Monday, October 26, 2015

Talking it forward

Friday afternoon (CD 32) after feeling really broken, I started to see red blood.  it materialized into a short little period, but it was better than nothing and I don't think I need to fly to Boston to have my cervix poked at with sharp little scissors. Hallelujah.  I ordered some vitex to see if I can't try to re-regulate my cycle a little, here goes nothing.

So I was recently wondering if maybe I didn't need to see a therapist anymore.  I have survived the past year with most of my sanity intact.  Well, we spent the weekend with some really nice friends and I realized that I really have a lot of anger to work through and have to talk it out with someone neutral.

Long story short, my friends recently purchased a new house.  Let's just say they are well off.  But we learned there was a lot of financial drama leading to the purchase of their new home.  Now some of it was legitimately stressful, involving threats from contractors to put a lien on their old home, financing difficulties, all of the day to day business in life that can truly bring you down.  But going beyond the issue that these are pretty first-world problems, the whole time they are relaying this story to me and my husband, and using terms like "devastating" and "stressful" and "worst experience of my life," I am trying to nod my head slowly and emphatically, but really I'm thinking "Jesus, get a real problem.  You are living in a house that cost nearly nine-hundred-thousand dollars.  Want to experience devastation?  Try growing a baby in my uterus a few times"  And then I felt guilty about even thinking such ugliness, because if I am being honest, my husband and I have provided a comfortable (though not nearly as lavish) existence for Niblet, all while I advocate for people with some really fucked up financial problems, like "Do I pay the electric bill or do I buy food for my kids?" kind of problems..... So who am I to even have such obnoxious thoughts.

All of this long-winded diatribe goes to say is that I am carrying so. much. anger.  It's really dangerous territory to walk around feeling like your shitty experiences entitle you to more stress and anger than other people's shitty experiences.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Waiting and angry

My period is late and I am most definitely not pregnant. How many times I have I posted this?  What the fuck kind of life is this?

You know, I was noting to a dear friend that I used to be much much funnier on this blog.  Sure, I was discussing topics ranging from the horrible to the miserable, but could pull it off on the page with darkly comic flair.

Well, sorry if I am unintentionally conjuring up images from the movie Office Space, but I have lost my flair.  Maybe the gravity of endless dead babies sucked it out of me.  Why is this my life?  Why can't I just get a period on time and not worry that I have to fly to Boston for a really fucking painful hysteroscopy?  Why is everyone on facebook posting pictures of their babies or hugely pregnant bellies?  I've been in the thick of this hell for nearly four years, you would think that I would be hardened to it but I am not.

There's a new boss at my office, I'm talking the big boss, our President.  She runs the entire region.  She chain smokes like a chimney.  She has one teen-aged daughter to whom she is a doting mother, but makes her staff constantly listen to how she sacrificed a great deal of her personal life for her work (in social justice-y, mission-driven work, you actually often hear comments like this).  She's made public pronouncements about women having babies "too old to have fun with them" and while I respect her tenacity professionally, personally I try to avoid her like the plague.  I ran into her outside our building (smoking) and not thinking, I had clasped my side because well, my ovary was throbbing and this is the pain I deal with regularly now, and she asked if I was ok.
"I'll be fine."
"Do you need to see a doctor?"
"Nah, I'll be ok.  I've seen a lot of doctors."
"What's wrong with you?"
"I have a chronic health condition.  There's not much they can do."

And there you have it folks.  That's is the best I can do.  Five miscarriages, four D&Cs, three hysteroscopies and a bajillion ultrasounds, and I was able to cut her off at the chase and end the third-degree with the phrase chronic health condition.  BAM.

Brilliant or pathetic, I'm not sure which.  

Friday, October 16, 2015

My Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

 Image result for pregnancy and infant loss day 2015

Let's see, I awoke on the 15th in another City and State, because I was attending a staff conference in NY.

What I thought the day might hold:
 - Quiet introspection in my hotel room about my babies - so many babies - especially Celine.  Maybe I would grab a cup of coffee and sit and watch people go by, before my 9:30 meeting.

How my day unfolded:
 - At 8am I was brushing my teeth and one of my stacking rings fell down the hotel bathroom drain.  I frantically called the concierge, ugly crying, bawling.  Ten minutes later I opened the door to a Dominican maintenance dude who was out of his emotional depth and definitely not prepared to see such a hot sad blubbering mess wailing about a lost ring and dead baby.  Thankfully he took the pipe apart, cleaned the tiny band with a face towel and handed it to me.  And got a $20 bill for his efforts that he reluctantly accepted.

What I hoped the day might hold:
 - Maybe I would feel some signs of pregnancy.  Some sign of hope for something to rise from the ashes of this deep deep despair.

How the day actually unfolded:
 - Despite my best efforts, I symptom spotted all day. Not a twinge of a feeling.  Tested BFN last night (and again this morning).  I am anywhere from 9 to 12 dpo?  Either way, my fantasy of waking up tomorrow, on the anniversary of Celine's termination, with a new pregnancy is pretty much relegated to fantasy.

Friday, October 9, 2015

what will be blah blah blah

This cycle was so wonky I could be 5 dpo, I could be 2 dpo, perhaps I never ovulated at all.  Who the hell knows.

All I do know is that I am out of town for a good chunk of next week.  And the one-year anniversary of when I said goodbye to Celine falls on next Saturday, the 17th.  I am still trying to figure out what I can possibly due to memorialize her 

I'll be mourning my little girl and peeing on sticks in desperate futility.  Joy.

On other fronts, I found this fantastic piece written by an RPL warrior.  I LOVE how she grapples with the word hope.  It's like she's been sitting in on my conversations with my therapist for the past few months. 

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

personal vent

Can I just say that I am in the weirdest cycle ever?  Maybe because he knows we're winding down our efforts, husband is being very umm, attentive and making sure we do everything we can to catch that egg.  So I am trying to help the poor guy out.  I get the sense from him that he really wants our last ditch efforts in baby-making to work.  It's interesting, because on so many of the Over-40 boards, I read about ambivalence from spouses on having another baby.  Not in my house.  The words "Did we miss the window?" were spoken more than a few times in the past week.

I am on Day 16.  I thought I ovulated a few days ago, so if I did I would be around 3DPO.  But now my left ovary is all twinge-y and in pain, and I am wondering, did I actually ovulate?  Do I have a cyst?  Maybe my sad little ovaries just broken?

Friday, October 2, 2015

Timelines. They feel good.

So as always, my therapist was a great sounding board.  And here's where I am at:

I am going to continue NTNP for the next few cycles, three to be specific.  We'll just keep doing what we're doing.

If I am not pregnant by January, I will do a cycle with the leftover clomid I've stored in my house.  I have two packs, so I can do a clomid cycle in January and one in February.  Both would be un-monitored and well, kinda rogue.  I have used clomid before, never had any serious side effects or complaints.  I even had a pregnancy off of one of those cycles.

I turn 42 in March.  If I'm not pregnant by then, well, I have had a good run.

Now, I don't want to be misunderstood.  I'm not going on birth control or getting my tubes tied.  We would never put my husband through a surgery.  And since we actually like each other a whole lot, we'd likely still have plenty of sex during my fertile week.

But as of now, when I hit 42, I'm off the boards. No babycenter. Not even lurking. No more following other women's fertility struggles on a semi-regular basis.  Maintain my friendships with many individual woman I have had the luck to develop friendships with over the years?  Absolutely.  BUT, no more living vicariously through the miracle story of strangers on the interwebs who beat their crappy RPL/Asherman's/AMA odds.  The days of daydreaming - of imagining myself as someone who could one day provide a success story  - are over. 

I'll also cut out some - though not all - of my supplements.  I'm a mthfr-ing mutant after all.

Could I find myself pregnant after 42?  Well of course I could. I don't look at 42 as particularly old.  Fuck, I still pass for 35.  And I certainly don't feel any baggage about a geriatric pregnancy (were two words ever more awful when placed side-by-side?)

But can I take another 4 years of this?  Hell. No. 

This feels right.  For me, for my marriage, and for sweet Niblet.  My miraculous mini-me.