby? The technicial said that my gestational sac measure 7w5d, right on track. She said it was larger than 18mm, and certainly by the time it reaches that size we should be able to see the baby and the heartbeat. "Oh my God! We've had another miscarriage! This can't be happening!" was all that ran through my head.

The technician sent us to another waiting room so we could talk with our doctor. I couldn't do anything but sit there in disbelief. I didn't want to just lose it there in the waiting room so I laid my head on J's shoulder and quietly cried. I whispered to him, "It's not fair," and he gently rubbed my head and said, "I know, Honey, I know."

We went in to talk with Dr. K, and he prepared us for the worst. He wanted to wait a few more days and then do another ultrasound before making any decisions about a D&C, but he wasn't optimistic, and frankly neither was I. I just looked over at J with this, "Oh God, help me!" look, and he leaned over and grabbed my hand.

We walked out of the office with red eyes and empty hearts instead of with huge smiles on our faces and pictures of our baby in our hands.