I'm one step and a whole basket full of frustrations closer to being done with this accidental effort to rack up frequent flier miles at the hospital and doctor's office.
My pre-op appointment with my doctor was on Tuesday and I found out upon arrival it would be a "here's your paper thin lap sheet" kind of visit. By now I am embarrassingly good at these. It was also a thorough set of stats kind of day, so naturally I wore boots and socks over tight jeans I had to get into and out of multiple times for accurate height, weight and previously mentioned lap sheet time. For my surgery I'm wearing flip flops, watch me.
The doctor explained in more detail exactly what would happen with the surgical procedure. I would be fully anesthetized and positioned on the table (this surprised me a bit as she explained for my D&C I'd been mildly sedated, corrected to more significantly sedated so they could maintain my airway with an object I surely would have objected to otherwise. I was knocked completely out, is what I'm saying, and I can't fathom how this surgery will feel any different than that one...). They would start by making a very small incision in the lowest part of my belly button to fill me with gas to allow space and room to maneuver. They would then increase the incision size a little bit to fit the laparoscope, **at which point she would be able to determine my uterus shape and be able to decide if she would go to cut back the septum or if there is a significant, over-pronounced heart shape, in which case she would abandon the efforts for septum correction. I would then be dilated to allow one of two devices for the cutting; the scissors are smaller but take a little bit longer to cut, the curly looking thing (pretty close to how she described it) was a little bit bigger but made for a quicker procedure. Since the sepate tissue should be fairly lacking in blood vessels there should be little to no bleeding so no suturing of any variety needed. She would try to release as much of the gas as possible and close my belly button incision with one dissolving suture. The rest of the gas she said I would breath off throughout the rest of the day and I may experience some neck and shoulder pain as a result. I should also expect some abdominal pain or discomfort and cramping and need to avoid strenuous activity for a week and allow about a month for healing, at which point, I am already dreading, we will do a second HSG (because the fist one was so much fun) to confirm the correction.
I told my doctor that I would be going to the hospital right after my appointment as they told me the night before they needed to do an EKG. She was surprised they wanted to do one, given my age and relative health history, but because my height and weight put me in a certain portion of the BMI chart I was automatically required to have one. In addition the hospital said they needed a beta pregnancy test (blood test), despite having been on birth control for a month and my doctor confirming the start of my new cycle. I hedged with her twice that I really hoped to avoid the additional testing but she didn't pick up on it and I had a headache, felt vaguely unwell and didn't have it in me to try
to refuse the tests, if I even knew who else to talk to about trying to argue
my case for not needing one.
I've gotten pretty good at checking in at the hospital and it went fairly quickly. I found my way down the hall to an incredibly nondescript lab door and luckily bumped into a technician right inside who told me what to do with the file folder I'd been given, then sat to wait. A woman came out to ask me if my doctor had done my EKG, to which I blinked in sufficiently baffled manner and finally stuttered that the EKG was the reason I was even there. A few more minutes later she called me back and spent just about 5 minutes with me, 30 seconds of which comprised the actual EKG test, about a minute to hook up the leads, 30 seconds or so to rip them back off, the rest of the time she lamented not knowing when she would be given a day off. I was then ushered to the technician who would draw blood for the completely unnecessary pregnancy test and who, upon being told I was somewhat needle phobic, decided to hit a far more uncomfortable vein location more towards the top of my arm at my elbow, the most bizarre blood draw location I've yet to experience. Kudos, dude.
By the time I was finished with the run around I felt angry, frustrated and defeated. Angry at myself for giving in and just going along with everything rather than taking more of a stand for myself, frustrated at the history of irresponsible, sue-happy idiots who have helped shape the legal insanity we all have to deal with and defeated in the face of the big picture of illogical craziness.
All that said I'm thankful to have health insurance that gives us the chance to have these procedures, without which we might not ever be successful. I'm glad that we've come so far and thrilled that it's almost over (I hope!). My daily prayer is for continued faith that we are in the midst of a plan for us and that years down the road we'll be able to look back on this time and see how we wouldn't have gotten there without going through these challenging steps. One day we'll suddenly see how it was all worth it, in the meantime we'll just keep swimming...
**There is still some question as to which state my uterus is in. All of these terms have been tossed around and used somewhat interchangably, so this is described as best as I understand:
1) Septate uterus - there may be minimal heart shaping (the top wall of the uterus should be fairly straight and look like the base of an upside down triangle, mine may look more like the top of a Valentine heart) and a septum, or wall of useless tissue, chillin' in the middle. This can cause a significant increase of miscarriages as the pregnancy may implant on the septate tissue that does not provide blood or nutrients, which would result in loss of the fetus.
2) Heart-shaped/bicornate - the Valentine heart shaping is very pronounced or there are almost two separate compartments of the uterus. This is actually a slightly better case as even though there is a dip in the wall, all walls available for implanting are sufficiently blood supplied to feed the pregnancy. The downfall to this situation is we will be back to the drawing board for a reason I seem to be having difficulty keeping it.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Surprise!
***In which there is more discussion of Girl Parts. Ewww!
I've been playing the waiting game for just over a week, which means to some extent I've been playing the stressing game. One of the good things about these experiences is I'm seriously honing my skills at the stressing game and developing a much thicker skin. As anyone who knows me well can attest, I am a bit prone to worrying, so anything that helps me learn how to relax and take things in stride is a huge step in a healthy direction.
Most of my stress has been surrounding the costs of the unknown further imaging needed to try to determine an appropriate surgical fix. I was hoping for just the ultrasound but feared that with my atrocious luck we'd have to add on the MRI only to find out in the end that I was a hopeless cause and there was no fix for me. I figure if I brace myself for the worst then I'm prepared if it happens, monumentally thrilled if it doesn't.
Guess who's monumentally thrilled?
I finally got my anxiously awaited call from the doctor yesterday, who had very unexpected news: she reviewed the images from the torture x-rays, I mean, the HSG, as well as the notes from the radiologist from our miscarriage confirm appointment (who was the first to raise a flag about our potential uterus woes) and determined the issue was not a bicournate uterus but a septate one instead. This means there are not two divergent horns connected by a small base, but a septum, or interior "wall", that is causing a bit of a divide. In other words we are much closer to a heart shaped uterus then complete crazy town and it seems to be easier to fix.
The Fix: the septum needs to be trimmed back to the uterus wall (imagine cutting wrapping paper but stopping just before you get all the way through - Gift Wrappers, you are welcome!), that means scissors by way of cervix. By now I'm not nearly as concerned about that as I am the laporoscopic camera and flashlight that will be inserted via belly button (*twitch*) as the guide my doctor uses to determine when she has cut far enough. The nice thing is that this should be a fairly quick(ish?) outpatient procedure and Clif will get the incredibly entertaining responsibility of waking me up afterwards. There has been no mention, but I am assuming they'll knock me out, they'll have to. Internal scissors aside I tend to want to violently fight people that make even the slightest effort to get in the vicinity of my belly button... After that I'll have about a month of heal time then we will take another trip to Torture Town thanks to a second HSG to make sure the correction held and it didn't try to grow back all catawompus. There is a very, very big part of me that really wants to ask if we can just skip that part, but at 4-6 months per attempt the smart thing is to make sure it's right rather than waste unnecessary time. Darn adult responsible thinking...
So, we're on to another waiting game, but this one will be much easier to play. I'm on some hormones to help thin things out while my doctor calculates the ideal time to schedule this procedure. Timing, I have learned, is precise and paramount. That's going to be a month right there then another one for healing. Bring it, May!
I've been playing the waiting game for just over a week, which means to some extent I've been playing the stressing game. One of the good things about these experiences is I'm seriously honing my skills at the stressing game and developing a much thicker skin. As anyone who knows me well can attest, I am a bit prone to worrying, so anything that helps me learn how to relax and take things in stride is a huge step in a healthy direction.
Most of my stress has been surrounding the costs of the unknown further imaging needed to try to determine an appropriate surgical fix. I was hoping for just the ultrasound but feared that with my atrocious luck we'd have to add on the MRI only to find out in the end that I was a hopeless cause and there was no fix for me. I figure if I brace myself for the worst then I'm prepared if it happens, monumentally thrilled if it doesn't.
Guess who's monumentally thrilled?
I finally got my anxiously awaited call from the doctor yesterday, who had very unexpected news: she reviewed the images from the torture x-rays, I mean, the HSG, as well as the notes from the radiologist from our miscarriage confirm appointment (who was the first to raise a flag about our potential uterus woes) and determined the issue was not a bicournate uterus but a septate one instead. This means there are not two divergent horns connected by a small base, but a septum, or interior "wall", that is causing a bit of a divide. In other words we are much closer to a heart shaped uterus then complete crazy town and it seems to be easier to fix.
The Fix: the septum needs to be trimmed back to the uterus wall (imagine cutting wrapping paper but stopping just before you get all the way through - Gift Wrappers, you are welcome!), that means scissors by way of cervix. By now I'm not nearly as concerned about that as I am the laporoscopic camera and flashlight that will be inserted via belly button (*twitch*) as the guide my doctor uses to determine when she has cut far enough. The nice thing is that this should be a fairly quick(ish?) outpatient procedure and Clif will get the incredibly entertaining responsibility of waking me up afterwards. There has been no mention, but I am assuming they'll knock me out, they'll have to. Internal scissors aside I tend to want to violently fight people that make even the slightest effort to get in the vicinity of my belly button... After that I'll have about a month of heal time then we will take another trip to Torture Town thanks to a second HSG to make sure the correction held and it didn't try to grow back all catawompus. There is a very, very big part of me that really wants to ask if we can just skip that part, but at 4-6 months per attempt the smart thing is to make sure it's right rather than waste unnecessary time. Darn adult responsible thinking...
So, we're on to another waiting game, but this one will be much easier to play. I'm on some hormones to help thin things out while my doctor calculates the ideal time to schedule this procedure. Timing, I have learned, is precise and paramount. That's going to be a month right there then another one for healing. Bring it, May!
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
And The Winner Is...
*parental guidance: the post in which there is some description and explanation. Nothing graphic but if you don't know me that well and would like to keep it that way, know me that well and don't care to know any further or are not interested in the details, feel free to skim liberally. These are things I wish I'd known before experiencing them and wish had been explained in more accurate light than I thought they were, so this post is for the full disclosure.
Check List
1.Genetic Incompatability - let's just call it that,
it seems to cover a multitude. Barring spontaneous issues we have
determined our genes like each other. Party!
2.Bad Blood - all of my blood is fine.
3.Hormone Crazy Town - see above.
4. Uterus of Doom - and the truth shall set you free! Or freak you the heck out, it all depends on your spin...
On Monday I took my floating President's Day holiday to participate in a rather unpleasant Procedure. At this point in the game all references to any Procedure will be capitalized to give due respect. This recent One was sufficiently horrific of it's own natural nature, the Potential Ones to Come don't sound any better, and so I shall take strides to not anger them further. Procedures (said with awe and reverence).
So, by now you've gathered a Hysterosalpingogram isn't exactly a pleasant fun happy time, especially when my body is so uncooperative we had to do the worst, most painful part of the Procedure three times. Three. I have a fairly high pain threshold so having to struggle to not scream at the doctor to get out of my business and cease the torture was a pretty significant moment for me. Important note: if your doctor suggests you take some Motrin before your appointment, don't be all stoic and "Oh, I'm used to cramps, I've got this", TAKE THE MOTRIN. I am not sure it would have helped the specific pain I experienced in those awful 5 minutes that felt like a lifetime of trying to get the balloon to stay inflated to hold the catheter in place, but I certainly didn't do myself any favors. My doctor, as well as the link above, indicated that the cramps experienced during the catheter placement would be tolerable and grossly downplayed the intensity of the experience. I was not prepared. Luckily once I had a moment to adjust to the placement the pain subsided considerably and I could calm down a bit.
All said and done, however, at least it was quick. About 30 minutes start to finish and at least half of that was being hustled around, changing and running into a door (yup, I totally did. With my face. There's a bruise). Lord love the women who were in there with me (my doctor, the radiologist and one or two nurses, I don't know if the second stayed) who weren't blind, could see how miserable I was and got the pictures taken in record time. I heard my doctor's comment of "well, that explains a lot" and felt a strange surge of relief thinking whatever it was we finally had an answer. I heard my doctor ask the radiologist if the hospital was equipped to do 3D Sonograms but no one seemed to know for sure. I don't know if everyone was triple booked or what, but the frantic run around pace didn't stop as people bustled back out of the room as quickly as I'd been bustled in. My doctor stayed and turned the screen to show me the live-time pictures of the confirmation we'd made that I have a bicornuate uterus (see also), at this point of unknown variety, hence the need for the Sonogram, then left with a promise to "call me soon".
When we first started out down the diagnostic path I was not ready to believe that my uterus was the problem. I was sure my fix would be with some supplemental progesterone and in March we could give it another go, sure the third time would be our charm. As we went further along I was more and more worried about having to face the issue that couldn't be fixed with pills. Though right now I am incredibly relieved and thankful for my health as determined by extensive lab work, thankful to have an answer, but the staggering number of questions that have manifested is overwhelming. For those of you who are gamer minded, it's like finishing a time consuming quest chain only to find at the end another 3 side-quests open up and you have no idea which one to start first (it's a stretch, go with it).
Where are we now? Waiting and wondering. Waiting for a call from my doctor who I think is trying to figure out how to get a 3D Sonogram scheduled so we know what flavor of bicornuate we're dealing with. Wondering if the ultrasound will definitely give us the information we need or if there's a chance we will still have to do an MRI and if it's enough of a dice roll should we just go straight to the MRI even though it's more expensive because doing both would be the most expensive option of all. Then what of that horn separation? Is it thin enough to give a quick snip and release or is it a more substantial division that would need more substantial surgery and time to heal? What are the risks of surgery and what kind of surgery are we talking about? Is laparoscopy an option or will we need to do something open-abdominal? Will I be bumped to the category of high risk pregnancy or just a high risk delivery? Am I already in that category? Will I come out of it? Will surgery even be an option at all when it's said and done? And even if we do a surgical correction will that REALLY fix the issue and increase our chance for success or are we wasting time trying when we really should be pursuing alternatives. Am I ready to handle the possibility that I might not be able to carry our child?
Things just got heavy.
Thank goodness I married such a wonderful man who could find a silver lining: now that we know I have a two-horned uterus we understand why I get so evil every three weeks.
Humor doesn't erase the seriousness of big issues, but it sure helps a lot. I've heard comments about my positive attitude through all of this, but I honestly couldn't imagine the alternative. Without hope and humor an already crummy situation would be downright miserable and suffocating. In the end things are going to happen as they will happen and all we can do is take each step along the way, praying for the best that is meant for us, whatever that might be.
Check List
1.
2.
3.
4. Uterus of Doom - and the truth shall set you free! Or freak you the heck out, it all depends on your spin...
On Monday I took my floating President's Day holiday to participate in a rather unpleasant Procedure. At this point in the game all references to any Procedure will be capitalized to give due respect. This recent One was sufficiently horrific of it's own natural nature, the Potential Ones to Come don't sound any better, and so I shall take strides to not anger them further. Procedures (said with awe and reverence).
So, by now you've gathered a Hysterosalpingogram isn't exactly a pleasant fun happy time, especially when my body is so uncooperative we had to do the worst, most painful part of the Procedure three times. Three. I have a fairly high pain threshold so having to struggle to not scream at the doctor to get out of my business and cease the torture was a pretty significant moment for me. Important note: if your doctor suggests you take some Motrin before your appointment, don't be all stoic and "Oh, I'm used to cramps, I've got this", TAKE THE MOTRIN. I am not sure it would have helped the specific pain I experienced in those awful 5 minutes that felt like a lifetime of trying to get the balloon to stay inflated to hold the catheter in place, but I certainly didn't do myself any favors. My doctor, as well as the link above, indicated that the cramps experienced during the catheter placement would be tolerable and grossly downplayed the intensity of the experience. I was not prepared. Luckily once I had a moment to adjust to the placement the pain subsided considerably and I could calm down a bit.
All said and done, however, at least it was quick. About 30 minutes start to finish and at least half of that was being hustled around, changing and running into a door (yup, I totally did. With my face. There's a bruise). Lord love the women who were in there with me (my doctor, the radiologist and one or two nurses, I don't know if the second stayed) who weren't blind, could see how miserable I was and got the pictures taken in record time. I heard my doctor's comment of "well, that explains a lot" and felt a strange surge of relief thinking whatever it was we finally had an answer. I heard my doctor ask the radiologist if the hospital was equipped to do 3D Sonograms but no one seemed to know for sure. I don't know if everyone was triple booked or what, but the frantic run around pace didn't stop as people bustled back out of the room as quickly as I'd been bustled in. My doctor stayed and turned the screen to show me the live-time pictures of the confirmation we'd made that I have a bicornuate uterus (see also), at this point of unknown variety, hence the need for the Sonogram, then left with a promise to "call me soon".
When we first started out down the diagnostic path I was not ready to believe that my uterus was the problem. I was sure my fix would be with some supplemental progesterone and in March we could give it another go, sure the third time would be our charm. As we went further along I was more and more worried about having to face the issue that couldn't be fixed with pills. Though right now I am incredibly relieved and thankful for my health as determined by extensive lab work, thankful to have an answer, but the staggering number of questions that have manifested is overwhelming. For those of you who are gamer minded, it's like finishing a time consuming quest chain only to find at the end another 3 side-quests open up and you have no idea which one to start first (it's a stretch, go with it).
Where are we now? Waiting and wondering. Waiting for a call from my doctor who I think is trying to figure out how to get a 3D Sonogram scheduled so we know what flavor of bicornuate we're dealing with. Wondering if the ultrasound will definitely give us the information we need or if there's a chance we will still have to do an MRI and if it's enough of a dice roll should we just go straight to the MRI even though it's more expensive because doing both would be the most expensive option of all. Then what of that horn separation? Is it thin enough to give a quick snip and release or is it a more substantial division that would need more substantial surgery and time to heal? What are the risks of surgery and what kind of surgery are we talking about? Is laparoscopy an option or will we need to do something open-abdominal? Will I be bumped to the category of high risk pregnancy or just a high risk delivery? Am I already in that category? Will I come out of it? Will surgery even be an option at all when it's said and done? And even if we do a surgical correction will that REALLY fix the issue and increase our chance for success or are we wasting time trying when we really should be pursuing alternatives. Am I ready to handle the possibility that I might not be able to carry our child?
Things just got heavy.
Thank goodness I married such a wonderful man who could find a silver lining: now that we know I have a two-horned uterus we understand why I get so evil every three weeks.
Humor doesn't erase the seriousness of big issues, but it sure helps a lot. I've heard comments about my positive attitude through all of this, but I honestly couldn't imagine the alternative. Without hope and humor an already crummy situation would be downright miserable and suffocating. In the end things are going to happen as they will happen and all we can do is take each step along the way, praying for the best that is meant for us, whatever that might be.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
The Learning Curve
I have learned a lot. Most importantly that the baby process is not as easy as 1+2=3. At least not always or for everyone. I think the first time success-ers are the lucky ones. The ones like me, who truck along in our blissful ignorance, have a much more challenging road to hoe. Even more so when we are oblivious to the pile of "what-ifs" we may be up against.
In my experience not many people are willing to share their pregnancy difficulties, and I don't blame them for keeping their privacy, but the advice and knowledge I have received from one-on-one supporters who have been there and done that is invaluable and, quite frankly, information I wish I'd had almost a year ago. When Clif and I decided to start trying to grow the family that was all there was to it; make the decision and start trying. If I had known then what I know now our approach might have been quite a bit different. Wishing I'd had that knowledge is a big part of the reason I asked Clif if I could go ahead and post this blog, even though we were having trouble. My hope is to have a bit of therapy, keep our friends and family in the loop and, maybe, help even one person out there who is in the same boat and feeling completely overwhelmed by something that turned out to be not so easy.
At our 8 1/2 week appointment with the midwives, when we found out we'd lost the second, I leaned very quickly to opting for the D&C procedure (last time we'd taken the medicated route). I wanted to try to save a little bit of time, get the process over with and move on down the road and the midwives wanted answers to our genetic makeup to see if that was contributing to our difficulty. I was not at all convinced that was the case but if they wanted it I was ready to trust they knew best, but by that evening I'd decided not to have the procedure in favor of the medicated route again. It was a shock when I received a call the next morning asking to do my pre-procedure questionnaire in preparation for my appointment the following morning.
Breaks. Procedure? Scheduled for Thursday morning? The midwives said I could see the doctor Wednesday afternoon to ask her advice for making the best decision and then she would try to fit me in her Friday schedule if she could. I didn't want to be hasty about having the D&C if there wasn't a great benefit to it and I had come up with so many questions, on top of feeling bolstered to just try one more time before pulling out the hoops to jump through. I felt a little bit panicked as I called the doctor's office to plead for them to let me talk to the doctor before they scheduled me. The nurse was wonderful, calming and assured me we could work it all out. They would hold my appointment but leave the option to cancel for whichever decision I made.
I'd gotten a lot of suggestions for things to ask the doctor when I saw her and I laid the questions and concerns on pretty thick. I said I was ready to give it one more go and questioned the information, or lack of, that could be gained by doing the D&C. If the info gathered was iffy or limited and it was a 'well, let's try it and see' situation I was backing out. She assured me we would be able to gather valuable information either way: a solution to a problem or ruling out an entire category of issues we wouldn't have to even think about any more. We had the opportunity to get some answers one way or the other and she very strongly suggested we take it. I felt confident in her analysis and agreed.
The morning of the D&C could almost be its own story but to sum it up it was much less terrifying than I thought it would be and full of kind hospital staff, drugs, a goody bag with staff-signed thank you card and hilarity. Have you ever met Tipsy Amy? You should see the Post Anaesthetised one...
My follow-up appointment was two weeks later. Unfortunately we didn't have any test results yet but what we lacked in those we made up for in more questions and confusion. The midwives were calling genetics, the radiologist who'd confirmed our miscarriage said my uterus was to blame, someone mentioned blood clots and several story-sharers were suggesting hormones as the culprits. When I asked the doctor about these posibilities she suggested she was happy to help me find some answers but I couldn't help feeling like she didn't know she was going to be the one doing that. My confusion grew not knowing if she is who I should be asking all of my questions or if I was supposed to see her for the tasks then go back to the midwives for the solution. I had no idea what the right procedure was or who I was supposed to be talking to about what and who was supposed to help me try to make sure our pending third attempt would be successful. Was there a right way to do all of this? No one seemed to be very forthcoming with those answers and I feel like I've been grasping for straws.
I'm due back in a week or so for some more blood work and I am prepared to get some solid answers and a plan of attack. Now that I've had a chance to process some I feel better prepared to take ownership of pulling this team together and getting something accomplished. For those of you who may be dealing with a similar circumstance and are also grasping at straws, here are the things I have learned along the way that are forming my next steps to success:
Check List
1.Genetic Incompatability - let's just call it that, it seems to cover a multitude. Barring spontaneous issues we have determined our genes like each other. Party!
2. Bad Blood - one suggestion was that I might be throwing tiny little clots that are causing a problem. Hopefully this will get answered in a couple of weeks.
3. Hormone Crazy Town - when I was in for the D&C my doctor mentioned in an off-hand manner that my progesterone was a bit low. I'm not sure why we haven't jumped on that bandwagon with a little more gusto but I'll be asking that question when I go in for bloodwork. So far her answer has been lose some weight, which, let's be honest, if I didn't struggle so hard with it that wouldn't be an issue in the first place, but thanks.
4. Uterus of Doom - there are a couple schools of thought here: the radiologist thinks this could be a real issue and wants to pop me in an MRI, the doctor rolled her eyes in a very doubtful manner and said MRI is overkill and we could do a much simpler dye test if I really wanted. She said even a decently heart-shaped uterus should correct itself during the course of pregnancy and didn't seem convinced that should be a big concern but for me it's still on the table.
We are supposed to wait for two cycles to let my body "normalize" before trying again. That's two months and it's been one. I have one left to get some answers before we get back on this crazy train.
In my experience not many people are willing to share their pregnancy difficulties, and I don't blame them for keeping their privacy, but the advice and knowledge I have received from one-on-one supporters who have been there and done that is invaluable and, quite frankly, information I wish I'd had almost a year ago. When Clif and I decided to start trying to grow the family that was all there was to it; make the decision and start trying. If I had known then what I know now our approach might have been quite a bit different. Wishing I'd had that knowledge is a big part of the reason I asked Clif if I could go ahead and post this blog, even though we were having trouble. My hope is to have a bit of therapy, keep our friends and family in the loop and, maybe, help even one person out there who is in the same boat and feeling completely overwhelmed by something that turned out to be not so easy.
At our 8 1/2 week appointment with the midwives, when we found out we'd lost the second, I leaned very quickly to opting for the D&C procedure (last time we'd taken the medicated route). I wanted to try to save a little bit of time, get the process over with and move on down the road and the midwives wanted answers to our genetic makeup to see if that was contributing to our difficulty. I was not at all convinced that was the case but if they wanted it I was ready to trust they knew best, but by that evening I'd decided not to have the procedure in favor of the medicated route again. It was a shock when I received a call the next morning asking to do my pre-procedure questionnaire in preparation for my appointment the following morning.
Breaks. Procedure? Scheduled for Thursday morning? The midwives said I could see the doctor Wednesday afternoon to ask her advice for making the best decision and then she would try to fit me in her Friday schedule if she could. I didn't want to be hasty about having the D&C if there wasn't a great benefit to it and I had come up with so many questions, on top of feeling bolstered to just try one more time before pulling out the hoops to jump through. I felt a little bit panicked as I called the doctor's office to plead for them to let me talk to the doctor before they scheduled me. The nurse was wonderful, calming and assured me we could work it all out. They would hold my appointment but leave the option to cancel for whichever decision I made.
I'd gotten a lot of suggestions for things to ask the doctor when I saw her and I laid the questions and concerns on pretty thick. I said I was ready to give it one more go and questioned the information, or lack of, that could be gained by doing the D&C. If the info gathered was iffy or limited and it was a 'well, let's try it and see' situation I was backing out. She assured me we would be able to gather valuable information either way: a solution to a problem or ruling out an entire category of issues we wouldn't have to even think about any more. We had the opportunity to get some answers one way or the other and she very strongly suggested we take it. I felt confident in her analysis and agreed.
The morning of the D&C could almost be its own story but to sum it up it was much less terrifying than I thought it would be and full of kind hospital staff, drugs, a goody bag with staff-signed thank you card and hilarity. Have you ever met Tipsy Amy? You should see the Post Anaesthetised one...
My follow-up appointment was two weeks later. Unfortunately we didn't have any test results yet but what we lacked in those we made up for in more questions and confusion. The midwives were calling genetics, the radiologist who'd confirmed our miscarriage said my uterus was to blame, someone mentioned blood clots and several story-sharers were suggesting hormones as the culprits. When I asked the doctor about these posibilities she suggested she was happy to help me find some answers but I couldn't help feeling like she didn't know she was going to be the one doing that. My confusion grew not knowing if she is who I should be asking all of my questions or if I was supposed to see her for the tasks then go back to the midwives for the solution. I had no idea what the right procedure was or who I was supposed to be talking to about what and who was supposed to help me try to make sure our pending third attempt would be successful. Was there a right way to do all of this? No one seemed to be very forthcoming with those answers and I feel like I've been grasping for straws.
I'm due back in a week or so for some more blood work and I am prepared to get some solid answers and a plan of attack. Now that I've had a chance to process some I feel better prepared to take ownership of pulling this team together and getting something accomplished. For those of you who may be dealing with a similar circumstance and are also grasping at straws, here are the things I have learned along the way that are forming my next steps to success:
Check List
1.
2. Bad Blood - one suggestion was that I might be throwing tiny little clots that are causing a problem. Hopefully this will get answered in a couple of weeks.
3. Hormone Crazy Town - when I was in for the D&C my doctor mentioned in an off-hand manner that my progesterone was a bit low. I'm not sure why we haven't jumped on that bandwagon with a little more gusto but I'll be asking that question when I go in for bloodwork. So far her answer has been lose some weight, which, let's be honest, if I didn't struggle so hard with it that wouldn't be an issue in the first place, but thanks.
4. Uterus of Doom - there are a couple schools of thought here: the radiologist thinks this could be a real issue and wants to pop me in an MRI, the doctor rolled her eyes in a very doubtful manner and said MRI is overkill and we could do a much simpler dye test if I really wanted. She said even a decently heart-shaped uterus should correct itself during the course of pregnancy and didn't seem convinced that should be a big concern but for me it's still on the table.
We are supposed to wait for two cycles to let my body "normalize" before trying again. That's two months and it's been one. I have one left to get some answers before we get back on this crazy train.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Devastated
The past two months have been a roller coaster of excitement and anxiety. After waiting our doctor-prescribed amount of time to start trying again we found out we were pregnant almost immediately and beyond excited. But it was excitement laced with fear and worry. Clif and I both found it hard to not share our good news, however, so we started to share it in the hopes of gaining as much positive energy as we could. Positive energy is a miraculous thing, sadly for us right now it wasn't quite miraculous enough.
Just before going out of town for Thanksgiving we squeezed in the door for an extra-early ultrasound at just over six weeks. The technician was dubious she'd be able to see very much so it was an incredible blessing when she showed us the strong, steady flicker of a heartbeat on the screen. Statistics said once there is a heartbeat there is less than 10% chance of something going wrong. Needless to say, that was heartening news.
Today we went back for our official 8 week ultrasound and learned it's a good thing we aren't betting people.
Over the past several weeks, in an effort to try to relax, I changed my prayers to be less single-minded about success and more focused on seeking patience, peace, calm and acceptance of whatever the outcome may be as we went along. Tonight the acceptance is hard, really hard. I'm sad and angry and can't help wondering what is wrong with me (we lost both at the same time of development), it feels so unfair. This week is going to be awful and there is a huge part of me that doesn't want anything to do with the several unpleasant appointments looming, but I'll get through them. Then we'll try again.
Just before going out of town for Thanksgiving we squeezed in the door for an extra-early ultrasound at just over six weeks. The technician was dubious she'd be able to see very much so it was an incredible blessing when she showed us the strong, steady flicker of a heartbeat on the screen. Statistics said once there is a heartbeat there is less than 10% chance of something going wrong. Needless to say, that was heartening news.
Today we went back for our official 8 week ultrasound and learned it's a good thing we aren't betting people.
Over the past several weeks, in an effort to try to relax, I changed my prayers to be less single-minded about success and more focused on seeking patience, peace, calm and acceptance of whatever the outcome may be as we went along. Tonight the acceptance is hard, really hard. I'm sad and angry and can't help wondering what is wrong with me (we lost both at the same time of development), it feels so unfair. This week is going to be awful and there is a huge part of me that doesn't want anything to do with the several unpleasant appointments looming, but I'll get through them. Then we'll try again.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Some Downs
At that point where one of two things seriously needs to happen: hormone therapy or pending baby.
I think I have been having a more difficult time than I will let on, or even recognize in a conscious way. Lucky for me that's the way it works, you can be ok but still be sad and hurt for the loss. I think as a defense mechanism I've adopted the being ok thing and clung to it like a life raft. Every pregnant mother and newborn face I've seen in the past two months has kicked up my mantra of I'm ok.
And I am, really, but I've had more times of less ok than I'd like to admit to. I don't know why that is, why it's so hard to be ok with feeling sad and, in some ways, resentful, I think those are natural feelings. I guess I just want to be tough and logical, knowing that set backs happen and it's not the end of the world. Once I started learning to act more with thought than feeling my logical brain has a hard time letting my emotional one out of the cage for fear of it running rampant into the sunset.
A couple of weeks after we learned I miscarried I geared up for an exciting opening day at Ren Faire, my home away from home and a welcome distraction. I barely made it half of a day before I went home with a rock of emotion the size of a basketball rolling in my stomach. Two words: Baby Explosion. I don't know what happened last year but folks have been busy. Between the plethora of mothers-to-be due at any moment and the gathering of the newborns I felt like I was in the Matrix, that part where Neo faces off to an entire city of Smiths. The difficulty was magnified as I watched two friends bond over a beautiful new little one, to me the physical embodiment of loss that extended past our own child and to a level of friendship I'd been dreaming to have and felt completely locked out of. A physical moment of standing on the sidelines watching a scene I'd been dreaming of for myself for years. I know that is cryptic but I try to walk a line between sharing my feelings and... well, not getting too detailed.
It almost felt like the gun at the starting line, after that all I could see were other people's blessings and joy. Friends on Facebook posting pictures and announcements left and right, like everyone had been waiting until right then to share the same excitement that I would have been a part of but wasn't. I realize that is a ridiculous thing to think, but I couldn't help it. Of course I was, and am, happy for everyone I know who gets to share their news, it's just not without a touch of bitter sadness.
The autumn is already a challenging time for me; I love it and it hates me right back. My nesting syndrome kicks into overdrive and my mood swings violently into the realm of sustenance by PJs and the glow of the tv. I like to be home, I'm less social and get my energy by just existing, trying to do much more than that stresses me out. This year all of that has been magnified 10-fold. A Sense of Impending Doom has settled over my head and I'm struggling to find my way out. The other night I was so distraught, sad, angry and ill-feeling I took a pregnancy test for no other reason than a desperate hope I might have a valid reason, or any reason at all, for being so crazy. I knew that wasn't the reason for my mood swings but I was grasping for anything that could make sense in the midst of suffocating depression with no solid root to remove.
I'm feeling a little bit better today and am gearing up for another day at faire on Saturday. Faire or elsewhere I'm going to continue running into reminders of our setback, it's keeping a level head and remembering that setbacks are part of the process, in the midst of my pre-established seasonal moodiness, that will be a challenge. Hopefully better today means I'm climbing up the other side of this little hole, and hopefully there won't be another one so big on the other side.
I think I have been having a more difficult time than I will let on, or even recognize in a conscious way. Lucky for me that's the way it works, you can be ok but still be sad and hurt for the loss. I think as a defense mechanism I've adopted the being ok thing and clung to it like a life raft. Every pregnant mother and newborn face I've seen in the past two months has kicked up my mantra of I'm ok.
And I am, really, but I've had more times of less ok than I'd like to admit to. I don't know why that is, why it's so hard to be ok with feeling sad and, in some ways, resentful, I think those are natural feelings. I guess I just want to be tough and logical, knowing that set backs happen and it's not the end of the world. Once I started learning to act more with thought than feeling my logical brain has a hard time letting my emotional one out of the cage for fear of it running rampant into the sunset.
A couple of weeks after we learned I miscarried I geared up for an exciting opening day at Ren Faire, my home away from home and a welcome distraction. I barely made it half of a day before I went home with a rock of emotion the size of a basketball rolling in my stomach. Two words: Baby Explosion. I don't know what happened last year but folks have been busy. Between the plethora of mothers-to-be due at any moment and the gathering of the newborns I felt like I was in the Matrix, that part where Neo faces off to an entire city of Smiths. The difficulty was magnified as I watched two friends bond over a beautiful new little one, to me the physical embodiment of loss that extended past our own child and to a level of friendship I'd been dreaming to have and felt completely locked out of. A physical moment of standing on the sidelines watching a scene I'd been dreaming of for myself for years. I know that is cryptic but I try to walk a line between sharing my feelings and... well, not getting too detailed.
It almost felt like the gun at the starting line, after that all I could see were other people's blessings and joy. Friends on Facebook posting pictures and announcements left and right, like everyone had been waiting until right then to share the same excitement that I would have been a part of but wasn't. I realize that is a ridiculous thing to think, but I couldn't help it. Of course I was, and am, happy for everyone I know who gets to share their news, it's just not without a touch of bitter sadness.
The autumn is already a challenging time for me; I love it and it hates me right back. My nesting syndrome kicks into overdrive and my mood swings violently into the realm of sustenance by PJs and the glow of the tv. I like to be home, I'm less social and get my energy by just existing, trying to do much more than that stresses me out. This year all of that has been magnified 10-fold. A Sense of Impending Doom has settled over my head and I'm struggling to find my way out. The other night I was so distraught, sad, angry and ill-feeling I took a pregnancy test for no other reason than a desperate hope I might have a valid reason, or any reason at all, for being so crazy. I knew that wasn't the reason for my mood swings but I was grasping for anything that could make sense in the midst of suffocating depression with no solid root to remove.
I'm feeling a little bit better today and am gearing up for another day at faire on Saturday. Faire or elsewhere I'm going to continue running into reminders of our setback, it's keeping a level head and remembering that setbacks are part of the process, in the midst of my pre-established seasonal moodiness, that will be a challenge. Hopefully better today means I'm climbing up the other side of this little hole, and hopefully there won't be another one so big on the other side.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Some Ups
8:00 this morning, doctor's office closed. 8:30, still closed and wondering if closing at noon on Friday meant closing forever. 9:00 finally open and bracing myself for the news. So thankful that it's all good! We confirmed my blood type, learned my iron levels are great (excellent news since they've been slacking in the past) and everything else is just fine, nothing even close to being a borderline concern. Due back on Friday for more blood work to see how things are returning to normal in preparation to keep trying.
Sorry for the fear leakage but maybe it can be a goal of medical personnel to consider how the tone of a message could be wildly misconstrued by a raging hormonal recently ex-pregnant woman who is overly prone to freaking the heck out even when there isn't a valid biological excuse. Please and thank you!
Sorry for the fear leakage but maybe it can be a goal of medical personnel to consider how the tone of a message could be wildly misconstrued by a raging hormonal recently ex-pregnant woman who is overly prone to freaking the heck out even when there isn't a valid biological excuse. Please and thank you!
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