Where I am: 12w7d
Medications: just the basics!
Symptoms: still tired, still sore boobs, still a little bit of nausea, still slow digestion, still food/smell hypersensitivity and aversions, still congestion, still constipation, and *new* round ligament pain!
Sorry I haven’t checked in for a while! I assure you, Bug is fine. As far as I know (Friday’s OB MD appointment will reassure me of that).
Also, unless she’s lying to my face, brother’s girlfriend isn’t pregnant. PHEW!
So let me update you on a few things… Continue reading
Where I am: 8w2d
Symptoms: tired, sore boobs, nausea, slow digestion, food (and smell) aversions, congestion, headaches—and hemorrhoids?!
It was 174bpm, to be exact.
Friday morning, we woke up early and drove into the city to the same place I went to on that unfortunate Christmas Eve. As we walked in the entrance and the long, incredibly long entryway (it’s a strangely long building) to the elevators past registration, I could see the events of seven months ago clear as day.
I remembered walking in, nervous. I remembered the scan, which I’ve already told you all about. But then there was the exit. Walking through the waiting room full of pregnant women, to the elevators, down to the first floor, down that long entryway, through the streets to the train station. Crying, the whole time—me, a person who’d rather die than cry in public.
I remembered the devastation, the heavy emptiness in my belly, the disbelief. The grief.
But this day…this day was different.
We got to the waiting room and they sent us right in. My hands shook as I removed my leg brace, then my jeans, then my underwear. We weren’t in the same scan room as before, thankfully. Like the practice by my apartment, this one had a scan room specifically for those receiving fertility treatment. There was just the one monitor—no TV screen mounted on the wall to possibly display the horrible truth.
The technician told me she would take the measurements all for herself first, before showing me anything. With a tremor in my voice, I said “Okay,” and my husband gently brushed my hair with one hand and squeezed my hand with the other. All the lights but one had been shut off, all but one soft light directly over my head. I stared at it and tried to control my breathing, but I felt my whole body shaking. Tears rolled down my cheeks involuntarily as I mentally prepared myself for what I felt was the inevitable.
And then, probably because she saw I was about to fall to pieces right there, the technician turned the monitor towards me. She pointed to the bright spot and said, “See there? That’s your baby’s heart. It’s beating furiously, honey. Okay?”
I let my breath out, and more tears came, and as she turned the monitor back so she could do her thing, I whispered “Okay” and looked up in my husband’s eyes. “Okay.”
Lucky Bug is measuring ahead (according to estimated ovulation, anyway) a few days. At 7w7d, Bug measured 8w2d and had a heartbeat of 174. It’s brain is forming—the technician pointed out the dark shadow where it would be in a few weeks. We also saw what was left of the yolk sac, the cord, and the very thin and almost indiscernible amniotic sac. And we saw that heart. That beautiful, strong heart beating away.
My husband surprised me with two presents: a Swarovski ladybug, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. This he gave to me in the car on the way to the appointment. He then surprised me with a necklace and earrings set: simple, small Swarovski earrings to match a simple, small necklace: a flower, with a tiny ladybug perched on it. This he gave to me in the exam room while we waited in between the ultrasound and the consultation with my RE. I cried both times.
I cried a lot that day, actually.
My RE is confident this pregnancy is going to progress normally. In his words, “We’ve done everything we can to fix what needed fixing. The polyps, the hyperprolactinemia, your hypothyroidism…you have done all you can.”
Speaking of which, my TSH is at an astoundingly perfect 2.42, a level it has never ever been before. I take this as a good sign, and I hope it stays near this level for the rest of this trimester.
I asked my RE about two things: an additional ultrasound between now and 12 weeks (for obvious reasons), and an at-home Doppler.
Though I should have fully graduated to the regular OB team this week, my request for another ultrasound will delay that two more weeks…somewhat. My RE was kind enough to offer me one final check at 10w on August 14th, so I will graduate and say goodbye then. I still have my OB intake appointment this Thursday, though. And after the next ultrasound, it’ll only be another two weeks until the NT scan.
As for the Doppler, well, my RE advised against it. He said it would drive me crazy. He once again reassured me that my problems seemed very 1st trimester-influential, and that once I pass 13w I will be good to go. I haven’t made a decision yet whether I will get one or not, but I appreciated his input.
So there you have it. I’m officially in the “Red Zone.” About five weeks and I’ll be past it. In that time, I have two scans and a regular OB appointment. I think I’ll make it, if everything goes well.
And of course there’s more to that day. And the weekend. Highs and lows. But that’s for the public post.
I’ll leave you with this: I love this baby more and more every day. It’ll take a lot of strength for me to make it in one piece to the next ultrasound, and I’m sure I’ll be just as ready to fall apart then as I was a few days ago. But I love this baby. I want it to stay with me. With every scan I pass with flying colors, I feel relief for a few moments, and then dread as I realize I’m becoming more and more attached. I am attached. I love…this…baby.
Hang around, Lucky Bug. Mommy and Daddy want you to stay. ❤
I’ve had this post sitting in my drafts for over a month. Never could I have expected to be where I am now when I published it. Newly pregnant, so far unestablished by anything but an obsession with peeing on sticks (my only comfort now, thanks a lot Quest).
**Warning: possible triggers for women with recurrent miscarriage.** Continue reading
I can’t. I have to wait at least another day while the proper people are informed and blah blah frickin’ blah.
This is not even TTC-related, but I am so anxious to get it out there and write about it and I can’t on my public blog and I’m losing my mind.
I got the job. At my work. The permanent, full-time editorial position.
GUYS I GOT THE FRIGGIN’ JOB. I FINALLY HAVE A JOB IN MY FIELD.
I can’t even…
I can’t. Not even a little.
Aside from the fact that I’ve been waiting four whole years for a job in my field, aside from that…this job…
…okay, this is going to go TTC-related. This job means so many things. It means I have, for the first time in over a year, a full-time permanent job. For the first time in forever, I have a job in my field.
I have a normal paycheck. Not that we were struggling before, but the fertility stuff was eventually going to start making things really difficult. Treatments aside, possible ER visits or procedures or prenatal care…the money was going to start dwindling somewhere. And our precious tiny “baby fund,” compiled of all the money we got from our wedding over two years ago now, was going to have to be touched. And then the money we’d want to eventually spend on our newborn baby would start to disappear.
Same with the mortgage. And everything else that comes with buying a house. Sure, we have our down payment set aside (and that came to us only out of tragedy) but there’ll be expenses. New appliances. Painting. Furniture. Higher bills. Etc, etc.
And we went into this year kind of saying, “Well, screw it. Let’s close our eyes and hope for the best.” And we did. And I applied to this job with my eyes closed, my breath held, and I got it.
Were not millionaires now. My new salary, while AMAZING considering I’m used to living off of a meager near-minimum wage thanks to over ten years in retail, doesn’t mean we can afford a giant house. Or even a house bigger than what we planned on anyway, in fact. It doesn’t mean we can do a zillion medicated cycles or IUIs or IVF treatments, or adopt a baby as easy as 1-2-3.
But this job…it means so much. It means I can breathe a little easier. It means if we run into a speed bump with buying our house, we won’t sail over the median and crash head-on into a Mack truck. We might get into a little fender-bender, but we’ll be okay. We’ll be able to drive home safe.
And it means benefits. It means more health insurance. It means maybe infertility still won’t be covered, but eventually being doubly-covered for prenatal care might make up for the dent that treatments will put us in. It means maternity leave.
I’m sorry, I know I’m rambling. But I smile-cried the whole way home today. I feel like things have been going so wrong, for so long. I needed this job, just like I need us to buy a house. I am so tired of things being taken away from me, from me and J. I don’t know what the hell is in store for us regarding TTC, but at least I know it’s not infecting every other damn part of my life. I’m not being followed by the dark cloud I thought was haunting every waking moment. I feel like our life’s felt stagnant for years as I’ve navigated the publishing world and struggled to find my footing and a job, suffered miserable jobs in retail where I was overworked and underappreciated, and as we continued to put everything in our lives on hold while we TTC. I almost didn’t go to grad school because of the miscarriage. I almost didn’t take the job I have now because of grad school. We almost didn’t start seriously thinking about a house because of two miscarriages and the realization that we needed medical help.
Well screw you, infertility and recurrent miscarriage. We’re moving on without you.
I know I play tough on here but I have been fighting a dark place ever since December. And I myself didn’t realize until I drove home how this job offer really affected me. I didn’t realize I was holding out for it so much.
Okay. I feel better now. Oh except for one more thing.
Hey future baby. I hope wherever you are, you’re seeing and hearing this right now. Mommy’s got a good job, so she can buy you the things you need. Mommy and Daddy are going to buy a house for all of us, too, where you’ll have your own room, and a backyard to play in. So you see? We’re ready for you now. More ready than we’ve ever been. So you can come home, now. Everything will be here for you when you arrive. ❤
Where I am: CD19
First of all, an acknowledgement of my most recent post about BFPs in the IF/RPL community. My blog has received
155 192 views from 67 89 visitors just today! The post itself? An astounding 78 88 views!
I am flattered. I am touched. I wrote it as a nod to my preggo pals, and instead my blog is imploding from all the attention. Thank you!
Anyway, a small update. I got my thyroid and pituitary results back recently. My prolactin, thankfully, went down from a way too high 38.36 to an almost pregnancy-safe 16.64! So I will continue my half-pill of bromocriptine every night.
My thyroid… *sigh* My TSH went up slightly from 3.08 to 3.29. GRRRRRR! So frustrating, especially since they increased my dose since the last level!
The nurse called me today, and Dr. O wants to put me back on the dosage of levothyroxine I was on last fall (which consequently brought my TSH to an incredibly low level of .19 during my last pregnancy). I asked her whether or not we should have the free T3 and T4 done, and she said no because my level was within normal range.
This frustrated me a little bit. Isn’t the whole point of increasing my dose so that my thyroid levels are closer to pregnancy-safe? Why wouldn’t they want to make sure the tests are accurate??
I’m considering calling back and speaking to someone else…and requesting—or demanding—that I have those other tests done. I’m nervous the TSH alone isn’t being reliable, and the paranoia that my thyroid contributed to both my miscarriages is rampant and I don’t want it to happen again.
Anyway…CD19 today. Inching closer and closer to AF, I hope! Oh, and that reminds me—while I had the nurse on the phone, I had her put in an order with CVS Caremark for my new dosage of Clomid. I’ll probably call on Monday (CD23) and have it delivered the next day so that I have it for the start of my new cycle.
Fingers crossed that 1) AF shows up in a reasonable time, and 2) I clear my baseline ultrasound. I’m still having ovarian tenderness/pain in my abdomen that flares a little sometimes when I pee. I’m nervous the last Clomid cycle and possible OHSS did something to screw up my lady parts. I hope I’m wrong.
I know that, for many, seeing others in the IF/RPL community get BFPs can be hard. As much as we want to support each other, as much as we want to see others succeed, it is still hard to not wonder, Why not me?
And I understand that. I feel it sometimes, too. I see all these women popping up with their BFPs on here and on Twitter and, as soon as the congratulations are out of my mouth, I feel that little pinch of jealousy…of envy…of resentment. What about me?
I’m part of a group on the Baby Bump app I downloaded the week I got my first BFP last year. There are message groups/forums abound on there, and while I haven’t made any everlasting pals on there like I have on here and on Twitter, I do find some comfort there. The group I am a part of was for women starting new TTC cycles in April, and was a small amount of people (less than 20 members) and we all started posting on there. We shared our stories. We shared our symptoms. Most of us shared our BFNs. But two women shared their BFPs. Right off the bat, they were successful and the rest of us were not.
And I felt it again. The old faithful, Why them and not me? Why? WHY? I felt jealous, I felt sadder for myself.
Well, within a week each of announcing their BFPs, both of them miscarried. For one it was her third, for the other—her sixth, and last. She’s given up at this point. It’s too painful for her. She can’t deal with it anymore.
Another person I found here on WordPress earlier this year just announced last week that she has lost her second pregnancy.
And that, my friends, is why I don’t mind seeing your BFPs. Your pregnancy posts. Your post-pregnancy photos. Because I cried when these three women lost their sweet little could-have-been babes. To see more losses only breaks my heart in a way it doesn’t break when I see others being successful when I’m not. It hurts more.
And it scares me, too. I feel such hope and strength when I watch you ladies being successful on medicated cycles, successful with a viable pregnancy even after so many losses. But when I see someone lose another baby, again, it terrifies me. It makes me wonder, but in a different way: What about me?
What if what happened to them, happens to me…again?
I know everyone is entitled to their opinions. I don’t speak for the whole community. I know that each and every one of us needs to protect our hearts, our sanity, and that means doing what is best for us in the moment. And sure, there may come a day or two when I don’t feel the same temporarily…or, maybe, permanently. But for right now, I love seeing your posts. I love seeing your success. It gives me hope. It gives me the strength to keep trying. It reassures me that sometimes, it does work out. ❤