Pushing the Reset Button

Last Friday, we arrived at Johnson’s office around 3 p.m.  After making sure I was sufficiently loopy, antibiotic-ed, and dilated, we had our 2^nd d&c .  I had hoped that on our way in things would have started happening on their own, but they didn’t.  I felt guilty; I felt nervous; I felt angry that we had to go this route and just pray that there will be no scarring or other issues as a result.  Fingers are tightly crossed.  

I know I’ve said it before, many times, but Johnson really is a wonderful doctor.  She is human and caring.  She jokes with us and talks matter-of-factly about the baby we will have soon.  “This is actually great. You won’t have to be pregnant in summer.  You can be pregnant in the winter, have the baby around July or August and have next fall for maternity leave.  This is going to work out great.”  She is optimistic for us, when we often don’t feel so optimistic. 

Not surprisingly, this recovery has been so much easier.  Maybe it is because only the sacs developed and so everything was toned down, hormonally.  Maybe because we had known for over three weeks that this wasn’t going to work out, so all the sadness, the grief, had already played itself out.  I also don’t feel such an all-encompassing drive about when we will try again.  The teeth-clenching feeling that “I MUST GET PREGNANT, NOW.”  That isn’t there this time, at least in the sad, desperate way it was before.  I think if I have learned anything, if this has prepared me at all for anything, it is having limitless amounts of patience.  Something I severely lacked before.  And no matter what happens, patience is a good thing to cultivate.  It will serve me in my work with high school students, even more so with my high school teaching colleagues (excluding those of you who are probably reading this; seriously, you are my sanity at work), and in the hopeful future I envision of being a mother.

I think what is still hard this time around is seeing the enormous amount of pregnant women and new mothers that Portland seems to breed like skinny hipsters with mustaches and birds on things.  It is amazing to me how many of them I see in my day-to-day life.  What I also notice is they all seem to be a bit older.  Or maybe being a new mom just makes you look really old? Sometimes I want to ask not, “How old is your baby?” but “How old were you when you had that baby?” I want continued reassurance that it is possible, even though I know of at least two women who are slightly older than I am who just had and will have a baby soon.  My head knows, my heart is just slow to believe.

So in many ways it seems we are back where we started around this time last year, but obviously so different from who we were then.  Physically, I am continuing to do acupuncture, yoga, a basketful of supplements every morning, a mason jar full of slow-steeped raspberry tea every day, and Chinese herbs.  I am hopeful that we won’t be waiting as long as we did before for things to return to normal.  But at the very least, I know that it can take a very long time.  Patience.

And on a mental level, we’re doing some work, too. I know I said I wasn’t woo-woo in a previous post, but I guess that there are parts of me that feel intention and invitation are going to have to be part of this process for us.  In the fall, we had painted the eventual baby room.  After the miscarriage in November, we literally shut the door and kept it shut.  We have since opened it.  I went on a Nikki McClure binge, one of my favorite artists.  She does fantastic papercuts around the theme of motherhood, among other things.  We have framed a number of them and put them around the house.  Part of it is about inviting this experience into our life and part of it is about feeling happy and hopeful when I see images of a pregnant woman amidst sunflowers, a mother holding a child in a garden, instead of feeling sad and hopeless.  Maybe it will transfer into the real world, maybe not.  But they are sweet prints to look at.    

We leave for a nearly three-week West Coast Tour this Friday and we are looking forward to getting the hell outta Dodge, seeing family and seeing friends.  My brothers and my best friend have not so new babies now that I have yet to and need to squeeze.  This will be our last hurrah before we come back and start a three-month ‘cleanse’ so to speak.  It takes about 90 days for an egg to develop.  During that time, so much of what you do can impact whether that egg is healthy and viable or not.  We will do what we can on our own to get the world’s healthiest egg (for sperm, it’s like 24 hours, but Brett is being a good partner by suffering for three months with me) before we try again.  I will start Mayan abdominal massage when we get back, and the practitioner also suggests giving it three months - man, the more I write about what I’m doing the more woo-woo I feel.  It works like acupuncture in the sense that it helps blood flow to the ovaries and uterus and makes sure everything is in the right place. 

So three months.   November.   That puts us smack-dab where we started.  Hopefully, this time, we’ll be ready.

If at first you don't succeed

If at first you don’t succeed, why try again?  No, not talking about getting pregnant, talking about this induced miscarriage. After a weekend of pills and dreading/hoping that things would move along, nothing has happened. 

We started the 2^nd attempt today and so far, 3 hours later, nothing.  As much as I did not want to have another D&C and am nervous about the potential for scarring, I feel more inclined to do it. We leave in a little over a week to spend a few weeks all over California and it’s true that we could be gone that whole time and nothing would happen.  I will be 10 weeks on Friday and most of the time, these things resolve themselves before 12 weeks.  But they can also drag on for longer.  But there is also the chance that we could be anywhere when my body finally realizes that there is no baby to be had and starts to miscarry.  There is also the possibility that even if I did miscarry naturally I would still need the D&C if for some reason the bleeding were quite heavy.  Now, here is where making the decision becomes easier. 

I would much rather have the D&C performed by Johnson, in her office – this fabulous OB/GYN who knows my story, knows my fears and concerns about the D&C and even though I know she would prefer not to do it either - she will be cautious and careful and caring.  I do not want to find myself in some ER somewhere in California and in the hands of a stranger.  I don’t want to be sitting in a workshop in San Diego and realize that it is happening and have to get back to my hotel room to wait it out.  Nope, definitely don’t want that either.  So as much as I really wish we had other options, this one seems the most hopeful, the safest, and will allow us to at least have half of the summer remaining where we can feel free and light and have some closure.  That part sounds really nice.

Johnson’s wingman told us last Friday that in his 30 years of being an OB he has yet to see uterine scarring from a D&C.  I keep hearing his words in my head as a hopeful reminder. I want to believe him and his mustache makes me want to trust him.  It does.  But I waffle on this decision.  I just wish it would happen on it’s own already – Why, body, do you force me into this corner? Part of me feels like it would likely happen this weekend, the symptoms are fading, nearly non-existent and it seems like it is only a matter of time.  But the damn waiting.  So sick of the damn waiting.  And I don’t know how to go by in the day-to-day without it feeling like we are waiting, restricted by something, not really living while this thing continues on.  We are in our own little purgatory around here.

And we haven’t even started the part where we wait for my cycles to return again.  If it is like last time (and my acupuncturist assures me that it won’t be) we are looking at months.  Hopefully, she is right and it won’t be months this time. It’s not as if I’m starting from square one this time around.  I’ve been taking lots of supplements, herbs and vitamins so things are not where we started nearly a year ago.  Hopefully, my body can get back into the swing of things pretty quickly.  Hopefully.

So, by late tomorrow afternoon, I won’t be pregnant, again.  A friend recommended a book to me, Coming to Term, written by journalist Jon Cohen, who suffered ‘recurrent miscarriages’ (the medical term) with his wife while trying to have their second child.  He went on to investigate the issue of recurrent miscarriages, the medical studies, interventions and preventions by interviewing researchers and couples.  One lead researcher at Columbia concluded, “For most women, early losses are a sign that things are working.  They’ve made it over lots of hurdles.” Cohen continues, “Odd as it might seem, miscarriage, then, often represents a sign of hope.” 

I like to think so.

Our little phantom menace

I really wish I had a punching bag right about now.  Maybe it’s the progesterone dropping or maybe it’s just that this phantom menace is taking its sweet ass time to leave my body already and I just want it out.  Just go already!  

We had our final, follow-up ultrasound to confirm what we really already knew – not viable, no embryo, just an empty gestational sac and yolk sac. The ultrasound tech was the same woman we had back in November.  “Wow, you sure don’t have very good luck with us, do you?”  I said.  It really helped that she is now about 6 months pregnant - what a fertile jerk!  I think that the next time I am in Johnson’s office, I might ask if one of the requirements for ultrasound tech is social awkwardness and the ability to be completely silent.  I wanted to let her know that we already knew the bad news, so she didn’t have to act all weird around us, unless that was just her personality. 

Johnson wasn’t there to talk with us afterwards, but we met with another OB.  He actually was Johnson’s wingman during the hysteroscopy procedure in April.  He’s nice and fatherly.  We asked him about further testing and what he thought we should do next and he gave us some good advice, “Nothing really.” It seems that he is in agreement that we are just really unlucky.  And, there are so many things that can go wrong in a pregnancy and so few real fixes for them.  He says to just keep trying.  He advised that the next time I am pregnant I should definitely take progesterone, not because he thinks it does all that much, but it doesn’t hurt to take it. 

He explained again about the misoprostol/cytotex that I opted to take to bring on the miscarriage and how that would work and sent us on our way.  So yesterday morning, I rose bright and early and inserted 3 of the 6 tablets.  Then I waited.  I waited for what I’d read and heard would be intense cramps/contractions as my cervix dilated and my uterus started to expel everything.  I made coffee, made breakfast, watched some of Season 1 of ‘Dawson’s Creek’ – kickin’ it old school this summer as far as television goes.  Then I decided I might as well take a shower and get presentable; no reason to look crappy on a day like today.  By now, it was nearly 10:30 and I had taken the pills at 6:30.  I finally started mild cramping.  I thought it was going to get worse, so I took a vicodin, read a book and waited.  Felt pretty good, spaced out a bit.  And still nothing. 

By now, those of you who know me pretty well will guess what comes next. I became super bored of hanging around doing nothing, especially on such an awesome summer day.  So I decided to stain some wood pieces and finish working on the façade in the front of the house. Did some light gardening and rearranging the bedroom furniture. I had some lunch and still, nothing.  By 3 p.m., it was clear that nothing was going to happen.  I called the on-call doctor and she advised that I take 2 more pills at what would be 12 hours from the initial dose.  So we drank some Peroni, had some pizza and at 6:30, I took 2 more.  I watched ‘2010,’ read some, and then finally realizing that nothing was going to happen, went to bed.

It’s now 11 am on Sunday.  I spoke with the on-call doctor again this morning.  After some confusion about how much I had already taken and for how long, it was finally determined that I could do one more days worth of pills.  She called in the prescription to Fred’s.  They could not understand her message, so we had to wait for her to call back and for them to fill the prescription, so after 2.5 hours after my initial call this morning, I was able to start the 2^nd day of the meds.  I will take 2 pills every 6 hours for a 24-hour period.  I can’t think of the last time that I saw midnight, but guess I will tonight.  If this does not do the trick, then it means two things.  I am one of the unlucky 10% of folks who these pills do not work for (of course) and our only option will be a D&C. The one thing we were hoping to avoid at all costs.  I’m just really, really pissed right now.  I can’t seem to get pregnant and when I do and there’s no actual embryo, I can’t get rid of the damned thing.  If my grandmother didn’t read this blog, I’d be inserting so many f-bombs this page would be flagged as entirely inappropriate (do they do even do that?).

The only saving grace is that I plan on taking more vicodin in about an hour.  I am not very optimistic that the pills will work – why, you ask?  Because nothing so far in this stupid journey has worked, why would this go smoothly for us? Bitter and angry, yet? Check.  Annoyed and frustrated, yet?  Check.  Ready to move on?  Desperately so.

My Body is a Time Bomb

Yep, my body is a ticking time bomb right now.  At least it feels that way.  It’s strange to be walking around day-to-day and know that you are technically pregnant but that all of that could change any moment.  It’s hard to believe that it will, but yet, my mind is becoming more resigned to the fact that this pregnancy is not going to work out. 

My acupuncturist says that it is a testament to all the herbs and acupuncture that my body is continuing to hold on this long, “Your body really wants to be pregnant.” Tell me something I don’t know.  But I guess she is right, perhaps when we finally get it right, it will be a good thing that my body is able to hold on so long. 

When we first found out this second time, I wrote a blog entry that I was going to post once we made it past the 1^st trimester.  I read it again today.  We were so excited.  But in hindsight, there were two parts that caught my attention.  I mentioned that this pregnancy didn’t feel as ‘electric’ as the previous.  At the time, I thought it was due to my own mellow state of mind, but perhaps it was more about the fact that it was missing something – that little spark of life.  I think I thought it was good because it was different from before, but I didn’t realize it would be different in a bad way.

I also mentioned a dream I had a few days before we found out.  I’m not totally spiritual woo-woo, but I think that there is something to our subconscious.  In my dream I was holding two babies.  They asked me if I liked being a mommy.  I told them that I loved being a mommy.  I think I thought that maybe I would be having twins.  It was so strange. I wonder now if it isn’t these two pregnancies instead. Part of me hopes it is, this would make two and hopefully, with the next, we will have a happy, healthy baby.  Third times a charm, right? 

I also had two dreams where I was actually having miscarriages before we found out that this pregnancy wasn’t going to stick.  They weren’t as traumatic as you’d think and in some ways, I think they have mentally prepared me for what it might be like here in the next week or so.

My acupuncturist gave me some herbs to take that will help speed things up, my OB gave me pills – but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.  I have made one last appointment for an ultrasound on Friday to confirm what we pretty much already know.  I just need to see one last time that there is nothing there and then I think I will be ready to let this go.  So…I plan on spending this weekend high on Percoset and helping my body do what it doesn't seem to want to do on its own.  It doesn’t sound fun, but like before, it will likely be a relief to move on. 

We talked about what is next - adoption, fertility treatment, kidnapping (this one seems easiest and least expensive, although highly unconventional and likely to bring us lots of legal hassle) and we are just going to keep trying until we just can’t take it anymore.  Not sure what that looks like in actual real time.  We aren't ready to consider adoption, yet.  We aren’t going to see the RE, yet.  He will likely advise us to use donor eggs (not an option) or IVF (not affordable).  So our best chance is for me to really boost up the health of my own eggs – so it’s back to all the supplements and work I was doing before.  I’m fine with that, it made me feel proactive, healthy, and intentional.  And it is actually the only ‘medicine’ there is as far as egg health goes.  Western medicine can’t help out where this is concerned.  

It feels like the theme of our fertility journey is ‘back to the drawing board.'  And so it is that we will go back.  Brett seems to think that practice makes perfect, so I guess we’ll go with that thinking for now.    

One last thing, thank you to all of you who have reached out to me, to us.  It has meant so much.  When we came back from China, we did so in part because we missed our community of friends here.  It has sometimes been a real struggle to feel that sense of community since we've been home and have often felt adrift out here in NoPo, but your thoughts and words have meant so much to us and we appreciate each of you.