Don't Panic

There are sudden moments where my mood can change from happy, or doing just fine, to the total opposite and I’m, very suddenly, not even close to “ok.”  Any little trigger and it just boils over.  I hadn’t been to church in three weeks because of the loss, because of work, etc.  It’s very rare for me to go that long without going to church.  I usually go every week.  For some reason this loss (much more than the others) has somehow left me more anti-social.  I’m fine talking to people online, I’m fine with people at work whom I’m just starting to get to know.  But I find myself wanting to avoid being around those I’m close to except for my husband.  I don’t exactly know why.  For some reason, this time my best healing has come through keeping myself busy and keeping to myself.  In the past I have clung to the company of close friends and family.  I’m much happier alone this time.  I worked full time this week, ran some errands, and celebrated my anniversary with my husband.  All of those things were great. 

As Sunday crept closer I started feeling this dread come over me.  I craved to go and worship and feel the Spirit.  I wanted to sing and be uplifted.  But at the same time the idea of going somewhere where everything is so positive and people are so faithful repulsed me, because it’s such a stark contrast from how I’m feeling half the time.  I didn’t want to hear about faith and trust because I already know I need to do better and for some reason it feels like that message drags me down unless I’m in the right mindset to receive it.  The other thing that worried me was seeing my friends.  I just felt like it would be awkward and I felt like I would have a breakdown at church, and that was the last thing I wanted.  I’ve been trying to deal with the sadness I’ve been feeling, but I’m still struggling with it.

In my mind’s eye, I saw this scenario where a friend who hadn’t seen me since the loss says a simple “Hi Amber! It’s good to see you, how are you doing?”  How do I answer that?  I either have to lie through my teeth with a smile and say “great!”  Or I have to say “You know, I’m hanging in there and I’m ok.”  I feel like that response would lead to either more questions, or instant sobs from me.  I don’t know why church is so much harder to go to than other places.  Maybe it’s because I normally can feel so happy there- or because my friends are genuine.  I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

  I stayed in bed with a headache until 15 minutes before church started at 9.  I was debating up to the very last minute.  But I knew I at least needed to try to go.  You have to start somewhere.  You have to start getting back to normal.  I was extra tired because I’d worked the last three nights and knew I still had Sunday and Monday night shifts.  Getting home a little after midnight isn’t the bad part, I just haven’t been sleeping well.  I can’t ever turn my brain off after work and when I do finally fall asleep I have vivid dreams.  I wake up with headaches and feeling restless.  I’ve been struggling with heartburn too, which I don’t usually.  I wonder if that can be a result from stress or restlessness. 

But I did get out of bed 15 minutes before church, threw on a dress and boots and went.  We were a little late, so I sat out in the foyer, but when we normally would have gone to find seats during a break, I just continued to sit outside the main congregation.  It felt better to sit with just my family and hear the messages.  That way I didn’t have to see anyone or give anyone a smile.  My heart tried to be positive because there were wonderful messages of faith and happiness.  It was testimony meeting.  I just couldn’t break through the fog that felt like it was surrounding me.  Someone would talk about their new baby and that shut me down.  Someone would talk about having the faith not to be healed or have things turn out how you want and that shut me down.  I tried to focus on the Savior. I tried to tell myself that it was enough today for giving it the effort to go.  Baby steps. 

When the first meeting was over, I hurried to the classroom where I teach, to avoid seeing anyone in the halls that I would normally talk to.  I sat in the classroom and thought “This won’t be so bad.  Kevin is teaching with me, we only have to teach the kids and play with them for a couple hours, no big.  I looked at the clock and thought “The kid's other teachers or their parents will bring them in here soon.  A couple hellos are all you have to get through.”  

And suddenly, just like that, my chest felt tight.  Literally like it was seizing up.  I felt like the walls were closing in.  My emotions suddenly felt overflowing and I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight.  I told myself to calm down and tried to even out my breathing but it just sounded like hyperventilating.  The tight feeling in my chest added to the chaos of the moment, I was cold and shivering.  I looked at Kevin and said “I feel like I might be having a panic attack.” 

All I could think was “I have to get out of here before I see anyone.”  I felt like the kids would be there any second and then it would be too late.  I stumbled into the next empty room connected to our classroom, and tried to give myself a minute to calm down before I saw anyone, but the plan backfired.  I started trying to cover up the sobs coming from deep within my chest and water was pouring from my eyes.  Now there was no way I could hide it, you would be able to see it all over me that I was crying.  That I was a mess.  That just leads to more concern or questions.  I would be so embarrassed if someone saw how upset I was because I couldn't escape the situation.

I sat on the floor, giving myself one more chance to calm down.  I could hear was voices right outside the door.  Two women laughing.  One saying “Yes, my third is due anytime, my first came early etc etc.”  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Nothing wrong, nothing offensive.  But it’s just a trigger.  I knew I was done for.  It was a hard moment because a statement I said the night before was really starting to ring true.  I had admitted to Kevin about 1am, “I feel like I might need some help, but I’m not quite sure where to find it.”

 I knew I wouldn’t make it through the class at this point.  I looked desperately to my husband (as embarrassed as I was) and said “I have to get out of here.  I feel trapped.  I can’t even get to the car without people seeing me.”  Just admitting I felt trapped made my chest feel tight again.  I wanted to run.  I knew I had to hurry before the hallways filled up.  Even though I knew he wouldn’t really, I felt ashamed thinking my husband would hate me for this.  Why am I such a basket case?  Kevin acted quickly, and took me by the arm, and opened the door.  I was frantically wiping my face and digging in my purse to avoid any eye contact.  He checked the hallway and walked swiftly next to me until I came to a door leading outside.  He handed me the keys and I just ran.  

I talked myself through driving home, telling myself I needed to focus on driving and hold off on a meltdown until I was somewhere safe.  I have no idea why, but after I got home my right arm started to ache like someone had punched me in the shoulder a dozen times.  The aching started in the shoulder and went all the way through to my fingers.  I think this really may have been a physical response to what I was feeling.  I’m glad Kevin was there to cover for me, even though I was disgusted in myself for having a breakdown for no real reason.  I hope this is the last major event that I get through before I can start seeing some normalcy in myself again.  Perhaps it was just too soon.  But I tried.  I really tried.      

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When I say I don’t know where to get help, that’s not exactly true.  I have a loving family, great friends, and resources available to me.  My job offers free counseling that I can take advantage of at any time.  I have doctors and nurses I could see.  I think my problem is not knowing what kind of help I need.  Mostly I think I will just need some more time.  I’ve done counseling in the past for other things, and it helped, but maybe I’m just not ready to make the time commitment or the emotional commitment to try it again.  I have my blog as an outlet and a place for me to vent so I have that going for me.  I know that counselors can teach you coping mechanisms so if this continues I may look into that. 

I have doctors available to me.  I don’t want to start an anti-depressant.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them and I know they are a big help to those who need to take them.  I’m just not sure I really need one.  I’ve gotten through grief many times before without one, and I’m worried I would become numb or dependent on a drug.  The other issue is that sometimes people with MTHFR have trouble finding an antidepressant that works without the help of taking activated folate.  That folate that my body can’t process is responsible for nourishing neurotransmitters, etc.  Basically, I can feel depressed just from the lack of folate.  So maybe that's all I need, not an added drug.  I stopped taking my folate after I lost the baby because it’s very upsetting to take it still.  It’s associated with all that other stuff.  But I know I need to keep taking it for my own health. 

There is a new prescription out called Deplin.  It’s an active folate, studied for people specifically with MTHFR (so says one who works for the company).  It’s marketed as an antidepressant and is supposed to cross the blood brain barrier.  It’s also marketed to help prevent neural tube defects in pregnancy.  It’s been clinically studied, proven, all that jazz.  I’m trying to figure out if the dosing or compound is somehow far superior to over the counter active vitamins like I’ve been taking.  It’s over $400 for 90 pills of Deplin (the over the counter vitamins are like $20).  So I’m very curious what would set it apart.  I wonder if it would help me feel better, I wonder if it would work in my brain more or better.  I wouldn’t ever want to spend $400 on it, but if the insurance covered most of it, I wouldn’t be opposed to trying it, because it seems to be a clinical strength vitamin.  If is somehow worked better or stronger there is the potential there that it would help with any future pregnancy.  The trouble is I don’t know who to talk to about it.  I might email the fertility clinic and ask, because none of my regular doctors or OBs in the past really even know what MTHFR is, let alone that I’m missing an enzyme to process folate because of it, let alone a new drug that is supposed to help.  I usually pay for these doctor appointments just to be met with blank stares as I explain what it is.  They just don’t know about it. 

A nurse at work, also works for a company who studies these types of things, and really felt like this prescription is something I should look into if I can find a doctor who will work with me.  He was very professional about everything when he heard me talking to the pharmacist about active folate.  I explained my diagnosis and he was very interested.  I wondered if a strength like this would help my babies more.  I told him we’d lost our last five and wondered if this was a key part in it.  His response?  “That’s awesome, it’s like you don’t even have to use birth control.”  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  Of all the heartless things that have ever been said to me, that was the worst.  I wouldn’t even have told him, but it seemed to be a professional medical conversation up to that point.  I couldn’t believe he said that, in essence, “well even if you get pregnant, your baby likely won’t be born, so why worry about birth control, you won’t have another mouth to feed anyway.”  Regardless of that comment, I still want to look into Deplin.  If it would really help me stay happy more often, or feel less imbalanced.  In the meantime I know I should start on my vitamins again. 

              

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In the meantime I am still pondering on our loss.  Not just the loss of “a” baby, but the actual life that didn’t make it.  I think about all of them.  I imagine they all would have looked a little bit like Jack, but I try to push that thought out because it hurts too much. Along with the image of him being a big brother. He does ask me sometimes why there is no baby in my tummy. I wish I knew why.

I love looking at Jack. It's so incredible to see a little person who is literally half me, half my husband. A physical embodiment of our relationship and love, blessed by God. Do we ever stop to ponder on the fact that we have the ability to create a whole new human being and give life where there was none? A person, that will (God willing) outlive both his parents and still be there standing, a testament to their love and commitment to each other forever. All the love they felt for each other before couldn't imagine the love they would find for their child, that through God’s blessings, can be theirs forever.  I have had that blessing come to me, so even in my pain, I know I’m one of the lucky ones.  I saw this little reminder and bought it for myself- it makes me happy when I look at it:

Three is a hard age, but this little guy lights up my life.

In All Honesty...

I really debated about posting these thoughts.  The biggest reason being that: I don’t feel like this all the time.  But when it hits, it hits hard, and it’s real.  I've always wanted my blog to be a message of hope, healing, and faith overall. But sometimes you have to write about the real raw stuff that makes any healing meaningful in the first place. So I apologize if this post is a downer. It's not easy to share, but I do want my message to be one of honesty. And writing is my outlet.

I hate that I can get so sad because, all in all, my life is wonderful.  Really.  I truly recognize that I have so many blessings. But for some reason I can't make that resonate when the sadness hits. It just hurts. No matter how many “worse things” there are in the world I just feel horrible. I start to have some self-hate. That helps absolutely nothing.

I hope time will bring some peace and self-love. I don't know what I'm looking for exactly. Sympathy can be a wonderful thing that reminds you that you are loved, but it doesn't change anything. The world keeps on moving and you're just trapped in your own emotions that feel pointless and damaging. Even though your brain knows it, you can’t just set it aside.

Depression is a hard thing to write about. I think what it really does- is make me over sensitive. I start to feel like an idiot all the time, like I'm always doing or saying the wrong thing. I question my worth. I even question the whole point of my blog, thinking maybe I've made myself into one big stigma of sorts, and have started to see my circumstances as my identity.

I crave for a vice, for anything to distract and dull my mind a little bit, because in between the moments of joy or contentment, I swan dive into sadness (which makes me feel worse about myself for not staying happy).  I start to feel like everyone is laughing at me behind my back and I just want life to pause for a while. If I am able to step back from the situation long enough, I begin to think all of this is just me not being able to process pain. Maybe mixed with some baby blues, without the baby. Just the postpartum hormones. Even though my pregnancy was short, the body changes are real. And my heart is so bipolar trying to focus on my blessings and the good things each day, and then in one moment completely crashing and burning.

I can cry at things that people say to me.  Like, normal, regular, everyday things with no relation to what I'm dealing with, and with no harm intended. Then I get frustrated with myself for doing that. When my pain killers were empty I was just wishing I could take one more to take the edge off.  I knew that was scary.  I know that's a bad sign. I had to admit to myself that I could be dealing with some depression.  I didn’t take any more pills.  Somehow I fought it off because that is one more thing I don’t need to deal with.  I'm not quite sure how I can best get through this in a healthy way, yet.  But I will get there.

My spirituality goes up and down but I'm trying to hang in there.  I’m so relieved to have a supportive husband who is a good listener and doesn't judge me even in my crazy.  I try to find a few reasons each day to get out of bed and really smile, even though I feel broken at the moment. I know I'll need some time. Even though I don't want to forget.  To be happy after a loss always makes me feel guilty.  But I don't want to hurt like this my whole life.

I want to be in charge. I want to make good use of my time and my life. Fill it with wonderful and meaningful things- no matter how many or few children I have. It is easier said than done, but I'm fighting to do it. And that's the honest truth, so I'm going to try not to beat myself up after posting this. I’m going to keep healing.  I’m not going to define myself by anything that life throws at me.

Still A Mother- The Story of Our 6th Pregnancy

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you’re afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died — you’re not reminding them. They didn’t forget they died. What you’re reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift."

~ Elizabeth Edwards

I really can't explain the horror of finding out that our 6th pregnancy had just become our 5th consecutive loss.  How could this possibly be happening again, when everything seemed to be going so well?  How could this happen so many times in a row, with the doctors still not understanding what was going wrong?  How can this possibly be what fate had in store for my life, could this really happen to me again?  Will any of our babies ever be born alive again?  I know there are far worse things, but that doesn't stop me from feeling utterly overwhelmed and consumed in grief.  

Often when I take Jack to some activity for children, he's surrounded by other kids close to his age.  Most of whom have one or two little brothers or sisters.  I always get the same question "Just the one?"  "just?!" my mind screams, "This child is the greatest miracle my soul has ever experienced (not that I had the slightest clue at the time).  He is my life and my joy.  He is bursting with a sweet personality and brings joy to his whole family, not to mention he is extremely intelligent.  Not only was he somehow born without handicap or deformity (which we now realize is probably a high possibility for us), but he was born healthy and extremely bright.  He wasn't born tiny, sickly, or early (another possibility) but somehow was a whopping 9 pounds 4 oz, screaming, starving, happy boy.  There is no part of him that is a 'just.'"  I smile and say "Yes, he is my one and only."  

But he's not, not really.  I have been pregnant six times.  Five other lives were conceived and started to grow within me.  So when people say "just the one" my mind can't help but think of those who I never met.  I wonder what they would have looked like.  If they were boys or girls.  How it all works out and where my babies are now.  It's ok, I decide, because I am still a mother.  I am still a mother to all the life I have ever carried inside.  I was the best mother I could possibly be to each of those precious beginnings that ended too soon.  And that counts.  I'm still a mother, to more than "just" my one.   

Last month started out chaotic to say the least.  I suddenly found myself looking for a new job as I realized that my current one was just not going to cut it for us right now.  Kevin being in school and I being the breadwinner and all…  It was a little stressful but I was sure the right thing would come up.  I interviewed at a Music Conservatory but it turns out it would have been a paycut since it was an administrative position...that still wanted a bachelor's in music. (what?!)  I started the process of starting up some music lessons on the side, if I find students interested.  Since we have so much else going on I’m not really promoting it right now, but I’m ok with that.  I’ll see if I can work it in, because I would like to keep music in my life.  We just have a lot of other priorities right now.  Jack started preschool  a few months ago, which has been awesome.  It’s not too long or too often so I’m doing ok with it.  I like to see him learn and grow, and it’s good for me to have the option of taking him there for childcare if the need arises suddenly as well. 

Kevin and I had been talking more and more about the possibility of trying for another baby again.  Everything seemed to have led us to some answers that could actually bring great results. I think most of my fear was that I was SO hopeful, that I was extra terrified of my dreams being crushed.  My heart just can’t take so many losses in a row.  But Kevin put it in perspective once again that if we don’t try, it's the one way to guarantee we won't have another child.  We can only end up in the same situation or a better one.  That put my heart at ease a little more with the idea of possibly being pregnant.

I was taking all my vitamins, hormones, aspirin, etc.  I felt good about everything, when I started having kidney pain!  It was the worst!  I was feeling totally overwhelmed by it- because I was almost sure it was from taking too many water soluble vitamins and putting too much strain on my filtering organs.  I was concerned with the idea of cutting some vitamins when I already knew there was a chance I could be expecting.  But I felt a peace come over me and I knew that if it was too hard on my kidneys, I certainly was getting the nutrition I needed and the rest was in excess.  So I carefully went through my list and cut a few doses here and there that made sense to me.  Thankfully, I haven’t had any kidney pain since!  I’m so thankful for that peace that comes from the Spirit, because, before that happens, everything is terrifying.

Then came that two week wait.  I would have little pregnancy symptoms here and there, but knowing it was too early to test, you just have to wait.  That is one of the hardest stages for me.  I worry, and I dream, and I hope, and I sometimes feel devastated again before anything has even happened.  Let’s be honest, it’s so scary after what I’ve been through.  Sometimes I feel like I’m not brave enough to deal with it.  I find myself praying almost constantly.  I imagine what I would say to the baby in my thoughts.  “Please be a fighter, hang in there.  I’m so thankful and thrilled for all the time we will spend together, no matter how long that might be, I will treasure it.”

I would have good days and bad days.  One night I was doing some late grocery shopping after work at Target, and I just happened to pass by their cute section full of “all things baby” and it just put a knife in my heart!  I almost started crying right there in the aisle!  “Will I ever buy these things for you baby?”  I tried to replace that fear with hope and tried to imagine the possibility.

I started practicing a lot with positive imagery.  I remembered my pregnancy with Jack.  I would look at pictures.  It was real.  It can and will happen again.  I tried to tell myself these things to give my body strength. "Although I may have been deficient in vitamins before, I am not now.  I may have been deficient in hormones before, but I am not now.  Everything will be fine with the next baby.  I have everything I need to give it."

Sometimes I like to pretend I am in control I guess.  I like to imagine that if I do everything exactly right I can control the outcome of a pregnancy.  But this false idea gives me extremely high anxiety when I wonder if I'm taking the exact right dose of all the right things at the exact right times.  And if something isn't exactly perfect I will lose the baby and it will be my fault.

What I need to remember is that God is all knowing and all powerful and He is on my side.  He absolutely has the power to make miracles happen.  High anxiety won't change anything in the end.  God giveth and God taketh away.  I would think "I need to focus more on having faith and trust in Him that He has led us to all these things for a reason and will make them work for us in His time.  I suppose I'm just afraid of when that time is.  And that it's not now.  How much more can my soul take?"

My new mantra was along the lines of reminding myself over and over "God loves me. God loves me.  The creator of all the universe knows my name, my situation, my faith and my worry, and He loves me today and right now."  It helped me cope with the stress.  It is a very stressful situation when you have lost your past 4 pregnancies in a row to somehow believe that you might see a heartbeat next time, and witness a miracle. I wrote "It takes everything I have not to crumple into a ball of worry and sadness.  This trial is teaching me mental self-control.  I know anxiety and despair are not healthy for my body, so I am learning to quiet those thoughts and focus on love.  I focus on faith.  The fear won't leave completely, but I assume that would be unnatural.  I'm waiting to be a witness of God's work that He can do through me."  

As I was pondering on all of these things I had some thoughts.  I sometimes feel that my mental attitude believes that it is my "default" to miscarry and that Jack was my exception.  He is no doubt a miracle, but I had a thought, what I believe was a prompting, telling me that in reality, by default, my body is designed to nourish and bring healthy children into the world.  It is only when something goes wrong that I miscarry.  It is not be default.  It is NOT a curse.  Even though it felt like it after four in a row.  Something was wrong all of those times.  Something was missing.  We hoped that the missing pieces were nourishment from vitamins and hormones that I was supplementing with.  If that were the case, then by default, I should have been able to have another live birth.  I was trying to absorb that same attitude and have the same kind of "blind faith" that I did during my pregnancy with Jack.  Since it was my first, it really never crossed my mind that the baby might not survive.  I completely expected him to be born healthy with no problems.  And that is what happened.  I want to have that kind of faith and trust again knowing that, by default, my body was made to do this. 

When it was almost at the end of that two week wait, I got a call and found out that I had been offered the job we were hoping I would get!  I was so excited.  I would soon start as the Health Unit Coordinator for Medical and Oncology Nursing at the hospital.  After that call I started feeling really overwhelmed.  This job requires me to work longer and later hours, more often.  I wasn’t really sure if I wanted that pregnancy test to be positive anymore.  Maybe it would be better to wait a few more months until my new job settles in.  About 2 hours after I accepted the job, I get a call about my blood work from the fertility clinic….PREGNANT!

Half of me was so excited for so much good news in one day, part of me was like…holy…crap…this is going to be crazy….

 The hCG was 2.2 on Monday which would be considered 3 weeks 4 days.  That’s technically a negative result because it is SO low (less than 5).  So it didn’t quite sit well because I wasn’t really sure what was going on.  We may have basically caught the baby literally STARTING to grow in the blood work.  It's so early that they told me not to worry and we'll just make sure the numbers are going up steadily.  My progesterone was great!  Which made me feel lots better.  However small the number is, hCG is produced by the placenta, which meant there had to be one in there!  When that sunk in, I just knelt there on my bathroom floor and cried and cried and prayed and prayed.  I just poured my heart out to God.  Please bless and watch over this little life. 

My mom was so happy she cried when I told her.  I took that as a good sign.  My mom is awesome.  She reminded me that my job right now is to be a mommy.  It's not to be a nutritionist, or a scientist, or a doctor.  It's just to hope with all my heart and expect to deliver a happy healthy baby.  And we know that things have the possibility of changing for the worst, but she said up until that very moment I don't even need to think about it. 

I found out my due date according to my last cycle would be June 11^th, a day after my sister’s birthday.  Pretty cool!  I practiced saying things like “the baby IS due June 11^th,” not “if everything goes well then the baby will be due in June.”  I needed to let the message sink into my body that I am keeping this baby!

After the shock and excitement wore off, the fear started to sink in again.  I was supposed to track hCG growth at home using home pregnancy tests, and I wasn’t getting positive results.  I hadn’t missed my period yet, so I knew there was a chance that everything would still be ok.  It’s just that in my last 4 pregnancies, I ALWAYS have had a positive four days away from my period.  I tried to remind myself that you can rush science, and just because this pregnancy was different didn’t mean that anything was wrong with it.  It just wasn’t a normal pattern for me, and it was scary.  I wished science would hurry it up a little and give me some peace of mind. 

I was saying a lot of “help thou my unbelief” prayers, because as much faith as I was trying to have, it was so scary and I know I had a lot of doubt in there.  Kevin gave me a beautiful blessing around that time that really brought peace to my soul.  I asked for a blessing of healing.  God blessed my body to be healthy and strong and for the systems to be strengthened and able to support life.  The blessing said I’ve done everything to help to the best of my knowledge, and Heavenly Father can do the rest.  It told me to have faith and confidence- that I would have the Spirit with me to help and comfort me.  That the Lord desires us to have more children.  I also felt overwhelming gratitude for all those who are praying for me.  I’m so grateful for their faith.  Like, after that blessing, even when I would get a negative test I would feel like “It’s still going to be ok, everything is still ok with the pregnancy.” All I could do was hope that those blessings weren't for "future realization."

I was so ready to share in the joy that others had expressed as we shared the news with some of those close to us.  Then, the day before my period was due, I still got a negative test.  I was sure that the baby had stopped growing before it really started.  I had one of those moments where suddenly it’s like I was Peter sinking in the water as my concept of reality seemed to take over my faith.  I crumpled into a ball of sobbing doubt and despair.  How could everything possibly be ok?  I was begging God not to take the baby from me because of my lack of faith.  I told Him I was doing the best I could.  I was just on edge from so many bad experiences from the past.  It felt extra hard because I had been so hopeful in thinking this baby was going to grow healthy and strong and I just expected good signs.  Signs of history repeating itself is devastating.  I started praying for some tender mercies, little signs to let me know everything was ok.

That night, on the way home from work, I almost threw up in my car.  Then I jumped out of the car and almost lost it on the grass.  I had never been so happy!  The very next morning, TWO POSITIVE tests!  God answers prayers.  One was a regular test and one was digital.  I was so comforted.  That meant that growth had been good from Monday to Thursday. 

 On Friday, I called to get a refill of my progesterone and the nurse said I needed to come in for a beta test that very day.  Beta days are hard for me.  I get so nervous about them.  I never had betas with Jack, so I’ve never actually seen them go up normally and haven’t ever ended up with good news from them.  My last baby in December 2013 started at a 2, four days later was an 89, then it almost doubled, then only grew 12% until it stopped and went down.  Since my reading on Monday had been 2.2 and it was Friday, I was hoping for at least over 50.  I was happy to find out it was 85.5!  My nurse said she was cautiously optimistic and so far everything looked good.  My progesterone looked great.  They wanted another beta done in three days.  We just needed to have the baby continue growing at the same rate.  I was praying specifically to see results over 200 soon, because we hadn't ever made it past that number.  My mom always taught me to pray for specific things- for exactly what I needed.  So I was praying for 200 and after that, planned to pray for a good ultrasound, and then a heartbeat.  The Lord had blessed us so much so far in this early pregnancy.  I truly had hope that the good news would continue. I wanted to believe in so much more than "we will be ok."  We've been through enough losses to know we'll be "ok and get through it."  I wanted to believe the baby was going to survive and be born.   

They told me if the next beta was good, they would schedule an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy is where it needs to be, doing what it needs to be doing!

The cravings kicked in really quickly this time for some reason.  All I wanted was the Café Rio house dressing.  Delicious with just enough spicy.  I stood in a line of practically 500 people, for an hour, for some tacos with that dressing, and then ended up also buying a whole bottle of the dressing on its own.  Funny enough, there were probably half a dozen clearly pregnant women in that line with me.  It kind of made me sad though, seeing that, because I sometimes I felt like my pregnancy wasn't "as real" as theirs, because we don’t know if mine will survive.

 

But if life was easy, it wouldn’t be hard.  “Giving” your baby to the Lord is never easy, but you also come to understand that the child is His, and He knows best.  I’ve found comfort in knowing my family is sealed together, and my children are safe and cared for whether they are here with me or not.  I always find myself thinking of the lyrics to “Consider the Lillies” 

 I was amazed how much love had surrounded this little life already.  So much love and concern from so many people.  We felt the prayers.  It was such a blessing, to have so many people praying for us and the baby.  Well over 100 people sent their support and well wishes either on facebook or through texts or emails.  I got emotional even thinking about that kind of love and support surrounding us.  People fervently, sincerely praying with all of their hearts and faith- that’s a lot of blessings to help us get through anything, regardless of what is in store.

I had the thought, “Don’t be afraid that your faith will make you look like a fool if things don’t turn out how you want.  Holding back isn’t having faith.  Faith is believing despite not understanding how it could work out.”  I just kept thinking "This is my 6^th pregnancy.  I’m just so ready to meet one of my babies again.  I’m so ready to be a mom again."

Monday brought the next beta.  My arm was so sore and bruised because they have continued to use the same vein in the exact same spot multiple times in a row.  It was one of the worst blood draws I’d had in a long time.  Not to mention an agonizing five hours waiting for the results of the test.  My hCG went from 85.5 to 162.8 in almost 72 hours.  Not quite doubled and not as quickly as we had hoped.  It certainly wasn’t "over" yet, but disappointment had me weighed down.  I realized it really depended on the next beta at that point.  Up to this point, the pregnancy had been almost identical in what happened in my last one before we saw a 12% growth and a loss.  

I started to wonder why I even tried if the exact same thing was going to happen. I realized my prayer to see a beta over 200 could still be valid.  Last time the highest number we saw was in the 160s, so perhaps it was just a little early to hope for over 200.  But still, I really wanted to see at least doubling in three days to know that everything was ok and to feel reassured.  The results really turned me into a child, crying on the floor, praying in the most simple phrases.  “Please save my baby please.  I can’t do this anymore.  Not again.  I can’t.  Please have mercy.”  

My nurse called and said she was happy with the results and even though it was technically 8 points away from doubling, there’s like a 10 point variable depending on the time of day, water intake, the machine, etc.  So it had doubled and was good so far.  She said at this point, they normally wouldn’t even repeat the beta because it was well established.  But they were still worried with my history, so they planned to do one more beta to make sure everything was growing properly.  They said they’d do it in three days.  It was going to be a huge beta for us.  Like I said, the last beta at 5 weeks had only gone up 12%.  I pretty much had a breakdown that entire day.  I was thankful to see the numbers in normal range and tried to tell myself I had no reason to expect the growth to stop.

That day marked one week since we found out we were pregnant and already I had never been more  physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted.  Just basic household things in addition to being in the middle of switching jobs felt overwhelming.  I kept going saying "If he or she stays healthy, I’ll be able to get through anything else."

  

On Tuesday I was over the meltdown and started focusing on that magic number 324 for Thursday.  I told myself, “You’re two days away from five weeks and growth hasn’t started to slow yet, so you’re already doing better than last time.”  Last time by that point I had already started having pain and horrible cramping.  Almost there.  In the meantime, the Café Rio dressing craving continued and I got to the point where I was eating it on everything.  Even sandwiches and Olive Garden breadsticks.  Haha.  Had to find something to laugh at. 

Although I had heard this hymn (How Firm a Foundation) thousands of times, the words spoke so clearly to my soul at this time when I needed comfort so desperately. 

I've written before that some of these troubles I'm experiencing seem to run in my family.  Mostly in my aunts.  One had three children that were all born small by c-section after they stopped gaining weight (they are all ok).  One miscarried twins after her first child was healthy.  One has suffered several miscarriages and two full-term stillbirths.  She has two live children.  As I was learning more about the disorder that affects my life, and realizing there really isn't enough known about how it effects pregnancy, I called one of these family members.  After spending a long time on the phone explaining everything, this relative decided she better go and get tested for MTHFR.  About a week later, she found out that she was positive, for both forms.  I couldn't believe it.  It's not exactly good news, but it felt like it.  She had been struggling and wondering for years why she had experienced the loss of so many children with no explanation. She seemed so happy and relieved to have some answers although she is passed the age where she would try again.  Other family members are in the process of learning about this genetic mutation and getting tested for it.  

After seeing my aunt suffer for so many years and having my heart break for her, I felt so blessed to somehow bring her some peace.  It was such a sweet mercy for me to feel that love.  Suddenly, for the first time, I saw some of my suffering have a greater purpose.  My hope is that if we can learn more about this disorder, I can help younger members of my family avoid some of the heartache or health risks that I've faced.  I hope I can find ways to help them improve their lives.  Being a pioneer for my family in this sense is a blessing, even though I wouldn't have chosen it for myself.  My aunt is researching more about this, and even distributing some information to doctors in her area, hoping that they can help others who may have MTHFR.

As my beta drew closer I really started to focus on the belief that the vitamins could prevent any neural tube defects (if that was truly the problem at all).  I knew I felt better on activated vitamins and could only hope that could be passed on to the baby.

 I started to believe that I might actually hold this child. After that draw I tried to quiet my soul and say "I've done everything I can do, it's out of my hands now.  I just have to wait."

My number came back at 247.1 which is higher than we've ever seen before, but not large enough of a growth.  At first I thought it was a 50% growth because I didn't do the math. I wasn't exactly sure what it meant at that point, but I knew it wasn't good. I gave up in that moment.  I felt like God must hate me. Why do we even try?! 5 babies. 5. That's more than any one person can handle.  I wanted to give up on my whole life. I felt like such an idiot for thinking anything could change. And I hated my body I despised it. I couldn't bare to lose our child. Not again. I couldn't live through it again. I wondered what our numbers with Jack were, I wondered if he pushed through low numbers. I waited for the nurse to call and explain the results and sobbed and sobbed "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep watching my friends and sisters have healthy babies while I keep losing mine. I think it might kill me." In a moment of devastation, you say a lot of things.  "Why does it always have to be ifs and maybes why can't we ever just get good news. It's supposed to be minimum 60% growth in 2 days and this beta was 3 days apart."  

I started to feel more aching and dull pain in the uterus. I wasn't sure if it was because I was losing the baby or if the baby was growing. I was afraid to hold out hope for it to be crushed again. When I realized it was a 66% growth I had a little more hope but still so confused what was happening. I just couldn't give up on this baby yet.

The nurse called and said that in the past they have seen pregnancies with numbers like this that go on to be normal, but they were concerned because it's combined with my history. The progesterone being high was reassuring to them. The doctor wanted to see me for an ultrasound the next day to see if anything was visible and if we could establish some more information.

They weren't looking for a heartbeat. they wanted to establish what they could see because they weren't happy with the rate of growth. I just hoped baby could hang in there for a while longer, then it might be ok. I really do wonder if Jack had low numbers starting out.  I think I may have even had a period with him (my due date and his size never made sense). This baby just kept giving us scares, and then somehow the next day I was still pregnant. I was so thankful for everyone else's faith because they just kept being strong when I totally gave up. 

The outpouring of love when I explained what was happening on Facebook was overwhelming. What hurts the most is how casual the situation can become. Like it's "just another one" instead of a new life all it's own that is growing but struggling.  Sometimes people don't seem to realize it gets harder with every loss not easier, and the fear and anxiety increase with each pregnancy. I was 5 weeks 2 days. 

Even though growth was slow, this was as far as I had made it without signs of an impending loss. So I decided to keep believing. Kevin and I went to the temple and prayed a lot, trying to find some comfort.  I tried to remember that the growth curve was only behind by 30%.  Surely God could make up a difference of 30%.   I decided I was thankful because I would rather be in limbo and stay pregnant than know for sure that the baby was gone.  At least in that moment I knew I was still pregnant.  

We went in for the ultrasound the next day.  I was so happy to have an ultrasound while I was pregnant.  It made my pregnancy feel more real.  The dr did find a cyst on the outside of the uterus but said it was unrelated to our losses. My endometrium was thick and healthy which they said was a great sign. The dr thought he saw a small sac developing but said it was an irregular shape and could possibly be fluid. He said it was still early so it was still possible that everything can be fine.  He decided to repeat my beta on Sunday, and basically my numbers just needed to jump and skyrocket. He said he was cautiously optimistic. They wanted to see a sac clearer soon and rule out ectopic pregnancy.  I just had to hope for a miracle, it seemed the only possible solution.  

Waiting for the beta again passed slowly, but also went way too fast.  I almost didn't want to know.  After the blood draw, it was once again an agonizing three hours trying to stay calm.  They called and my heart felt like it was going to come right out of my chest as I answered the phone.  And then I heard those dreaded words "...your numbers actually went down, I'm so sorry...."  I lost the baby. We were devastated. We had so much more confidence that everything we were doing could result in a live birth.  Especially working with a fertility clinic. We knew we would have to grieve yet again, but I still felt thankful for great doctors who are dedicated to working with us through the next few years to try and understand what has changed since Jack was born. We clearly didn't have the right answer this time.  I felt overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, and worry because I had to start my new job at the hospital the very next day.  

My reaction really is to hate my body. But I'm trying to be nice to myself. Clearly there is just something else going on that we don't understand. And I am still a mother. Which is really what I've wanted to be my whole life.  I don't know if I can accurately describe that type of devastation and anxiety I felt when I thought of trying to go to work the next day.  I thought, "How is it possible I have an all day orientation tomorrow, a meeting with the administrative assistant, lunch with my manager. It's like I can't catch a break. How will I get through the pain, mentally or physically? How do I fake it? I can't take my good drugs and focus, and I can't reschedule. They'll keep me on drugs to keep me from bleeding right away, but there's still internal pain." I made it through with a faked smile and realized I had more strength than I thought.  

The idea of adoption has not yet resonated with me as being the right thing for our family, at least for now. But with a fifth loss I'm really becoming afraid that we won't ever have another child. Blessings have talked about sustaining life and having a nurturing environment. Saying that we'll have more children. I am trying to hold out faith that those blessings will be realized in the future because now they just feel like false hope.

It's really not easy to keep the faith in these moments. Then I received a message from someone else who experienced recurrent miscarriage for many years before receiving their miracle.  With her permission, I share part of what she wrote:

    

I am so thankful to be comforted by someone who knows, really knows, how it feels. I am blessed to feel that I know Gods desire is for us not to give up. I don't know how long it will take, but I don't feel like adoption is right for us now (even though that kind of makes me feel bad) and I don't think it's time to stop trying to understand what is happening, or give up hope for another child. 

My neighbor brought a picture that reminded me that God is not cold; that He is not trying to punish me, in fact, if Jesus were here now, he would be weeping with me. I heard her crying as she gave the picture to Kevin, and that touched my heart that she felt such sympathy.

I wish I could get swallowed up in my career, in working out, in anything. But really being a mother is all my heart has ever really loved or dreamed of. So I will try to find new things that are worth while and good for my time to distract me from the hurt of consistent loss. And I'll continue focusing on being a mother. Even if I didn't get to meet this new baby. Those with infertility try every month. How could we stop trying? Those symptoms that used to be reassuring became a cruel reminder as my blood still had the pregnancy hormones flowing through. 

 I do feel angry. I gave every ounce of everything I had, did everything humanly possible, have as much faith as I could find, for just more heartache. Not once, but five times.  I found that when I felt angry or depressed, it helped to do something nice for someone else.  I sent flowers to my amazing nurse who allows me to email her at any time and has been an angel to me in any time of need, worry, or confusion. She has felt like a friend and her kindness makes it worth the drive to Sandy to be treated. 

Sometimes I feel so bad for Jack. I loved having a big family growing up and I think every kid deserves a sibling close in age. But I have to trust Heavenly fathers plan for our family. I wonder why it has to be like this. Why the loss? Why couldn't we just struggle to get pregnant instead until the time was right and then keep the baby? There's so much they can do to help you conceive. There's almost nothing they can do to keep the baby growing. Why did we feel the need to go this way instead of doing all the tests? After the car accident we both really felt like this was the right thing to do. 

I try not to define myself by my circumstances. I was the best mom to that little life for as long as I had them. I feel like less of a mom, but in a way I'm more of one. Perhaps I've had to sacrifice more for these babies and that gives me greater love.  I've had to fight so hard for my babies. Now I truly appreciate my son and the miracle that he is every day. 

I feel like part of our sorrow is mourning a loss of hope. Each time this happens it's seems less possible that we'll have another live birth.But I can't ever feel cheated. Jack is amazing. 

Little things every day are still difficult.  My mom had to return an entire box of maternity clothes that she bought me.  I told her I didn't want to see them or look at them.  That was rough.

The day I started heavily passing everything brought some more intense pain. I felt devastated because Kevin had midterms, so I had to take care of Jack until 230 in the afternoon, before taking him to a babysitter and working, getting home around midnight, with my next shift starting at 630am and going until the next afternoon. I felt so devastated because I knew I couldn't take any of the pain killers my dr prescribed with this schedule.

I started feeling so sad.  The sadness came on suddenly as the craziness settled down and any of my vices stopped being enough. A loss just feels so different than not getting pregnant. Cause then we could keep trying. Maybe it wouldn't completely tear me up in the same way. To think of that life I had inside me that we would have seen by now, heart beating away. To think I will never meet them or hold them. Like they were just a dream. Like they weren't really there. When I feel really sad I just call my mom and cry on the phone. I wish she wasn't a whole country away. She reminds me none of my babies are lost. They're mine and safe. Just not here right now. When I'm most sad I seem to find blessings to help get me through the day.  Like this card left at my house from some women in my ward at church.  The same night, two different people came and brought us dinner. "Never ever stop dreaming big crazy dreams."  I love that.

I was dreading going in for another blood draw at the clinic to confirm that all the hCG was gone.  That's what they want to see, but it's never "good news." I was so happy to run into someone I had just met, a coworker at the hospital.  I had just spoken to her last week after someone told me about her struggle with infertility. I was happy to see a new friend at the clinic. It made it less difficult. She's had a very long road also.  Situations like this give you an instant connection.  After the blood draw, I was handed a card.  I read it after I got back in the car and started to cry.  There are such good people in the world that are so full of encouragement and hope.  I love how she says "WE will get you that baby!"  It's like I have a whole team backing me up!

Through all this heartache I hear this thought resounding in my mind, "You are blessed to be in the company of strong women, and you are learning how to be even stronger."

My hCG was back to zero, so as soon as we pay off the bills for this last pregnancy (which might take a while) we'll start with some of the more expensive, in depth tests.  It is still hard to see those ultrasounds of people who were due the same time as me.  But I get through it one day at a time, one heartbreak at a time.  I am thankful for so many things, and for so many people.