Validated

I started grief counseling.  It’s not something I ever thought I would actually do, even though the thought has crossed my mind many times.  I don’t have anything against counseling- I did it a couple times growing up for a few different reasons. I know it’s healthy, but I just thought I could handle it- writing my blog was my therapy.  But I started to feel buried in my pain, like I couldn’t find a way out.

Have you ever stood on your feet so long they go numb? Carried a weight so long you forgot what it felt like before it was there? What was I like as a person before I had this agony that I try to swallow every day? When 50 triggers happen daily and I choose to ignore them.  Triggers cause different kinds of pain too. Being baby hungry and not able to have a baby is different from grieving your lost ones, and different from watching others live out that dream, and different from feeling forgotten or cursed.  Different days seem to have different reasons to hurt.  I’m trying to figure out how to live with all of those feelings that come up.  Being the bigger person when people hurt you time and time again. Convincing myself I'm happy doing other things and filling my time in different ways, but knowing that's not really true. But you try to pretend it is, because you have to keep living somehow- wishing the world recognized my pain as deeply as it actually hurts.

It’s been happening more often lately.  One too many triggers at work or church and I come home and crumple on the floor in an anxiety-racked sobbing fit.  I hyperventilate and wonder "didn't God know this grief would destroy me?" I put more effort into the work world because I don't know of any other direction my life is going in.  In the middle of those panic attacks my life feels like it's drifting without a real worthwhile purpose anymore.  I'm lucky to always have my husband sitting right next to me, trying to steady me and let it pass.  It always happens when someone brings it up and discredits it somehow.  Like "at least they were early, that's not so bad." IT MATTERS TO ME.  They matter to me.  They were ours, my husband's and mine.  I've wished many times that they had died later on, so that people would at least credit their existence. The grief has lasted the same.  

Some people from the primary infertility world see me as an outsider, because I have a child, or because "at least you can get pregnant." Having an IUD placed after my 6th loss was one of the most painful things I've had to do, because of my ability to get pregnant so easily.  I have to prevent it because I know that baby will die until we have reason to believe it won't.  Waiting for that answer hurts. Waiting for a miracle hurts.  Whether it's grieving lost little ones or feeling sharp sorrow from primary infertility- looking at that negative test every month and waiting two more weeks to get your hopes up again.  It all hurts.  For three years it has racked my heart with more pain than I have known before.  I try my best to live through it, but sometimes I swear I don't even know how I could go off depression or anxiety medication to even be pregnant because it just takes one trigger and I'm a total mess. 

I try mediating, prayer, sleeping aids, whatever, but it just doesn't go away.  I'm trying to learn to live through it and believe it won't hurt like this forever.  But I'm still just waiting for something to happen.  I'm trying to make it happen, happiness.  Sometimes I have a few weeks where I do really well.  But sudden nights with a total breakdown and it all looks like an act. I just want to recognize myself again.  I want to use these experiences to make a better version of myself, not just surrender and let the ground swallow me up.  I always have this heavy guilt like if I just did better at this or that, it wouldn't be so hard.  I put it all on myself. Maybe they're right,  I'm fooling myself into thinking it was a bigger deal than it was, or I'm not faithful enough, and God must be disappointed in me.  But that's not what we learn about God.  Jesus wept with those who suffered,  why can't I just except that and use the support, and know that He feels MY pain, in all its intensity and layers and better days and the worst days.  If I would just hold on to that, I think it would get better.  I think my body is just sad, all the time, it's sad that it kept losing the new life that brought me the most happiness I've ever felt.  Do you even know the energy it takes to stay positive with a broken heart year after year?

It was so hard to make that call for help, but I want to start healing from the inside out. I feel like that grief and depression/anxiety has gotten worse as time has gone on and I'm afraid of conversion disorder where if we do get pregnant I will lose the baby because I'm so afraid to lose the baby. I'm hoping to find some help, and counseling is free through my job.

The second I got there I felt like it was a mistake. I thought, "maybe they'll think I'm attention seeking or weak or needy. I'm sure they see people much worse off and I'm not sure I belong here. I feel so embarrassed even just sitting in the waiting room."

It took a professional looking at me with sympathy and telling me "you have been through an immense amount of pain in the past three years" and just like that, my chest opened up and the pain spilled out. Pain was wrapping around my lungs and stealing my air, twisting around my heart, dropping into my stomach and it was a real, tangible, companion in that room. I ugly cried for the full hour, barely able to get the story out about what happened with each pregnancy and how my current emotional state was. I told her about the depression, and panic attacks. But it was so refreshingly cleansing to cry that hard. I don't know what was so different about sitting in a therapist’s office that took my hardened edge away, maybe just my inner soul exploding because I needed help and validation. I can't live with this front forever. It's exhausting.  I just want that bitter feeling of injustice that follows me around to go away, but I pretty much am at the worst age and living in the worst place to avoid triggering it, and once the angry feeling wears off it's replaced with a consuming sorrow, that I try to talk myself out of and count my blessings, but maybe what I needed to do was acknowledge those feelings and deal with them.

I told her I want other ways to manage that depression, anxiety, and grief because I don't just want to increase meds that I would need to titrate off of anyway to ever try again. I feel like I really need to be in a better place before we try again anyway because I would want stress and fear to harm a baby.  She wants me to write down three good things at the end of every day to make it concrete and help get out of that depression, and I want to try and focus on those areas that are hard for me. For example, good things that happened at church because that is one of the hardest places for me to be. I need to deal with those triggers. At the end of the session I apologized for crying the whole time and she told me "Don't be embarrassed, it's very normal and I'm actually impressed how well you're handling everything and how hard you're working already, and how many things you're doing to help yourself heal." I had the thought that perhaps that's what Christ would say if we could talk face to face. He wouldn't criticize me, but lovingly recognize the things I am trying, and offer me help with the rest.

Well I'm definitely not ready to try again yet.  The session made that clear to me because I felt like I just had poison pouring out of me.  I know I need to work through some of these things before I could ever survive another pregnancy.

She asked me about how I’ve memorialized the babies. I thought about jewelry I have, participating in the Wave of Light every October, and my new Christmas ornaments.  I think it all comes from this need to know that they are still mine.  I need to remember them.  How much I loved them from the very start.

 

Someone said something at work that triggered everything and was very hurtful to me. It wasn't even directed at me. I tried to brush it off, laugh it off, and just not think about it all night. In the five minute drive from work until I got home I was crying uncontrollably and hyperventilating. I battle that sadness every day but sometimes I just don't feel strong enough anymore and I just can't live like this anymore. Didn't God know this would do this to me, why would He want me to be like this?  I didn't used to be this kind of person and I try so hard every day to not be the way that I am- but a broken heart begs to be felt and I'm just not sure how to fix that. How am I supposed to deal with this more gracefully?

My counselor advised me to "Speak your truth, be assertive but not aggressive, help people understand how to talk to you, but if you carry hurtful things they say all the time and make it your own burden in addition to the grief it just makes the anxiety so much higher."  It’s still difficult to navigate the issue socially, because often hurtful statements are those that are made innocently, or not even directly to me, and I don’t think it would be appropriate in those situations to butt in and make the conversation about myself and “speak my peace” so I need to learn to make peace with myself first.

I've tried some interventions to help with the anxiety, particularly at night because that seems to be when I have most of my panic attacks.  I invested in a weighted blanket (like really invested- those things are expensive) and it works well for me.  It's relaxing and calming and really has lived up to it's reputation.  Hopefully I can find more things like this to help.  This blanket covers half of my bed and weighs 18 pounds.  

  

In other news, I finally got good news about my health.  It's been a while since that happened!  I have had chronic GI problems most of my life, but in the last few months they got a lot worse and I had some heavy bleeding, etc.  So I ended up having a colonoscopy, and was just waiting for more bad news of some other issue to manage.  Fortunately, everything went as well as it could have!  No issues that can't be managed with daily medication (I'm hoping it continues that way).  Turns out it was all just from the same issues I've had my whole life.  I am so relieved to have a test come back negative and not walk away from a doctor appointment with some new diagnosis for once.

Sometimes when I'm feeling impatient, it helps me to plan the next few steps in the journey.  I feel pretty strongly that I need to lose some weight before we try for another pregnancy.  I never had any trouble with weight until right after my first miscarriage.  I gained 20 pounds right away, and for the past few years even though I've done diet and exercise programs on and off I've still put on like another 40 pounds.  It's really discouraging.  Just admitting that it is a problem is hard because it never used to be.  I know that Hashimoto's doesn't help with your metabolism, but I would at least like to lose 20 pounds to know my body is in a healthier state.  I'm motivated to keep trying.  My awesome husband bought me a fitbit to help me keep track of everything through the day, and is very encouraging.  I also struggle to sleep without taking some sort of sleep aid or at least melatonin, and I'd like to get past that. Focusing on improving my health should help the next few months go faster.

If I ever start feeling impatient- all I have to think of is how much we need to do before we could try for a baby again. Kevin's issues need to be squared away, which could be soon, or a year from now (or never but let's not go there).  I would need to get my IUD removed, and titrate off my medication.  I would need to switch over several meds to be safe for pregnancy.  I need to lose that stubborn weight.  I need to make sure my thryoid is still within a good range. I'd need to start on aspirin, and eventually progesterone, and decide with my doctors if the Lovenox injections are even worth while.  Give up caffeine...that will be a tough one.  I'd need to start on my vitamin therapy, etc etc.  I'm sure there are lots more things we would need to get ready first.  It's overwhelming.  I know I need to be more emotionally stable.  I have to consider the stress of a pregnancy on it's own, and praying that a little heartbeat will show up on an utrasound.  That we can have a miracle baby- someone who fights through all the odds.  There are lots of logistic things to work out also.  I'm the only one with an income and all our insurance is through me- there would be lots to work out.  I would be so happy to work it all out if we were blessed with a baby, but for now I will try to focus on all those things that need to happen first.  

"Nothing is lost to the Lord" I've felt the truth of that statement resonate within me before and deep down I know all will be made right.  Families are forever. Patience is actually choosing not to wait- choosing to not wait to be happy.  Patience is being happy now, before we have all the answers.  

At a church dinner, I heard something I absolutely loved, "We sometimes wonder why we can't just do without the trial at all, since God could just stop it from happening. But God loves a good story, where his purposes can be unfolded and we can grow."

We're about two weeks away from the first test to see if Kevin's surgery was successful.  I'm not expecting full improvement yet because I know it can take up to 9 months, but I'm hoping for a drastic enough of a change that I know it is working.  Or just a full reversal of the problem that shows him 100% healed.  I would be ok with that too ;)

I feel like the holiday season is just in time this year.  Time to focus on Christ.  Time to feel love and be with family- time to be thankful for my many many blessings.  So many things in my life are going so well.  So many things have worked out in our favor.  I do try to focus on them, but sometimes you have to recognize the bad so you can feel more of the good. Even though I'm learning to manage the pain that comes with life, I'm still thankful for my two happiest things:

Pre-Op/ Post-Op

      We are feeling very thankful that the surgery is nearly a month behind us, and Kevin is doing really well.  He's healing normally, with no complications, and that is the most we could ask for.  We won't know for a while still if the surgery improved the DNA fragmentation or has changed our situation at all- so we are trying to make the most of life while we wait to find out.  I feel like I'm settling in more to life with one child, like acceptance has come for now.  Not as a permanent thing, but just to help me cope as we play the waiting game, the money saving game, the testing and no new results game, etc.

     Sometimes the shock of our ignorance is still there- from when Jack was born and from when we started trying for a second child three years ago.  We took so much for granted.  Even after one or two losses, I never anticipated the process taking so long, or thinking we could lose so many pregnancies. I distinctively remember one of my first thoughts after Jack was born was one of pure relief and I thought "I'm so glad I don't have to do that again for another few years, it's all over" I mean, it was a difficult vaginal birth, a 28 hour labor and a first baby weighing 9 lbs 4 oz. I had months of pain and trauma that they tried to control with vaginal injections (which, can I just say, were way worse than just dealing with the pain)  It was hard to walk or pee for a good five months and I didn't feel like myself again for about a year, but I never once thought that I might not get the chance again to bring life into the world.  I didn't know that I would crave it more than anything and beg God for another chance.

 I used to take comfort in saying things like "Well I'm sure we'll have another by the time he's 3 or 4."  Now I find myself thinking "Probably by the time he's 6 or 10." But I feel like reality has set in, and it's true that I don't know anymore, if it will ever actually happen.  It sounds like a fairy tale. People say "just adopt" like there is anything "just" about adopting.  Like it's not some huge, emotional, spiritual, involved decision.  Like it doesn't cost practically as much as IVF does.  "Just adopt" sounds like you can just pick a kid out at the store- as if it doesn't take years and years.  Sorry if that sounds like venting a bit, but it is a frustrating comment to me.  Adoption isn't just something we're "putting off until we've tried everything else."  It's literally not in the realm of possibilities for us at this time.  But I think it could be a few years from now, when Kevin is a practicing DPT.  We would love for our family to grow no matter how God intends for that to happen.  Although, after so many lost pregnancies. it would mean the world to me to have the pregnancy part of the experience and deliver a live child. 

 Some days I'm just fine. I have good days. I have days where I enjoy the benefits of only having one child. I enjoy all the perks of him being older now. I think we're doing pretty good and I accept how my life is going and just keep living it. And other days it suddenly hurts so bad that I think my heart is literally going to rip in two and fall out of my chest. But I guess that's how all grief is.  I'm thankful that work keeps me very busy.  I've started working my second job on the same floor at the hospital, and work occasional overnight shifts, so I'm certainly never bored. I love everything I'm learning and it makes the exhaustion worth it.

As the surgery came close, I started having some anxiety that we were going to spend all this money and go through all the associated pain with no yield.  I tried to remind myself that if this was the first problem we had found after one or two losses, we would be going in so happy- we would be sure that this was the problem to fix and then it would all be behind us.  I think I would have perfect confidence that it would work, but the last three years have hardened me a bit and I remember, even if this works and the DNA for the babies turns out perfect, they still don't know if I can carry because of my health issues. Only we do know, right? Because I carried Jack for more than 9 months! I cannot even let myself feel how desperate I am for this to work. It's our last chance for us to have kids on our own. After this, it's either IVF with genetic testing or adoption.

The surgery day itself was very long, and the procedure was postponed for several hours, but everything went as well as it could have.  When the surgeon met with my after, he explained that Kevin had four swollen veins that needed to be tied off to hopefully improve the DNA issues.  I'm glad that there were some obvious problems to be addressed.  The doctor was amazing- it was totally worth it to see a specialist.  I was able to handle my emotions pretty well through the day, and was able to breathe through the anxiety.  The only time I nearly burst into tears was when the doctor said, "Make sure to send me a baby picture when this is all over with ok?"  

The surgeon gave me this picture from the microscope of the veins they tied off.  Ouch.

When Kevin came out of surgery, totally out of his mind on drugs, with no inhibitions, he was telling me all about how much he would love to have another baby.  It was the sweetest thing, because I knew that was exactly how he felt.  Seriously, these drugs were a straight-up truth serum  (see video below if you want a good laugh.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ye-WYpG17c

Originally we knew it was a three month wait to find out the success of the procedure. At the hospital we learned that it is at least 3 months but quality can continue to improve for 6 to 9 months, which brings new question of how long we should wait again to test and to try to conceive again. We want to give our baby the best chance possible, even if that means waiting longer. Even if that feels unbearable.  I think it will all depend on how much improvement the first test shows. 

Being in the working world has helped me find new dreams and ambitions.  Sometimes I feel very lost when I consider putting them off with hope that our family could grow- and equally unsettled about pursuing any further education or career advancements when trying for a baby.  I imagine finally getting our miracle half way through a graduate program- would it be worth going into so much more debt?  I doubt I would want to work at all if we have more children- especially with Kevin's career supporting us.  Sometimes the sacrifices you end up making as a wife and mother are your own ambitions and dreams, for the greater good of the family. But I'm only 25, we have enough life left to have it all, and time to do all the things we dream of. I know Kevin will support me in whatever ends up being right for me in the end.  And truly I would put everything else on hold to watch our family grow. (But how long do I wait to see if that will actually happen?)

In other news, our big boy has officially turned 4 years old!  We had a wonderful weekend celebrating him and thinking of the joy he has brought to our lives.  And obviously, spoiled him rotten :)

Life is good- we are very much looking forward to our trip to Disneyland this upcoming week!!

Sneak Peak of our Family Pictures 2015!

An Open Letter to My Sisters Hurting from Loss and Infertility- Feeling Joy For Others

     I hear it all the time.  From support groups or Facebook pages, or in conversations with those in similar situations.  " I'm a bad person because..." and then a story follows.  Stories about situations that are painful, or offensive- triggers that caused us to cry in our car for an hour afterwards.  Whether the story is about a 18 year old drug addict who is having her second baby with lasting damage from a careless pregnancy, or hearing the news that her sister is having her third baby in the time since they've been trying for one, a story about a friend pretending to shoot herself with her fingers as she announced her 4th pregnancy, or someone saying "at least you only have one, you don't know how lucky you are." You are embarrassed by how much weight you've gained from clomid, or depression.  You dread going home to another day of self-injections, just to expect disappointment at the end of yet another cycle (while a coworker happily tells you that her pregnancy was a "whoopsie!")  You survived one more visit to the OB office (barely) with a less-than-sensitive provider, and a waiting room full of big healthy bellies and complaining expectant mothers, swapping pregnancy horror stories.  I've heard all of these and more.  I've experienced some of them.  We share these stories and then comment on how "we are bad people" because even though we know that new baby coming into the world should be a joyful thing, it ruins our day.  And that sucks.  No one wants to feel like that.  Likely you didn't feel like this before struggling to have children that you very much want.  A baby announcement used to be the happiest, most exciting thing in the world, and now a paradigm shift in your life has changed your response and you feel robbed of that joy.  I'm not immune to this, in fact, I've struggled with it quite a bit.  Some may call it envy, or trigger factors, but whatever you call it, it's relentless and it takes a lot of work to overcome.  It's a struggle to react sincerely when you feel like someone just knocked the wind out of you and you wonder "Will it ever be my turn for a miracle"? You worry about offending someone with your reaction to their happy announcement, or other news regarding healthy babies.  You envy their conviction that without a doubt those two lines confirming pregnancy, will in fact, result in a live birth. They mark a due date on the calendar, sure that by that time they will be full of life and ready to deliver. Why does it hurt when you are SO happy for them?  Because you ARE so happy for them, right?  Do you actually question this on occasion? I've thought a lot about this and I want to share my thoughts.

     The difficult and sad part about infertility/multiple losses is that you have to feel your own pain before you can swallow it and feel joy for others.  You can try to push it aside or ignore it, or tell yourself you're a "bad person" for feeling that stabbing hurt with every pregnancy announcement before you can force a smile and remind yourself to have empathy and feel that joy.  Eventually that joy does come, usually for me it's when I get to hold a newborn baby and wonder to myself how the announcement of their existence ever caused me to feel bitterness or anguish at all.  But it's not really the existence of another sweet child, it's the lack of existence of my lost ones that makes me hurt.  And sometimes, I think it's the lack of understanding or compassion we wish to be shown by those we are trying so hard to show happiness for.  Some people may get so used to your infertility, that as the years go by, it becomes "normal" to them, and maybe they assume it is hurting you less instead of more as time passes.  That pain demands to be felt when a trigger is presented, regardless if that trigger is positive or negative- hearing a friend's pregnancy announcement, or, for me, seeing that a patient in the ER is losing her baby.  Really, the pain from that trigger is the same, but we feel SO much worse about feeling sad because of someone else's joy!  But the longer I've worked at it, the better I am at swallowing that intense shock and hurt, and putting it aside to feel it later in a private moment.  I focus on feeling that intense joy for them- regardless of their ability to understand- because that's the support that I would want to be shown.  Who wants to feel sorrow every time they see a newborn baby?  It used to be the most blissful experience for me and I don't want it tainted.  I only miss my own lost angels.  For myself in trigger situations, I find it helpful to take a deep breath, then exhale and imagine those destructive feelings leave and try to find peace within myself.

     Other couples you may see having as many children as they desire is not a personal attack on you or your dreams (even though I know it really feels that way).  It is what should be "normal" if everything in this world worked ideally.  That feeling of "not being able to do what is natural and what all women should be able to do" is the part that hurts.  Sometimes taking a step back and asking myself "why is this bothering me" is helpful for me to identify the true culprit of why I am upset.  You may feel like an outlier, or even the outcast at work, in church, or maybe a "mommy group".  People may say hurtful or judgmental things to you, but in the end I remind myself "that family having another child really has nothing to do with me at all, why am I letting myself feel offended?" 

     It's true I long for the life that I see other mothers living that I pictured for myself.  My dreams have been pretty ordinary.  I never wanted to be President or play professional sports, or be a world famous musician.  I wanted to be a mother.  I wanted to have a large, happy family.  It would be my focus and what I would dedicate myself to.  I wanted to feel that amazing joy as I gave life to child after child and watch how they grow as part of our family.  Having children appears to be a pretty common ability, so you don't plan on that dream being so difficult or feeling so impossible- unobtainable.  Still, year after year, it feels so far away.  Patience is hard but I become increasingly thankful that I AM a mother, and that I have a child to pour that love and nurturing nature into.  I'm fortunate that I truly know what a blessing he is. 

     Before I stop to scold myself for feeling sorrow as I watch others live my dream, I have to remember, "What kind of mother would I be if I DIDN'T feel sorrow for my lost ones or my empty womb?  What if I didn't care?" What I'm feeling is mourning, and how a mother's love can hurt.  It's just as natural as that intense joy you feel as a mother.  Allow yourself to feel the intense pain, give yourself time and space, and avoid triggers if you need to- but also allow yourself to feel joy for others!  Imagine the burden that would be lifted from your life if you could learn to share in the joy of others, despite your pain.  Imagine the day that miraculous joy becomes yours and you want to feel that love and support from others.  It's no wonder there are "post-infertility" support groups.  These moms struggle with a new kind of guilt that they are now "one of them" and they don't know how to place their feelings. 

     We as women should try as hard as we can not to place a dividing line between us.  We are all in different places and have different struggles (some that we may be insensitive to others about without even knowing).  We can't hate women around us for having blessings we desire while we overlook our own blessings.  We are all daughters of God, we need the love and support of sisters all around us.  Don't hate yourself for feeling that pain, because it is a true and necessary part of this awful struggle.  If it was easy, it wouldn't be hard,  But, try not to harbor bitterness, you will be so much happier if you don't feed that part of your pain.  It's going to hurt- more than you could have imagined- but don't make infertility your whole identity, or fertility the whole identity of someone else.  It's a shallow way to think of ourselves ladies- there is so much more to all of us.  We all deserve to be loved and treasured- and we deserve to love ourselves.  I am not in a place to offer advice pretending that I am perfect.  This is an issue I have struggled with again and again.  Writing this is a huge reminder to me of the goals I expect myself to live up to.  I may not understand your pain or situation, but Christ does.  Turn to him in your darkest hour and remember that you are not alone in this heartbreaking journey, He is there with all of us, despite any of our shortcomings.  I wish all of you peace, strength through pain, and every miracle. 

A Missed Moment

Due date weeks are always hard.  June 11th was our due date for Loss #5.  Two of my friends found out they were pregnant the same time as I did last year and they both had their babies this week.  Those missed moments just never seem to get easier.  I can't help but sit here and imagine how different everything would be if I was 9 months pregnant right now, waiting to have the baby.  I don't mean to make this a "poor me" post, we have a lot of good things going for us right now, but I've learned it's important to take these little moments to mourn and let yourself feel sad or else you will lose your mind.

Regardless of what you try, a mother's heart will always remember the missed moments with her babies.  I went to a birthday party for a 2 year old recently and despite my best efforts to ignore it, looking at that cute little girl made me sad for my first loss, who was due about the same time and would be close to his or her second birthday.  Part of me can't believe that we're coming up on three years of struggling to have a second child. 

When I had my first loss (my second pregnancy) I couldn't imagine any more pain than there was in that moment.  I couldn't have wrapped my mind around the fact that we would lose 6 babies in a row.  It would have been incomprehensible.  Especially after having a healthy 9lb 4oz boy the year before who was our first pregnancy.  This is why God gives us a little at a time, and helps us grow trial by trial.  We get to take it a day at a time, week at a time, and eventually that turns into years.  We find strength to keep going that we weren't aware we possessed.  I remember the first three months after our first loss were unbearable.  They dragged on and on.  I couldn't wait to be pregnant again so that we could have a baby to fill our arms and take away the hurt of the loss.  When you are forced to wait you learn patience in a different way.

Three months no longer seems unbearable, but just part of a long term goal.  We try to hope and plan, but we talk in terms of years now.  In a way the pain has gotten better.  Once it's chronic instead of immediate and shocking you become more numb to it.  You are used to pushing through the difficult moments.  There are still hurtful things said that surprise you or unexpected situations that sting, but overall you have been made stronger.  I have been humbled so many times.  I have been brought out of darkness to be made aware just how great the blessings I have are.  I have so much more joy in my son.  Looking at his face is literally staring at a miracle every day.  It's like looking right at God's love for me, and looking at what inexplicable miracles can happen with His blessing.  Jack has amazed me for so many reasons, as only a child can amaze his or her mother.  My love for him is so great and I am in awe of him for so many reasons.  I'm thankful for his spirit in my home and for the constant reminder of what is possible with God.  The pain of my losses is often swallowed up in the joy I feel being with my family.  I am so lucky.

I'm glad I only have one more due date to get through for Loss #6 coming up at the end of this year in November.  Hopefully by that point we'll be testing to see if Kevin's surgery was successful in improving our chances of another live birth (by the way the surgery is officially scheduled for August 25th!)  Since we can test his DNA fragmentation rate without getting pregnant, I'm simply not planning on having any more losses.  One can hope. 

You always hear people say "Life didn't turn out the way I planned" and usually the stories that follow are fascinating, painful, and unexpected.  There is just no way to imagine what God has planned for us in so many areas of our life.  I never imagined 7 pregnancies in the first five years of marriage with only one live birth.  I never anticipated having an only child who will be much older than I wanted by the time he has siblings.  I couldn't have known how helpless I would feel when he asks me for a playmate or asks when we will have our own baby.

God helps us grow in faith, in love, in knowledge and education, in sympathy, in gratitude.  We couldn't do those things if we got to pick how things turned out for us.  I really have a testimony of that.  We can be obedient and patient and faithful- He will guide us the rest of the way.  Things really do work out ok in the end.  The end goal is for us to have joy.  We can't understand joy without being tested and feeling sorrow.  When I have my hardest days I have to remember that He has my best interest in mind.  I believe that even when I don't understand it and even when I'm angry.  I've had to confront more darkness following my losses than I've confronted before.  Many new studies are looking at recurrent pregnancy loss as a cause of PTSD, with the most common symptoms being depression and anxiety.  I've had to seek help for panic attacks, and depression, but I finally feel like I can win the battle.  It's possible.  I'm still battling many health problems I wasn't imagining would be part of my life.  Some of them are contributors to us losing children, some may be as a result of the pregnancies.  But I keep fighting.  Giving up really isn't an option, you keep living.  You keep dragging yourself to go exercise, to get out of bed, to go to work, to be a parent and a spouse, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  In the end, you are fighting for happiness.  Choose to be happy.  Life is still good.  All our heartaches are different, but in some ways they are the same.  Have a full life and choose joy even in pain. 

For my readers who are struggling with infertility or RPL, hope this brings a smile to your face.  It definitely made me laugh.

Surgery Bound!

A quick update on what’s going on with us.  We were able to get in to see the urologist who specialized in male infertility today.  I was very anxious for this appointment and hoped it would bring us some more answers as to why Kevin has such a high level of DNA fragmentation and oxidative stress- which may be adding to the reasons we keep miscarrying.  This doctor is supposed to be top notch in this area, and I’ve heard good reviews about him from many people. 

I was most afraid of him saying nothing was wrong.  Fortunately, he did find a Grade I varicocele when examining Kevin.  Grade I means that it is small- not yet visible just by looking.  However, they typically don’t resolve themselves and continue to slowly grow.  Even though it’s small, it is a big possibility that the varicocele is causing the fragmentation and oxidation.  Because of our history and meeting certain specifications, Kevin will be undergoing a varicocelectomy to remove it.  I'll spare you and avoid posting any pictures of the surgery ;)  After three months recovery time we will retest his fragmentation rate and hope against hope that it has resolved the problem.  If the fragmentation rate drops significantly, we will be able to try for a baby on our own again.  There is very good scientific data backing this up.  Couples who suffered from repeated pregnancy loss had a much greater chance of carrying a child full term after a varicocelectomy.  We wonder if perhaps Kevin hadn’t started to develop this varicocele when Jack was conceived.

 

There is a chance that the surgery won’t correct the problem.  If that is the case our only option left will be IVF.  Doing IVF can improve our chances, even with DNA fragmentation, because the embryos are monitored for proper growth (and sometimes tested for viable DNA) before ever being inserted into the uterus.  Also, doctors are careful with the quality of sperm they use to fertilize the eggs.  It is hard for me to wrap my mind around undergoing such a difficult procedure and paying 20,000 dollars to do so, when we have conceived seven times on our own.  I think of all the dozens of injections and the egg harvesting and my blood risks with multiples, etc.  I think of some of the ethical issues that may come up with “leftover babies” and all that other complicated stuff with embryo adoption.  It gets overwhelming quickly- but we will cross that bridge when we get there.  IVF is not a possibility for us at this time, so we will start with the conservative approach and see if the surgery corrects the problem.  If the varicocele is really the biggest issue, maybe we could have many more children without medical intervention (not that I’m getting my hopes up).

All of that being said, the surgery is 3800 dollars and nothing is covered by insurance.  Between the two of us we’re already paying between 200-300 dollars a month for medications and supplements.  I don’t have that kind of disposable income… But I have faith it will work out somehow.  I can’t imagine waiting a year and a half until Kevin is a practicing DPT to pay for this surgery…and just letting this thing grow inside him in the meantime.  We will try our best and I feel the Lord will help us a little at a time to pay for the help we need.

If all goes well we would be able to try again by the start of 2016.  I’m hoping to have another baby when Jack is 5…but that would be best case scenario.  He may be older by the time another miracle comes our way.  It’s hard to deal with an age gap for me emotionally because it’s not what I wanted for my children.  It gets harder every birthday and every month that you’re still not pregnant.  Every loss you think of the recovery time and trying again, and then that ten months it takes to have a baby.  But- God knows better than me, and long term it will be ok.  Our family may not be what we had in mind, but it will still be our family. 

I’m excited to finally have a more tangible problem with a straight forward solution.  Although, I have been giving Kevin a hard time because he gets to be asleep during the procedure and then go home on pain meds.  I think of all the painful procedures I’ve been through since we first got pregnant with Jack and I think “Are you kidding me!? You get to be asleep!”  haha.  I mean I’m happy for his sake, but man…all the injections, even the ones straight into the lady parts, the incisions in my arm, the daily shots in the belly, the pain of miscarrying, or even hearing “try to breathe through the pain of this cervical clamp.” And they put the men out. Hahaha- that’s why women are mothers right? J

We still don’t know how much of a contributor I am to the losses for sure.  So even if we can fix the fragmentation rate we aren’t positive of my ability to carry.  It’s a scary thing.  However, I carried Jack full term so I feel that it’s possible if the baby has healthy DNA.  We will be holding our breath for 9 months but I still think some hope is there.  We are skeptical naturally after going through six losses in a row, but we are trying to pull some hope out of our hearts that have been hardened a bit. 

We have some pre-op labs to do and such, and the surgery will probably be scheduled for late July or sometime in August.  Sometime between now and then I’d better figure out a way to pay for it…Perhaps we'll start a fundraiser called "Aw nuts, his nuts are broken" or "testicle festival" (his idea).

All in all. I’m just so glad that this is what I thought was happening, and then he actually has a varicocele.  Yay for not being crazy.

Thanks for all your love and support!!

Healing, Hashimoto's, and Getting Help

“Beneath the foulest mother's curse

No child could ever thrive:

A mother is a mother still,

The holiest thing alive.”

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

It’s been a few months since I’ve written, but I’m happy to say life is getting a little better.  It’s been a rough process recovering from loss #6, but I think I’m well on my way to being as well as I can be.  I have been blessed with everything I need to keep me going and find as much happiness as is available to me.  Some of this writing sounds pretty sad, but it got better as I got some help and it’s turned out ok.

Healing started with getting an IUD placed.  I wanted the IUD because I am so done with losses.  I never want to have another miscarriage.  I want to be done trying for a baby until we have a large reason to believe our next child will live.

I was trying to settle into the idea of inhibiting my fertility temporarily, and then my sweet little nephew was born not even 48 hours after our loss.  Fortunately, there is always a great deal of joy when a new person joins your family, and it swallows the jealousy for the most part.  I instantly loved him with my whole heart.  Yet, seeing such a precious child amplified my grief and I was very aware of my not-yet-all-the-way-empty womb.  It’s not an easy thing to walk into a maternity ward when your own pregnancy has just ended (but it was better once I was in my sister’s room).  It made it very difficult to follow through with the IUD placement, but I still knew it was the right thing to do long term. 

So I geared myself up for the IUD consultation.  It was a bit of a rough day.  Sitting in the waiting room of an OB office is a small form of torture.  Other moms sitting next to you munching on crackers, complaining of how sick and tired they are, and asking you how far along you are.  There are newborn pictures all over the wall and pretty much everything around you seems to be a small trigger saying “Hey, remember how your baby is dead?  Remember how they stopped growing and you’ll never get to have that ultrasound apt with them?”  Once I was in the patient room I could hear nurses whispering outside the door, "Infertility patient but needs an IUD placed? what? Oh well she gets pregnant but she's lost the last 6."  They decided to place the IUD the same day, and made me take a pregnancy test to confirm in the office.  The girl came back beaming “Ok it was negative- so the hCG is all gone and the pregnancy is totally over!  We can place the IUD!”  *thank you for that…this is actually the last thing in the world that I want to do…*

So during the procedure, as I’m trying to breathe through the pain of the cervical clamp, the doctor says “Oh good!  Your cervix is still a little dilated since you just had your baby…I mean, passed everything.” Really?  Do people even know the hurt they can cause? 

Anyway, I got through it and drove myself home and pretty much went  to bed for the rest of the day.  Fortunately the IUD has worked out well and hasn’t been causing me any lasting pain, and it’s non hormonal so it’s safe for my blood.  It’s the best case scenario for our current situation.

I bought myself a little necklace to wear as a reminder to myself of those babies I had lost, and to keep hope for the future. It reminds me that I haven’t given up despite having to take more drastic measures to avoid pregnancy at this time.  I like to wear it on days that I’m feeling extra sad or know I might encounter a difficult situation.  It sounds funny but I feel like wearing it gives me a little strength just knowing they aren’t forgotten.  I'm still their mom.

I’ve been looking forward to Kevin’s urology appointment- trying to hold on to the hope that they might find a cause for the DNA fragmentation, and even more that maybe they could do something to repair it.  How wonderful would that be?  Mostly I’m relieved that from now on, if we think we’ve solved the problem, we can just get Kevin tested again to confirm success.  No more “go ahead and get pregnant and see if the baby lives” kind of confirmation.  Even if that part takes years- it’s better than enduring more losses.  I am most nervous to hear a doctor say “We don’t know why and we don’t know how to fix it.”  That would be most devastating.

I wrote an email to my nurse and asked her if we could do some more thyroid testing.  I started to lose such a crazy amount of hair that I wondered if I was getting chemo and just didn’t know it.  I had tested positive for low tider ANAs a few years ago but the doctors never really tried to confirm a reason why.  I always assumed I had autoimmune troubles with my thyroid.  On days where I felt really thyroid sick I was miserable.  I explained to my nurse, “I'm freezing and shivering all day, I cry easily and feel so sad even about the smallest things.  My hair has been falling out to the point where it's nearly impossible to wear it down because it just covers my clothes.  It never stops coming out in clumps when I shower.  I just have these breakdowns feeling like the rest of my life I'm going to be freezing and sad and overweight and lose all my babies because I can't get my thyroid to function and stop attacking itself.”  Being cold doesn't sound like too rough of a symptom, but it starts to get to you after a while.  Like try standing outside without a coat for 20 minutes in 30 degree weather and see if you can stay in a good mood.  Focusing becomes very difficult, especially at work or in class.

So we did a new thyroid panel and sure enough- Hashimoto's Thyroiditis.  It’s not really a surprise.  My mom and grandmother have it.  I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before my little sister has it (sorry Mads).  But I was frustrated to have my suspicions confirmed.  Hashimoto's or Graves disease can cause miscarriage.  Normal range for antibodies not indicating an auto immune disease are 0-3.9, mine was at 57.5.  So it appears that I have been dealing with more than just hypothyroidism, but a “suicidal thyroid” as I call it- which guess what, is associated with miscarriage.  I swear if we get one more risk factor for miscarriage I might lose my mind.  I tried to list all our risks, even just to keep any new doctors in the loop.

Leiden Factor V (blood clotting)

MTHFR (folate problems, blood clotting, and lots of other “associated stuff”)

Low Protein C and Protein S (blood clotting)

Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis/Hypothyroidism  (I won’t list all the things this crappy disease does to the body, but suffice it to say that it is associated with miscarriage)

High level of DNA fragmentation in the sperm (infertility, recurrent pregnancy loss).

And we still need to get karyotyping of our chromosomes done for both of us.  They have to rule out that we don’t have Chromosomal Balanced Translocation.  That’s another explanation.  I will be so relieved if our chromosomes come back normal (please oh please oh please.)

I thought I would feel relief after getting the IUD placed. But I didn't.  I kept waiting for the settling feeling to come.  I know we can't get pregnant for a while.  Not until we figure everything out.  We need a break.  So why can't I settle into the idea of my life with Jack getting older and no other children coming?  I feel so weighed down with sadness.  Mourning our loss and trying to accept that the odds for the future are not in our favor.  I think I'm really starting to believe it might not happen again.  I think peace about the situation will come in time.  I'm just not there yet.  Even considering adoption is a headache.  So many factors, so much money, and so many reasons that it’s not a possibility for us at this time in our life.  I try to reassure myself  "We're not having more kids right now.  That's ok.  There are lots of other good goals in your life to focus on.  You are still young.  Even if it takes years and years more, either to give birth again or adopt, it will be ok.  The age gap will be ok.  Your heart will be full again and this empty feeling won't consume you in the years to come."

That dumb doctor that placed the IUD put a lot of doubt in my mind. Basically even if we had the money and resources to do IVF with ICSI and did embryo testing to see if it's viable- there is no guarantee that I could carry the baby.  She didn’t seem convinced I could carry to term. 

I kept telling myself- I have to start trying to get better.  For my sake and for my family's.  I missed a few doses of Deplin after the miscarriage and I felt that depression hit hard.  One night, all at once, I was overcome by my grief and anguish and my exhaustion.  I was so devastated to know that the auto immune problem was real, and I was angry.  Why do I have to feel so thyroid sick and exhausted all the time?  It makes simple daily tasks feel so difficult and it makes it so hard to lose weight, so hard to feel good about myself.  I feel so lonely in my situation sometimes

In that moment where I felt overwhelmed, I literally thought my heart would break.  I was going to die in that moment, right there sobbing and shaking on the floor from a broken heart.  Not just about babies, but about my life.  I want to feel healthy.  I don't want to dread going to church or going out in public.  I want to feel more stable, I want to have peace.  I can make millions of to do lists and goals but how can I reach them when I feel so alone and devastated.

I do believe things will get better.  I plan on writing about them as they do.  I need time to heal.  Time to get healthy and get my health problems under better control.  Time to process 6 losses within less than 3 years.  Time to be at peace and understanding with my situation and find acceptance.  Time to develop faith.  I feel like I have gone backwards sometimes when I dread going to church and avoid praying in general.  My heart just feels too broken to open it up to pray and believe- it's easier to feel hardened and angry.  But deep down I know that doesn't do any good.  That's not what I want in the end.

Perhaps I needed to hit rock bottom before I was ready to rebuild.  Well now I know this is where we have to start.  This year can still be a year of progression and wonderful memories.  Maybe I will be less "thyroid sick" and find better treatment.  Stay on folate therapy and feel like a person again.   I can lose weight, and find meaning in my career that has shifted drastically toward healthcare.  I can continue to develop my musicianship wherever it is allowed for in my life.  We can find doctors to help Kevin with his health.  I can be a daughter, sister, wife, mother, aunt, and every other title that means so much to me within my family.  I can build my relationship with God and learn to trust Him so much more than I do now.  My heart is broken and hopefully ready to be taught.  I try not to be just pessimistic.  It's hard coming out of another loss and feeling sick, but I want to be happy and live life a piece at a time. 

After all of these breakdowns I started coming to the realization that I might need to get some real help. 

My mom called me to try and convince me to get some extra help.  She pointed out all the things about me my whole life from the OCD tendencies (there are a couple real ones) and my driven attitude to fix things, the constant feeing of fight or flight, intensity and breakdowns, lack of energy, slow metabolism.  She told me she didn't want me to live with this high level of anxiety anymore, or depression, or feeling of general “crumminess.”  In my gene pool there are many people with other associated problems: GI problems, trouble sleeping, MTHFR, neurological problems, turrets, etc.  There is a lot of anxiety in the young children in the 3rd generation.  I wasn’t interested at all in medication, but I trust my mother because I know she has my best interests in mind.  

The health food side of me was somewhat afraid of anti-depressant medication because I do believe that many problems can be managed with a healthy lifestyle and without drugs.  I don't think all of my type A personality traits boil down to anxiety, but I know some of them probably do.  But I decided she was right and there was a line to be drawn.  I shouldn’t dread waking up in the morning and spend my time writing list after list.  My mom brought up my high school days where I would write in my journal 3-4 hours a day- two lines of print per line on the paper.  She said I can't even see past it, but I don't need to be living with that level of anxiety.  She wants me to be able to be happier despite any deficiencies (serotonin or otherwise) and not miss out on this time in my life.  I should be able to breathe easier.  I shouldn't get down on myself so often that I always feel inadequate.  If I did take something to try and help balance- I wouldn't take it during the next pregnancy, so I hope I wouldn't be dependent.  I wouldn't take it breastfeeding either, if I could get that far.  But breastfeeding gives such a great oxytocin boost anyway right?  I felt great when I breastfed.  This was a prayerful decision.  I was very afraid of side effects and dependency.

I shouldn't want to stay in bed all the time.  Or have anxiety about needing to go to the grocery store the next day,  Or be in the vicious cycle of stress to get up, anxiety even about getting dressed, about going to work, about trying to sleep, about trying to get up, etc etc.  Activities of daily living shouldn't be stressful.  Ask my husband, I do even get anxiety about trying to figure out what to eat sometimes.  I'll cry over it, even though I know how ridiculous that is.  My other health problems don’t help the situation.  The more I read about it the more I realized this may be a reality for me.  I read that in depression, the limbic system sends an emotional signal that is inappropriate, so like:

Sad signal when there’s nothing to be sad about

Signal to stay awake when we’re tired

Guilty signal when we’ve done nothing wrong

Feel really guilty over something very small

Fear signal when there’s nothing to be afraid of.

This can distort reality as most people will try to attach these emotions to what is going on in their life which gives false perceptions about reality.

I’ve felt like a hypochondriac for a long time, but I think all of this may actually be related.  Hypothyroidism and chronic pain (like my back) are also known causes and contributers.  My sleep, appetite, energy have all been bad lately.

I decided I want to laugh more at home and be happy for my son.  I feel like I'm usually not pleasant around him unless I fake it.  Fortunately I don't struggle with thoughts of hurting myself.  That's only happened once or twice in my life during bad panic attacks. I think the hardest part is admitting "I might have a problem."  I just didn’t want to be dependent on medication by my mid 20s for chronic problems. 

I'm learning that it's ok to be treated with medicine.  For my thyroid, for my chronic back pain, for a folate disorder, for GI problems, for fertility, maybe even for anxiety and depression.  It's still taking care of myself and trying to be responsible for my health.  I need to be more regulated.

I finally had the thought, “I want to be able to take Jack outside and not be exhausted to the point of tears just thinking about it.”  That’s when I decided to go to the doctor.

The doctor started me on a low dose of Zoloft.  It was a rough appointment to get through (especially because I work with the doctor) but I wanted to at least try it.  The first few weeks I didn’t feel any different really.  I thought it must all be placebo for people.  But now that it’s been a bit longer, I am really starting to feel, better.  I have much more stable moods, I get better sleep.  I am able to handle lots of things going on without having total meltdowns.  My chronic back pain has decreased immensely (even though I don’t really understand how).  I have enough energy and confidence that I’ve been able to work on eating healthier and being more active. I’ve worked hard at it the past two weeks and I’ve lost five pounds!  I feel like everything is stabilizing a bit more.  It is a wonderful feeling.  Now I don’t mind being on some medicine because I have more better days.  I still have hard days too, everyone does, but I’m having MORE better days.  I’ve been able to take Jack out for more activities, and we’re having more fun together.  I really only share this because I know I have some readers out there with similar problems, and even though I’m early in this journey, I’ve learned that it’s ok to get help!  It’s ok to be happy!

I took 20 days straight without a day off to do training and to get my CNA.  I’m just waiting to do my state boards at this point.  I’m happy to put my energy towards something useful and it is a good distraction.  I loved learning how to be of more help to our patients in the hospital.  I've learned a lot through my CNA class.  I don't like the reputation it seems to have of being a low class or "gross" job. It is hard work, and not glamorous, but I really feel like it is a sacred calling. To care for a human being at their most vulnerable, or most miserable, or at the end of their life is something that should be respected. The job should be carried out with kindness and compassion. It is so sad to witness any abuse, neglect, or anger toward those in need. Treat people like people and be thankful that your occupation can include so much service to others every day.

Mother’s day is coming up, so I’m bracing myself for that.  It’s a bit of a hard day.  I pretty much don’t go to church on mother’s day, just on principle.  Haha, ok it’s not really on principle, but the past two years church on mother’s day has either caused me to have a panic attack right before or right after church, or I found myself trying to choke down one right in the middle of a meeting.  It’s one day a year that I just give myself to stay home and ponder everything I need to.  I feel like it’s ok to stay home during the meetings and pray and take the time I need to mourn.  Take time to be thankful for Jack the way I should be.  And to be thankful for my own mother. 

A happy mother’s day to all of you out there- whether your babies are here with you or not, “A mother is a mother still, the holiest thing alive.” <3

Picture with my sweet nephew Holden.  I long to be a mommy again, but being an auntie is pretty great!  Thankful for these little ones in my family.