Our Sweet Boy

     So I made the decision to see a reproductive endocrinologist (RE). I have gone back and forth on this decision a lot because I didn't want to feel like I was over reacting. I know that sounds lame, but my OB seemed to feel that he could run the basic RLP b/w I needed and that an RE at this stage wasn't necessary. Well, of the tests he ordered, all of them came back "normal". The only little thing was I did test positive for one copy of the MTHFR C677T mutation. From what I have found online though, this isn't considered to be a factor by most doctors unless my homocysteine levels are elevated. The only problem is that my OB didn't order a test to check that. In fact, he didn't even mention the mutation... which sort of pisses me off. I get that it is not uncommon and that it is not always a factor in RPL, but I am a little annoyed bc it's still not "normal." It seems like there are two camps of opinions... some think it's a bigger deal and a factor in RPL and some just don't.
    
     Anyway, I just don't have peace with trying again. My OB basically told me that he thinks we should try again and said that at least I know I can get pregnant ::blank stare::. He said he would perscribe progesterone when we are ready so that I can start taking it right after ovulation instead of waiting until I get a positive test this time. You know, just in case I have an LPD. I asked about cd3/7dpo bloodwork, but he didn't want to do it. I guess I just feel like I am at the end of the road with him when it comes to RPL and that if I want to continue any testing it will have to be with an RE... who probably actually knows what he's talking about. I was already on progesterone and baby aspirin this last time and still miscarried... so obviously that isn't doing the trick.

     After calling the RE and scheduling the appt, I had my OB fax over all my test results from the karyotyping and bloodwork. There on the first page in the middle were the words, "46, XY, Male." Obviously, I am not a guy so this surprised me. Of course once I read the top of the page, I saw it was my results from the chromosome testing they did on the baby. I knew these results would be in the paperwork, but I guess I was just a little surprised to see them so clearly on the first page without having to dig and read through everything.  Our sweet boy. We were going to have a little boy.

     I was so so so sure that he was going to be a she, lol. I just had this feeling while I was pregnant for those 10 weeks that it was a girl. I guess my intuition is just as screwed up as my uterus. Regardless, it seems so much more real to know that our baby was a boy. I was going to be his mom. He was my son. I have a son. I had a son. I may have only carried him for 10 weeks, but he was a part of me yet so completely different and independent and his own little person. He was all boy.  My heart hurts to know that I should have been able to keep him alive. That I was his mom and was supposed to protect him and keep him safe. I feel like I failed him because he was perfect. It's just so sad. I'm just still so sad.

Give Me Faith

I need You
to soften my heart
and break me apart

I need You
to open my eyes
to see that You're shaping my life

All I am
I surrender

Give me faith
to trust what you say
That You're good
and You're love is Great

I'm broken inside I give You my life

I need You
to soften my heart
and break me apart

I need You
to pierce through the dark and cleanse every part of me

All I am
I surrender

Give me faith
To trust what You say
That You're good
and You're love is great

I'm broken inside
I give You my life

I may be weak,
but Your Spirit's strong in me
My flesh may fail,
My God You never fail

Give me faith
to trust what you say
That Your good
and Your love is great

I'm broken inside, I give You my life


I may be weak...

Kutless

Everybody falls sometimes
Gotta find the strength to rise
From the ashes
And make a new beginning

Anyone can feel the ache
You think it's more than you can takeBut you're stronger
Stronger than you know

Don't you give up now
The sun will soon be shining
You gotta face the clouds
To find the silver lining
I've seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn't ever end
Even when the sky is fallingI've seen miracles just happen
Silent prayers get answered
Broken hearts become brand new
That's what faith can do

It doesn't matter what you've heard
Impossible is not a word
It's just a reason
For someone not to try

Everybody's scared to death
When they decide to take that step
Out on the water
It'll be alright

Life is so much more
Than what your eyes are seeing
You will find your way
If you keep believing

I've seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn't ever end
Even when the sky is falling
I've seen miracles just happen
Silent prayers get answered
Broken hearts become brand newThat's what faith can do

Overcome the odds
You don't have a chance
(That's what faith can do)
When the world says you can't
It'll tell you that you can

I've seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn't ever end
Even when the sky is falling
And I've seen miracles just happen
Silent prayers get answered
Broken hearts become brand new
That's what faith can do
That's what faith can do

Even if you fall sometimes
You will have the strength to rise

Blessings

So the purpose of this blog was originally for me to write about and reflect on the blessings that I often forget about during this whole mess. I feel like I haven't really done that though. It's so so so hard to focus on the positive when you just want to wallow. I sort of feel like it's similar to when I go for a walk and I catch myself just starring down at the pavement in front of me and not looking up to enjoy where I am and the scenary around me. The walk becomes so much more enjoyable when I don't just focus on the ground (or the lowest point) the whole time. It also seems a lot shorter too!

One of the things I am most grateful for through this entire experience has been my rediscovered relationship with my mom. We have always been "close," especially when I was growing up. My parents have been divorced since I was two, and even though she was remarried for a time, she acted mainly like a single parent to me (think Lorelai and Rory)! Anyway, I moved out of state to marry DH and we haven't lived close to one another for about four years. Back in July 2011, she made the move from WI to S. FL and now lives about twenty minutes away. I admit that having her so close again has been a little bit of an adjustment. I guess I was just used to my routine with DH and having my mom back around and close by changed some of that.

All of that said, my mom has been such a rock for me through all of this. She was with me in the OB's office when I found out about my first m/c (DH couldn't be there bc he was helping with his best friend's funeral the same day). She saw me meltdown and completely took over. She went on auto pilot and just completely helped me cope through each situation. She came over and spent the night the night I miscarried naturally. She washed the bedding and the clothes afterward so I wouldn't have to. She put away all the reminders of our babies so I wouldn't have to. She made dinners, and lunches, and breakfasts. She's come with me for my bloodwork bc I am a wuss when it comes to needles, and she's met me for lunch at work most days since my latest loss so that I can just sit in the car and cry if I need to.

She has been so supportive, and I am so incredibly blessed to have her nearby. I cannot imagine living this nightmare without her. It's a blessing I want to recognize more than I have because even though I wish things were different, and that I hadn't had one miscarriage (let alone three), and that I was still 36 weeks pregnant today, I am so grateful for the mom I have, and the new, redefined relationship we have discovered through this experience.

The words I can't say.

A Letter from Women to their Friends and Family
by Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer
I assert no copyright for the material. Please use it as you see fit to help women who have endured this terrible grief. Thank you.

Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2002

When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said to them. The lists tend to be remarkably similar. The comments are rarely malicious - just misguided attempts to soothe.

This list was compiled as a way of helping other people understand pregnancy loss. While generated by mothers for mothers, it may also apply similarly to the fathers who have endured this loss.

When trying to help a woman who has lost a baby, the best rule of thumb is a matter of manners: don't offer your personal opinion of her life, her choices, her prospects for children. No woman is looking to poll her acquaintances for their opinions on why it happened or how she should cope.

-Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible.

-Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out. ( I am particularly sensitive to this comment after my most recent loss because we know for a fact that there was absolutely nothing wrong with our baby. Results showed a perfectly perfect baby.)

-Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never disposable. If had been given the choice between losing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children. (Again, this one is particular hard for me to hear given my losses. I don't know that I can/will successfully carry a baby to term. I believe I will have children, but I don't know for sure...so this offers me no comfort, in fact, it highlights and serves as a reminder of my losses and that so far, I havent been able to "just have another one.")

-Don't say, "Be grateful for the children you have." If your mother died in a terrible wreck and you grieved, would that make you less grateful to have your father?

-Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy or just after birth, I loved him or her.

-Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine - or yours.

-Don't say, "Now you have an angel watching over you." I didn't want her to be my angel. I wanted her to bury me in my old age.

-Don't say, "I understand how you feel." Unless you've lost a child, you really don't understand how I feel. And even if you have lost a child, everyone experiences grief differently.

-Don't tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who had it worse. The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six times, or that I could carry until two days before my due-date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories frighten and horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair. Even if they have a happy ending, do not share these stories with me.

-Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone. (This is a HUGE one for me. I really resent the friends who can't acknowldge my losses and instead just don't talk to me for a few weeks and then want to catch up like nothing ever happened. This was easier when I had only miscarried once, but given that this has now been an ongoing struggle for my husband and I, I cannot pretend that it didn't happen.)

- Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so angry at my body you just can't imagine. ( I am working through tremendous guilt that I have not been able to carry my babies to term. I know there is nothing that I could have done, but my body failed me, and it failed them.)

-Don't say, "Well, you weren't too sure about this baby, anyway." I already feel so guilty about ever having complained about morning sickness, or a child I wasn't prepared for, or another mouth to feed that we couldn't afford. I already fear that this baby died because I didn't take the vitamins, or drank too much coffee, or had alcohol in the first few weeks when I didn't know I was pregnant. I hate myself for any minute that I had reservations about this baby. Being unsure of my pregnancy isn't the same as wanting my child to die - I never would have chosen for this to happen.

-Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say it and mean it and it will matter.

-Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear that.

-Do say, "I have lighted a candle for your baby," or "I have said a prayer for your baby."

-Do send flowers or a kind note - every one I receive makes me feel as though my baby was loved. Don't resent it if I don't respond.

-Don't call more than once and don't be angry if the machine is on and I don't return your call. If we're close friends and I am not responding to your attempts to help me, please don't resent that, either. Help me by not needing anything from me for a while. ( I am aware that I have pulled away from a lot of my friends recently. Please do not think it has anything to do with you. It is about me. It is my only way of coping right now, and as I mentioned in an earlier post, for my own self preservation. If you are offended, I am sorry you feel that way, but I am not sorry for doing what's best for me right now.)

If you're my boss or my co-worker:
-Do recognize that I have suffered a death in my family - not a medical condition.

-Do recognize that in addition to the physical after effects I may experience, I'm going to be grieving for quite some time. Please treat me as you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one - I need time and space.

-DO understand if I do not attend baby showers/christening/birthday parties etc. And DON'T ask why I can't come.

Please don't bring your baby or toddler into the workplace. If your niece is pregnant, or your daughter just had a baby, please don't share that with me right now. It's not that I can't be happy for anyone else, it's that every smiling, cooing baby, every glowing new mother makes me ache so deep in my heart I can barely stand it. I may look okay to you, but there's a good chance that I'm still crying every day. It may be months before I can go a whole hour without thinking about it. You'll know when I'm ready - I'll be the one to say, "Did your daughter have her baby?" or, "How is that precious little boy of yours? I haven't seen him around the office in a while."

Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear with me.

Gungor

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

Purgatory

Some days are harder than others.

This weekend was pretty good though, and I think it's the days that don't seem like I am stuck doing the ordinary that I find leave me feeling the most positive. I think this is because I am able to say that I'm still living and enjoying my life, regardless of where I thought I would be at this point. For example, this weekend my husband and I took the opportunity to enjoy brunch on the beach and then laid in the sun under a cabana for a few hours. At one point, I leaned over to him and said, "you know, if things were different, I would be 35 weeks pregnant right now, and there is NO WAY, I would be sitting in this Florida, August heat and pregnant!" -regardless of which baby I was still pregnant with. Talk about a mood killer though, huh? I also wouldnt have been able to enjoy the bellinis and blood marys we had during brunch. But even though it was a nice day, my heart still got heavy as soon as I made that comment.  My heart is always heavy, but it is heaviest when my mind wanders and I start to think about what I would be doing... if things were different. It's easier for my mind to wander when I am in my regular routine. I suppose this is because I can pretty much make it through my work week on auto-pilot which lets my brain think to much about my grief, but even when we try to get out and break the monotony, I find that my mind still inevidably wanders back to my babies.

Unfortunately, today has been hard. Days at work are generally hard anyway. I have a coworker that is a week behind what I would have been if I had not miscarried our first. She stopped by this morning to introduce her new GAs for the semester and seeing her and how big she has obviously gotten hurts because it is a blarring reminder of my baby and how he isn't here. It's not my coworker's fault that I don't want to see her though. In fact, I like my coworker very much, and I even consider us friends... but since my miscarriage, and subsequent miscarriages, I have found that I have distanced myself from so many people who either have small children, are expecting, or are even trying to conceive. Anything baby related has become off limits to me, and I know that's not fair to the people who have been/want to be in my life, but it's my only way of coping right now. It's self-preservation.

I feel like I am stuck in this awful purgatory where everyone else is able to go about their lives with their babies and move forward, but I am stuck with my feet in cement and can't move. I want to be happy, and I want to experience all of the joys that they have been so blessed to experience, but I'm unable. I don't understand why I can get pregnant (relatively easily in fact, and I can even see healthy heartbeats, but when we get to the 10-11 week mark, things don't go our way.) I've heard all sorts of statistics saying that once you see a heartbeat you have anywhere from a 5-8% chance of miscarrying...I'm no math whiz but that means that the chances of having consecutive miscarriages after seeing a heartbeat each time is below 1%. It just does.not.make.sense.

Gosh, I am rambling today. I am pretty sure most of what I just wrote makes no sense... and that's what happens when your fingers start taking over for your brain. I'm going to call it a day now, and find some wine... lots of wine.

Grace is Sufficient

What are you gonna do
When the doctor comes
Into the waiting room
Puts his hand on you
And says I'm sorry?
What are you gonna say to God
When all you do is pray to God
To take the thorn away?And all you hear Him say is:

My grace, My grace
My grace is sufficient
My grace is sufficient

What are you gonna do
When your neighbor walks
Into your living room
And you to tell him
Who could deliver them
Like He delivered you?

What are you gonna say to God
When all you do is pray to God
For them to know His name
And all you hear Him say is:

My grace, My grace
My grace is sufficient
My grace is sufficient

My grace, My grace
My grace is sufficient
My grace is sufficient

It's all you need

What are you gonna say to God
When everything you prayed to God
Came your way but you forgot to thank Him?
And all you hear Him say is
My grace

Am I still sad?

So on my birthday, a family member who will remain nameless because I love them so much and do not wish to draw attention specifically to them, wished me a happy birthday and asked me how I was doing. I gave my standard/canned, "alright, trying to move forward and be positive" to which they replied, "oh, so you're still feeling sad?" ::head desk::

I almost had to laugh. I found it that funny... really. What would someone expect me to say? "No, actually, I'm ecstatic! I just found out that I lost my third pregnancy, and that the baby was completely normal and healthy and that it is most likely something to do with me! I'm just giddy over this news!"

Yes, I am still sad. My most recent d&c was only three weeks ago. I still have pregnancy hormones in my system thanks to the pleasant reminder of the faint positive hpts I am still getting... and no, I am not peeing on pregnancy tests bc I am hoping to some how magically be pregnant still. My doctor suggested doing it once a week to track down my hcg levels until I get a negative so that I know when I will start to ovulate again, but I digress. My point was that yes, I am still sad. Of course, I am still sad. I think a part of me will always be sad. I know it will become a smaller part as time moves forward. But time only moves so fast. Yes, I imagine that six months from now I will be a stronger, emotionally healthy person, but that doesn't happen overnight. I have to wake up each morning for roughly the next 180 days to get to that imaginary point six months from now where hopefully I will be a little less sad.

I have a pandora charm bracelet that my mom got me after my first loss. She got a little charm with a sapphire to represent the birthmonth of the baby we expected to welcome next month. I treasure it because it reminds me that even though this baby only existed for 11 weeks, it was so loved and so wanted. Over the course of the last several months, the bracelet has since taken on even more significance as we sadly added additional charms for the losses of our sweet babies. But for my birthday, my mom got me a little clock charm. She told that it represented time, and that time is what would be the thing to make things better. I know she's right.

Third Day

 

When the rain comes you think that everyone has gone away
When the night falls you wonder if you shouldn't find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do
I can't stop the rain from falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain, but I will hold you till it goes away

When the rain comes you blame it on the things that you have done When the storm fades you know the rain has fall'n on everyone
So rest a while
It will be alright
No one loves you like I do

I can't stop the rain from falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain, but I will hold you,
I can't stop the rain from falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain, but I will hold you till it goes away

And now I am 27

So yesterday was my birthday. Normally, this is a cause for great celebration. My mom has always made a huge deal out of them, and I have always looked forward to my birthday each year as this exciting, magically day. I know that as we all grow up, this day becomes less exciting to many, but not for me.

All of that has changed though. This has been a difficult year, and I am sad. I am tired, and I feel such loss... and for whatever reason, as my birthday approached, I began to dread the day. It was a day filled with so many "supposed to be" milestones and the idea of turning a year older was filled with mixed emotions.

I have always been a planner, and for the most part, my life has gone pretty much according to this plan. I met a lovely, perfect boy in high school, fell in love, and married him, I graduated from a good college, got a good job, started graduate school, bought a nice house, practiced my parenting skills on two sweet puppies...and it only made sense that I would become a mom next. This plan that I have followed has also always included the idea that I would have a child when I was 27. My mom was 27 when she had me, and for some reason the age of 27 has always represented motherhood.

But the likelihood of my "planned motherhood" seems to have vaporized into thin air. I was "supposed to be" 35 weeks tomorrow with our first sweet baby (we called him peanut). Celebrating my 27 birthday with a huge, round, fat belly. I had imagined taking one last, final vacation to celebrate this day as we entered the last few weeks of just being a twosome... but that isn't the way it is. But then if that wasnt the way it was really "supposed to be" then surely it was supposed to be that I would be 19 weeks pregnant on this birthday, celebrating my birthday by cutting into a cake filled with either pink or blue filling and learning if our baby would be a he or a she... but as quickly as we discovered our second "would be" blessing, that too disappeared. I guess that wasn't really how it was "supposed to be."

The grief and the tears are still most fresh from what I had truly started to believe would be our "supposed to be" baby. Just a few weeks ago, I had had a conversation with my husband sharing my cautious excitement that we might actually get to announce our pregnancy at a birthday BBQ this weekend... but again, I guess that wasn't "supposed to be."

I am blessed beyond measure in so many areas of my life, but when it comes to motherhood, it just wasnt "supposed to be" this way, and yesterday, my 27th birthday, served as a painful reminder of all the plans I had made, all the hopes I had started to believe would become real, and all the dreams I had so naively bought into.

It is easy to blame God, and to be angry in this situation, but I'm not... really, I'm not. If anything, this horrible nightmare that has gone on for far to many months has made me rely on Him so much more. Everyday, I wake up and make a conscious choice to believe that He is preparing my heart for something that will make all this heartache worth it. He is teaching me that his plans are greater than my plans, and I am choosing to submit my will and the planner in me to his will. It's a process. It's a fight that I have every morning in the car when I cry on the way to work. Because everyday I question why this is happening to me, and why things are the way they are, and why they aren't the way they're "supposed to be." And then everyday, I try to make myself believe what Isaiah wrote... that his thoughts are nothing like my thoughts, and his ways are far beyond anything I could imagine (Isaiah 55:8).

No real reason

Hi,

There's no real reason for this blog. I guess I just felt like I needed a place to put all things that touch my heart. I feel such immense loss and sadness after finding out that we lost our third pregnancy at 10 weeks, but dont really have the heart to actually write about it; maybe one day I will. For now though, this is my place to keep all the words, songs, pictures, and verses that help me cope. If anyone ever runs across my little piece of the internet and happens to be going through the same thing, or something similiar, or something entirely different but grieving nonetheless, I hope you find some peace in the things that bring me comfort.

Mercy Me



Why?
The question that is never far away
The healing doesn’t come from the explained
Jesus please don’t let this go in vain
You’re all I have
All that remains

So here I am
What’s left of me
Where glory meets my suffering

I’m alive
Even though a part of me has diedYou take my heart and breathe it back to life
I’ve fallen into Your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide

Breathe
Sometimes I feel it’s all that I can do
Pain so deep that I can hardly move
Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You
Lord take hold and pull me through

So here I am
What’s left of me
Where glory meets my suffering

I’m alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I’ve fallen into your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide

It’s the moment when humanity
Is overcome by majesty
When grace is ushered in for good
And all our scars are understood
When mercy takes its rightful place
And all these questions fade away
When out of the weakness we must bow
And hear You say “It’s over now”

I’m alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I’ve fallen into your arms open wide
When The hurt and the healer collide

Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here
When the hurt and the healer collide [x2]

Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here