I'll be 11 weeks pregnant tomorrow. :)
Every week that pushes me closer to the end of the first trimester helps me breathe just a little bit easier, but I still feel like tragedy is going to strike and take this baby away from me like it did the last. I know how morbid that seems, and yet, I can't seem to shake it.
Yes, everything about this pregnancy has been different - and BETTER - than the pregnancy I lost in the spring. In my head, I know that and I know things are PROBABLY okay. But without being able to peek at this little one every time I feel like something is going wrong, I worry.
The past two days, I haven't been as tired. My breasts haven't been as tender or felt as swollen. I haven't felt as nauseated. I've had occasional, mild... twinges in my abdomen. No cramping, no bleeding - just twinges. I can't help but think that maybe something has gone wrong.
Then again, it could just be that I'm getting close to the end of the first trimester, and my hCG is finally leveled off or starting to drop as the placenta takes over, and THAT might be why my body feels a little more... normal.
I just don't know. And I won't know until I get to my ultrasound appointment in 2-1/2 weeks.
In case it hasn't become obvious to anyone who has read either of my blogs for any length of time, I HATE waiting. Patience is not a virtue I possess, as ashamed as I am for it. I think I've finally figured out that the reason patience is so hard for me is because I'm a first-rate, four-star, natural-born worrywart. I can worry circles around others. I'm a pro at it. I don't LIKE that I worry so much, about EVERYTHING, but alas, there it is. I've been this way for as long as I can remember, and I have every reason to think I will continue to be this way until death doth me and my horrible worrying tendencies part. It sucks.
I find myself searching for signs of bleeding twice as often this week. Being afraid to lift even baskets of laundry, just in case things have become tenuous in the recesses of my womb. I even briefly considered calling my OB to see if she could do another ultrasound today, just to be sure. But even I realize how alarmist that is when I have one coming up in a mere 17 days and I'm not even cramping or bleeding.
It's frustrating. I'm at the point now where my regular pants just aren't cutting it but all my old maternity pants are ENORMOUS on me at this point, so I was going to go buy a pair of more modern under-belly maternity jeans this week to get me through the next couple of weeks. But I'm so paranoid that something is wrong that I'm reluctant to go spend money on a pair of jeans I might not end up needing. How pathetic is that?
I keep trying to distract myself. I've been cleaning my house like a mad woman, dusting things I haven't touched in ages, reorganizing the stuff on the bookshelves in the living room, etc. It helps keep my mind off my worries about this baby.
It's days like this when I wish I was one of those women whose feathers get ruffled by NOTHING. From my lips to God's ears...
Fretfully yours,
SW
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
10 weeks
I will be 10 weeks pregnant tomorrow and I still can't quite believe it!
I haven't been this pregnant in 8 years. Literally. And after losing the last one by 7 weeks, I wasn't sure I'd ever BE this pregnant again. Still, until I'm out of the first trimester, I won't be complacent that all is well.
I FEEL pregnant. I'm exhausted, bordering on narcoleptic at times, and my body feels foreign to me. My belly is already expanding, either due to the growing baby or the constant bloated feeling. I'm just about to that in-between stage with my pants, and I'm dreading that point because it'll be too late for my usual jeans, but still WAY too early for maternity jeans. I bought a Belly Band to help extend the time I can wear my regular jeans, and I hope that works well enough to get me through to the point where I can wear maternity jeans and not look ridiculous.
I've had "morning" sickness - if you can call it that, considering that it hits me hardest in the late afternoons & evenings - for weeks. I thought I'd read somewhere that hCG levels peak around 8 weeks gestation, and it's the hCG that causes women to feel nauseous in early pregnancy, so I had it in my head that week 8 might be the hardest and then I'd start to feel better. I'm here to report that that theory hasn't proven true. If anything, I've felt worse the past 2-3 weeks. But I'm THRILLED to say that I haven't had any vomiting -- just nagging nausea. Sometimes I can get it to subside by eating just the right thing when I first start to feel green around the gills, but other times it's just a matter of gritting my teeth and getting through the evening by keeping as still as I can. I'm eyeballing weeks 12-13 in my calendar and praying that this all subsides by then so I can finally just ENJOY being pregnant.
About that... I'm nervous. When I was pregnant with Super Boy eight years ago, I had issues with morning sickness then, too, but once it was behind me (by around 14 weeks) I felt FABULOUS and LOVED being pregnant. I reveled in my growing belly, enjoyed the energy and excitement of the second trimester and early third trimester, and really felt quite good right up to the last 2 weeks or so of that pregnancy. But I was 28 and 29 years old then; I'm 36 going on 37 now. Will it be as enjoyable given that my body is older? Will I be more uncomfortable this time? I'm praying that this experience will closely mirror my last pregnancy. I want to enjoy this, particularly because this WILL be my last pregnancy.
I find myself wishing that I could peek at this baby via ultrasound like every 48 hours, just to reassure myself that he/she is still there, still growing, still okay. Seeing the baby at my 7-week ultrasound a few weeks ago was great, but so much can happen from one week to the next, especially in the first trimester. As morbid as this sounds, I still find myself cautiously peeking in my panties for any signs of bleeding every time I use the bathroom, and breathing a huge sigh of relief when the coast is clear. I worry over every pain and twinge, even though I know some amount of that is normal due to ligaments and such stretching to accommodate the growing baby. You forget all that after so many years though.
Interestingly enough, with Super Boy, both Super Man and I and most of our family members all felt that the baby was a boy, and that was unequivocally confirmed at my mid-term ultrasound when Super Boy kept flashing his junk but refused to show his face! The Chinese birth predictor charts also showed that Super Boy was going to be a boy, based on my age and when I conceived.
This time, despite the fact that the Chinese birth predictor says BOY, I am convinced the baby is a girl, as are my mom and several of my girlfriends. But Super Man, Super Boy and Super Girl all think it's another boy. I feel obligated to mention that my mom just really wants a baby granddaughter, so I think that's made her biased, and the girlfriends who think this baby is a girl all have boys themselves, so I think it might be wishful thinking! :)
I will be overjoyed regardless of whether this baby is a boy or a girl, but I will admit that I've always wanted a daughter of my own. As much as I love Super Girl, she already has a mother-daughter relationship with her own mom, and while we're fairly close, our relationship just isn't like that. With as close as my mom and I are, I have always wanted to have that with a daughter of my own. I've pictured what my daughter will look like, what she will be like, and I pray that was all foreshadowing and not just wishful thinking on my part.
One thing that has been especially fun has been looking at all the new things that have come out for babies since I last had one. The clothes seem more cute and stylish, and the gadgets and gear are so much more attractive and streamlined. We saved a bunch of the stuff we had bought or received brand-new when we had Super Boy, but we got rid of some other things that were just taking up too much room in our basement. I think many of the things we got rid of were things we found we really didn't use that much or things that are cheap to replace, so that's at least a bonus.
The one thing I made sure to save because they were expensive were Super Boy's car seats -- his infant car seat/carrier and the one we used after he outgrew that, until he was big enough for his booster. We bought a beautiful Peg Perego infant car seat/carrier & stroller system before having Super Boy, and a gorgeous Britax convertible car seat that Super Boy used after he outgrew his infant carrier -- but unfortunately BOTH are now expired. I was incredibly frustrated to realize that!
The Peg Perego system was like $300 or $350 when we bought it, and I really don't want to have to buy a new infant seat PLUS a new convertible seat for when the baby outgrows it. So instead, now I'm thinking I will keep the old Peg Perego infant seat and use it solely as a baby carrier and with the stroller, but just get a new Britax convertible car seat that can go from birth to 55 or 70 lbs for the car. It was great to have the infant car seat/carrier when I had Super Boy because I was working full-time and had to shuttle him in and out of daycare, usually in a great rush and with a jam-packed diaper bag, purse and briefcase in tow, so having the convenience of the portable car seat/baby carrier then was great. But now that I'm a stay-at-home mom, and I plan to BE home until this baby is at least a year old, it's not that big a deal to have to take a few extra minutes to put the baby in and take the baby out of a stationary seat that stays in the car. I still have the Baby Bjorn I had for Super Boy, and I think that might be easiest to tote the baby around when we're out and about.
So many things to think about... but so much fun!
For all of you who are still struggling to have another child, hold onto your hope, keep faith, and believe in miracles. They do happen sometimes - and the next one might be yours.
Love and baby dust,
SW
I haven't been this pregnant in 8 years. Literally. And after losing the last one by 7 weeks, I wasn't sure I'd ever BE this pregnant again. Still, until I'm out of the first trimester, I won't be complacent that all is well.
I FEEL pregnant. I'm exhausted, bordering on narcoleptic at times, and my body feels foreign to me. My belly is already expanding, either due to the growing baby or the constant bloated feeling. I'm just about to that in-between stage with my pants, and I'm dreading that point because it'll be too late for my usual jeans, but still WAY too early for maternity jeans. I bought a Belly Band to help extend the time I can wear my regular jeans, and I hope that works well enough to get me through to the point where I can wear maternity jeans and not look ridiculous.
I've had "morning" sickness - if you can call it that, considering that it hits me hardest in the late afternoons & evenings - for weeks. I thought I'd read somewhere that hCG levels peak around 8 weeks gestation, and it's the hCG that causes women to feel nauseous in early pregnancy, so I had it in my head that week 8 might be the hardest and then I'd start to feel better. I'm here to report that that theory hasn't proven true. If anything, I've felt worse the past 2-3 weeks. But I'm THRILLED to say that I haven't had any vomiting -- just nagging nausea. Sometimes I can get it to subside by eating just the right thing when I first start to feel green around the gills, but other times it's just a matter of gritting my teeth and getting through the evening by keeping as still as I can. I'm eyeballing weeks 12-13 in my calendar and praying that this all subsides by then so I can finally just ENJOY being pregnant.
About that... I'm nervous. When I was pregnant with Super Boy eight years ago, I had issues with morning sickness then, too, but once it was behind me (by around 14 weeks) I felt FABULOUS and LOVED being pregnant. I reveled in my growing belly, enjoyed the energy and excitement of the second trimester and early third trimester, and really felt quite good right up to the last 2 weeks or so of that pregnancy. But I was 28 and 29 years old then; I'm 36 going on 37 now. Will it be as enjoyable given that my body is older? Will I be more uncomfortable this time? I'm praying that this experience will closely mirror my last pregnancy. I want to enjoy this, particularly because this WILL be my last pregnancy.
I find myself wishing that I could peek at this baby via ultrasound like every 48 hours, just to reassure myself that he/she is still there, still growing, still okay. Seeing the baby at my 7-week ultrasound a few weeks ago was great, but so much can happen from one week to the next, especially in the first trimester. As morbid as this sounds, I still find myself cautiously peeking in my panties for any signs of bleeding every time I use the bathroom, and breathing a huge sigh of relief when the coast is clear. I worry over every pain and twinge, even though I know some amount of that is normal due to ligaments and such stretching to accommodate the growing baby. You forget all that after so many years though.
Interestingly enough, with Super Boy, both Super Man and I and most of our family members all felt that the baby was a boy, and that was unequivocally confirmed at my mid-term ultrasound when Super Boy kept flashing his junk but refused to show his face! The Chinese birth predictor charts also showed that Super Boy was going to be a boy, based on my age and when I conceived.
This time, despite the fact that the Chinese birth predictor says BOY, I am convinced the baby is a girl, as are my mom and several of my girlfriends. But Super Man, Super Boy and Super Girl all think it's another boy. I feel obligated to mention that my mom just really wants a baby granddaughter, so I think that's made her biased, and the girlfriends who think this baby is a girl all have boys themselves, so I think it might be wishful thinking! :)
I will be overjoyed regardless of whether this baby is a boy or a girl, but I will admit that I've always wanted a daughter of my own. As much as I love Super Girl, she already has a mother-daughter relationship with her own mom, and while we're fairly close, our relationship just isn't like that. With as close as my mom and I are, I have always wanted to have that with a daughter of my own. I've pictured what my daughter will look like, what she will be like, and I pray that was all foreshadowing and not just wishful thinking on my part.
One thing that has been especially fun has been looking at all the new things that have come out for babies since I last had one. The clothes seem more cute and stylish, and the gadgets and gear are so much more attractive and streamlined. We saved a bunch of the stuff we had bought or received brand-new when we had Super Boy, but we got rid of some other things that were just taking up too much room in our basement. I think many of the things we got rid of were things we found we really didn't use that much or things that are cheap to replace, so that's at least a bonus.
The one thing I made sure to save because they were expensive were Super Boy's car seats -- his infant car seat/carrier and the one we used after he outgrew that, until he was big enough for his booster. We bought a beautiful Peg Perego infant car seat/carrier & stroller system before having Super Boy, and a gorgeous Britax convertible car seat that Super Boy used after he outgrew his infant carrier -- but unfortunately BOTH are now expired. I was incredibly frustrated to realize that!
The Peg Perego system was like $300 or $350 when we bought it, and I really don't want to have to buy a new infant seat PLUS a new convertible seat for when the baby outgrows it. So instead, now I'm thinking I will keep the old Peg Perego infant seat and use it solely as a baby carrier and with the stroller, but just get a new Britax convertible car seat that can go from birth to 55 or 70 lbs for the car. It was great to have the infant car seat/carrier when I had Super Boy because I was working full-time and had to shuttle him in and out of daycare, usually in a great rush and with a jam-packed diaper bag, purse and briefcase in tow, so having the convenience of the portable car seat/baby carrier then was great. But now that I'm a stay-at-home mom, and I plan to BE home until this baby is at least a year old, it's not that big a deal to have to take a few extra minutes to put the baby in and take the baby out of a stationary seat that stays in the car. I still have the Baby Bjorn I had for Super Boy, and I think that might be easiest to tote the baby around when we're out and about.
So many things to think about... but so much fun!
For all of you who are still struggling to have another child, hold onto your hope, keep faith, and believe in miracles. They do happen sometimes - and the next one might be yours.
Love and baby dust,
SW
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
at last
I debated whether to write about THIS here, now, or not. But after all the writing I've done about this subject on this blog and over at my original blog, Average Everyday Super Woman, over the past four years, I realize that I can't NOT share THIS. THIS is the whole point of this blog, and I've seen first-hand that me sharing my stories and experiences with secondary infertility has helped others going through it.
So, here THIS is:
I'm pregnant!
It seems so inadequate a phrase for something that has been so fervently wished, hoped and prayed for over the past 4-1/2 years, but it's also been the goal of all of the tears, treatments and waiting, the surgery, medications and frustrations.
Anyone who has wanted and longed and waited for a baby can understand how this has felt, this journey of 4-1/2 years. It was long. It was often lonely. It was confusing, struggling with the question of whether to give up or keep going. The miscarriage in May was devastating, and really became a pivotal point for me.
At first I looked at the miscarriage as God's or the Universe's way of making sure I didn't lose faith and give up -- after all those years of trying and NOT getting pregnant, at least I finally got pregnant: we knew then that we could still make it happen.
And then I wondered if the miscarriage was the sign that while YES we could force a pregnancy with our medical team, it wasn't meant to be and I should accept that and walk away.
Ultimately, Super Man and I decided we'd continue with our remaining IUIs. BUT we agreed that IF I had another miscarriage, we'd get through it and then leave our dream of another child behind and move forward with our family as it is. Oh, that was a painful decision to make... But I know in my heart that I could not go through any more of ANY of it if we lost another baby.
And then...
IUI #4 on 8/25/10 worked.
I found out at my annual ob-gyn appointment on 9/8/10 that I was pregnant again. I didn't think I was; I didn't think that IUI had worked. I felt like my period was coming, although it was one day late. I asked them to give me a pee test just so I could know and be done with it and move on, and lo and behold, the nurse came in and told me the test was POSITIVE. I was pregnant. I was pregnant!!
My hCG numbers were light-years better than those from April. This time, my first hCG was 273.3, one day after missing my period, and my second hCG was up to 688.5, three days after missing my period. My progesterone was 48. Back in April, my hCG was only 27.2 four days after missing my period, and had gone up to just 99.6 six days after missing my period. I have no idea what my progesterone was that time, but it didn't matter: In the end, I lost that pregnancy.
But this one. This one looks like a keeper. At last...
I had a 7-week ultrasound this morning with one of our fertility specialists. I was so nervous all morning. I've felt so different this time, much more pregnant, more like when I was expecting Super Boy, but still. Last time, I thought it was all good and then showed up for the ultrasound only to find out I'd had a blighted ovum.
But this time... My ultrasound showed a growing baby, 7 weeks and 1 day, with a heart rate of 135 beats per minute. I have a picture of the little nut, although it's impossible to see anything in detail. It simply provides the black and white proof that I needed to see with my own eyes: There is a baby, in my belly, and it's alive and growing.
And that's all I need to know for now.
My mom was convinced there were babies. Thankfully, there's just the one baby. Super Man would twitch every time my mom spoke of multiples, although we knew it was possible due to the fertility meds and his family history of twins. As it is, he's so happy and excited, but nervous about being 45 with a newborn, an 8-year-old and a 15-year-old, come spring. I get it; I do. But he's not the only man that age to become a father again, and he surely won't be the last.
I reminded him that it's one of the few drawbacks of him having married a younger woman. He smiled and laughed.
I can't help but think of the irony of the timing of my starting this new blog. I was just going into IUI #4, and although I was hoping for the best, the realist in me was grimly preparing myself for the worst. I had finally forced myself to begin contemplating how I'd cope with coming to the end of the IUI road without another baby, since IUI was literally the end of the road for us. There was to be no in vitro, no adoption, no nothin' beyond our six planned IUIs.
People often asked me why I didn't stop, why I kept trying for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS for another baby. The answer was simple: I always believed there was another baby waiting for us to get the timing & details right. My belief was unwavering. Until the miscarriage. And then I did start thinking that maybe my belief was simply desperate desire & delusion. Now I know otherwise, but I can't help but wonder if my starting this blog and preparing myself for the outcome I DIDN'T want helped make sure that the outcome I DID want would come to pass.
For all of you reading this who are going through your own struggles with secondary infertility, please know you aren't and haven't been alone. Please take this news of mine and hold hope in your hearts that your own good news, your own miracle, is just around the corner. Figure out with your partner how far you're willing to go to have another child, and then resolve to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Hope, hope, hope. And then hope some more.
I am still here, and I will still write here about what our journey to this baby has been like. I don't want to end this blog, and it's my hope that through this blog and through my fertility specialists I can continue to be a resource for others going through secondary infertility. I have no intention of abandoning this cause.
Thank you for reading my words, for pulling for us, and for believing in miracles!!
SW
So, here THIS is:
I'm pregnant!
It seems so inadequate a phrase for something that has been so fervently wished, hoped and prayed for over the past 4-1/2 years, but it's also been the goal of all of the tears, treatments and waiting, the surgery, medications and frustrations.
Anyone who has wanted and longed and waited for a baby can understand how this has felt, this journey of 4-1/2 years. It was long. It was often lonely. It was confusing, struggling with the question of whether to give up or keep going. The miscarriage in May was devastating, and really became a pivotal point for me.
At first I looked at the miscarriage as God's or the Universe's way of making sure I didn't lose faith and give up -- after all those years of trying and NOT getting pregnant, at least I finally got pregnant: we knew then that we could still make it happen.
And then I wondered if the miscarriage was the sign that while YES we could force a pregnancy with our medical team, it wasn't meant to be and I should accept that and walk away.
Ultimately, Super Man and I decided we'd continue with our remaining IUIs. BUT we agreed that IF I had another miscarriage, we'd get through it and then leave our dream of another child behind and move forward with our family as it is. Oh, that was a painful decision to make... But I know in my heart that I could not go through any more of ANY of it if we lost another baby.
And then...
IUI #4 on 8/25/10 worked.
I found out at my annual ob-gyn appointment on 9/8/10 that I was pregnant again. I didn't think I was; I didn't think that IUI had worked. I felt like my period was coming, although it was one day late. I asked them to give me a pee test just so I could know and be done with it and move on, and lo and behold, the nurse came in and told me the test was POSITIVE. I was pregnant. I was pregnant!!
My hCG numbers were light-years better than those from April. This time, my first hCG was 273.3, one day after missing my period, and my second hCG was up to 688.5, three days after missing my period. My progesterone was 48. Back in April, my hCG was only 27.2 four days after missing my period, and had gone up to just 99.6 six days after missing my period. I have no idea what my progesterone was that time, but it didn't matter: In the end, I lost that pregnancy.
But this one. This one looks like a keeper. At last...
I had a 7-week ultrasound this morning with one of our fertility specialists. I was so nervous all morning. I've felt so different this time, much more pregnant, more like when I was expecting Super Boy, but still. Last time, I thought it was all good and then showed up for the ultrasound only to find out I'd had a blighted ovum.
But this time... My ultrasound showed a growing baby, 7 weeks and 1 day, with a heart rate of 135 beats per minute. I have a picture of the little nut, although it's impossible to see anything in detail. It simply provides the black and white proof that I needed to see with my own eyes: There is a baby, in my belly, and it's alive and growing.
And that's all I need to know for now.
My mom was convinced there were babies. Thankfully, there's just the one baby. Super Man would twitch every time my mom spoke of multiples, although we knew it was possible due to the fertility meds and his family history of twins. As it is, he's so happy and excited, but nervous about being 45 with a newborn, an 8-year-old and a 15-year-old, come spring. I get it; I do. But he's not the only man that age to become a father again, and he surely won't be the last.
I reminded him that it's one of the few drawbacks of him having married a younger woman. He smiled and laughed.
I can't help but think of the irony of the timing of my starting this new blog. I was just going into IUI #4, and although I was hoping for the best, the realist in me was grimly preparing myself for the worst. I had finally forced myself to begin contemplating how I'd cope with coming to the end of the IUI road without another baby, since IUI was literally the end of the road for us. There was to be no in vitro, no adoption, no nothin' beyond our six planned IUIs.
People often asked me why I didn't stop, why I kept trying for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS for another baby. The answer was simple: I always believed there was another baby waiting for us to get the timing & details right. My belief was unwavering. Until the miscarriage. And then I did start thinking that maybe my belief was simply desperate desire & delusion. Now I know otherwise, but I can't help but wonder if my starting this blog and preparing myself for the outcome I DIDN'T want helped make sure that the outcome I DID want would come to pass.
For all of you reading this who are going through your own struggles with secondary infertility, please know you aren't and haven't been alone. Please take this news of mine and hold hope in your hearts that your own good news, your own miracle, is just around the corner. Figure out with your partner how far you're willing to go to have another child, and then resolve to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Hope, hope, hope. And then hope some more.
I am still here, and I will still write here about what our journey to this baby has been like. I don't want to end this blog, and it's my hope that through this blog and through my fertility specialists I can continue to be a resource for others going through secondary infertility. I have no intention of abandoning this cause.
Thank you for reading my words, for pulling for us, and for believing in miracles!!
SW
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
a big day
Tomorrow is a big day for us. I can't say why just yet; I just ask that you trust me on that.
In the meantime, I have to ask for lots of prayers and good thoughts and good juju. So much is riding on the outcome of one hour of our day tomorrow that my head is spinning. As has become my motto in life, I'm hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
Just please, please, please let it be the best outcome!
Thanks for hanging with me, fellow secondary infertiles & family/friends. You have no idea how much it has meant to me.
SW
In the meantime, I have to ask for lots of prayers and good thoughts and good juju. So much is riding on the outcome of one hour of our day tomorrow that my head is spinning. As has become my motto in life, I'm hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
Just please, please, please let it be the best outcome!
Thanks for hanging with me, fellow secondary infertiles & family/friends. You have no idea how much it has meant to me.
SW
Sunday, September 19, 2010
power of prayer?
People have often told me over the years that they were keeping me/us in their prayers that God would answer our prayers and give us another child to complete our family. I always appreciated the sentiment and was grateful for their prayers, as I was of course also praying HARD AND CONSTANTLY for the same thing. Only it seemed like God wasn't listening. To any of us.
I'm Catholic. I'm ashamed to say I don't understand my religion completely, but I'm working on it. I have a few big issues with the Catholic Church, and sometimes I wonder if I truly am a Catholic then, or if I'm really "just" a Christian. I'm not sure that it matters entirely what my label is, though.
What I do consider myself to be whole-heartedly is spiritual. I DO believe in God. I DO believe there is a higher power that created us all and guides our lives in ways big and small, and that all of life MEANS something, whether we ever figure out the meaning or not.
So, through the past four-and-a-half years of trying for another baby, yes, I have prayed. Not just to God and Jesus, but to the Universe-at-large. I have prayed that we would find the last member (or members) of our family, somewhere, somehow.
When after three-and-a-half years of trying on our own under the care of my regular ob-gyn we were still not pregnant, I made an appointment with our fertility specialists. I had thought about seeking help from them sooner, but something always held me back. Admittedly for awhile it was a financial consideration, as our insurance wouldn't cover testing or treatment for infertility. But even when we came into new insurance that would cover testing and treatment (up to and including IUI but NOT in vitro), I hesitated to take that step. Maybe it was a matter of feeling ashamed that after achieving one pregnancy (Super Boy) easily and without assistance, we were now completely incapable of repeating our success; maybe it was a bit of resistance due to the sheer sterile mechanics of it all and not wanting to completely rely on medicine & science to make it happen at the expense of love and romance.
How silly of me, I know. For starters, while the love was always present, the romance was long gone! That went out the window after about Year #2 of trying to conceive without success. Beyond that point, it was like a critical monthly mission planned with military precision more than any kind of stolen romantic moments. I had laser-like focus on my window of fertile opportunity, and Super Man just jumped when I said jump. Or, well, you know.
Very hot, yes?
With the first IUI, we sort of knew what to expect, having talked it through with the doctors, but we both felt a little weird about the whole thing, given that we wouldn't even be in the same room when the insemination actually happened. Super Man would go in to the fertility clinic early in the morning, do his thing in a specimen cup, and drive his usual hour commute to work. Two hours later, I'd show up at the fertility doctors' office, strip from the waist down and the doctor and his med student assistant would attempt to impregnate me, with Super Man's swimmers.
Tres romantique, eh?
The only thing that remained spiritual about our new, more scientific attempts to conceive was the praying. As I'd lay on the table for the required 8 minutes after each IUI, I would pray the entire time that our prayers would finally be answered and I'd get pregnant with another baby. I'd cry, too - I'm a hyper-emotional person on my best days, and trust me, the fertility medications only "enhanced" that aspect of my personality. Think PMS ALL THE TIME. Between the praying and the crying and the enormous hope bursting forth from my chest, I felt convinced each time that we would MAKE this happen, by sheer force of will and want.
And yet, I was let down time and again.
And then something happened.
I met a wonderful woman through the new church we joined at the same time we began seeing the fertility specialists. This woman happens to be a nun. And I felt an instant spiritual connection to her.
I can't explain it, and believe me, I've tried to understand it. All I can say is that she reminds me very much of one of my grandmothers, the one I lost too soon, when I was only 10. That grandmother is the only member of my family that I closely resemble, and I always felt I had a special relationship with her, as a child. To see Sister A. and see so much of my grandmother in her was astonishing.
But the connection I felt to her went beyond that; it was like I knew we had been brought together on purpose, at that time, for a reason. I knew she was there to help me as I continued on - and will eventually finish - my journey to try to have another child. What I am meant to be to her, I don't know - but I suspect she does.
I felt compelled to tell her about our struggle, and to ask her for her help in the form of prayer. It was so weird, how strong the urge was, because I usually get to know people a little bit before I bare that part of my life to them. But I shared our situation with Sister A. and asked for her help. She didn't judge me, she didn't make me feel bad or guilty for pursuing fertility treatment; she just told me sincerely and with great kindness and respect that she would be praying for us, and would ask her sisters from her Mother House in Ohio to pray for us, as well.
Over the following months, as we continued on our fertility treatment path, Sister A. would periodically approach me or email me to see how things were going, and to assure me that she was still praying for us constantly. She would send me special prayers in the mail and via email, and include us on the weekly prayer list (without naming us, per my request).
I found out earlier this year that she was leaving our parish and taking on a new ministry in Kentucky, working with the poor in the mountain communities. I was devastated to learn that she was leaving, considering I'd just found her a few months prior, but I knew in my heart she had to answer her call. It was embarrassing how strongly I was reacting to her news, with tears and true sadness to lose her. She assured me she'd stay in touch, and wasn't leaving until summer besides, and she put me at ease. Still, when the end of the religious education classes came around in early April and the going away celebration was had for Sister A., I couldn't stop crying. I was truly heartbroken to know she'd be gone soon.
When I found out that IUI #3 worked at the very end of April, Sister A. emailed me the day after to see if I had any news, almost as though she KNEW I did. I shared the happy, long-awaited news with her and she was thrilled for us. Her sisters back in Ohio emailed us their congratulations as well, and I was so incredibly touched. Over the next two weeks, Sister A. sent me adorable baby-themed notecards so I could continue to write her and update her on the pregnancy after she left for Kentucky, which I was so touched by.
Unfortunately, I lost that pregnancy just a few weeks after it began. I immediately wrote Sister A. to tell her the devastating news. I told her that I was heart-broken, numb, struggling with turning to God for comfort, after He had given me the gift I'd waited so long for only to take it away. She told me how sorry she was, but encouraged me to keep faith, not to give up, to trust that there was a reason. I resisted embracing that thought, but it turns out, she was right.
When I tried to get pregnant with Super Boy, it took us three attempts. I was terribly sad when the first two failed, but after I got pregnant with Super Boy and delivered him - my beautiful, healthy, wonderful little boy - it occurred to me that if I had gotten pregnant on either of the other two attempts, I wouldn't have HIM -- I'd have a different child. And how could I wish for that when the child I ended up having was so perfectly wonderful and lovely and everything I could have ever dreamed of and hoped for and more?
I believe now that the pregnancy in April happened to make me realize that I was right to keep trying, even though everyone around me seemed to be losing faith that I'd ever get pregnant again. That all-too-brief pregnancy happened to keep me from giving up. And I believe that I lost that pregnancy because the child we're meant to have is still coming to us. I firmly believe - and always have - that there IS another child in the Universe destined for us. When it happens, it will happen because THAT is the child we're supposed to add to our family.
Sister A. was right to encourage me to keep faith in God, to trust that He has His reasons. I see that, and I believe that.
Sister A. emailed me right before our fourth IUI attempt from late August, to let me know that she continues to pray for us, always, and that I'd been in her thoughts. I think that was a very good sign.
And I still believe.
I'm Catholic. I'm ashamed to say I don't understand my religion completely, but I'm working on it. I have a few big issues with the Catholic Church, and sometimes I wonder if I truly am a Catholic then, or if I'm really "just" a Christian. I'm not sure that it matters entirely what my label is, though.
What I do consider myself to be whole-heartedly is spiritual. I DO believe in God. I DO believe there is a higher power that created us all and guides our lives in ways big and small, and that all of life MEANS something, whether we ever figure out the meaning or not.
So, through the past four-and-a-half years of trying for another baby, yes, I have prayed. Not just to God and Jesus, but to the Universe-at-large. I have prayed that we would find the last member (or members) of our family, somewhere, somehow.
When after three-and-a-half years of trying on our own under the care of my regular ob-gyn we were still not pregnant, I made an appointment with our fertility specialists. I had thought about seeking help from them sooner, but something always held me back. Admittedly for awhile it was a financial consideration, as our insurance wouldn't cover testing or treatment for infertility. But even when we came into new insurance that would cover testing and treatment (up to and including IUI but NOT in vitro), I hesitated to take that step. Maybe it was a matter of feeling ashamed that after achieving one pregnancy (Super Boy) easily and without assistance, we were now completely incapable of repeating our success; maybe it was a bit of resistance due to the sheer sterile mechanics of it all and not wanting to completely rely on medicine & science to make it happen at the expense of love and romance.
How silly of me, I know. For starters, while the love was always present, the romance was long gone! That went out the window after about Year #2 of trying to conceive without success. Beyond that point, it was like a critical monthly mission planned with military precision more than any kind of stolen romantic moments. I had laser-like focus on my window of fertile opportunity, and Super Man just jumped when I said jump. Or, well, you know.
Very hot, yes?
With the first IUI, we sort of knew what to expect, having talked it through with the doctors, but we both felt a little weird about the whole thing, given that we wouldn't even be in the same room when the insemination actually happened. Super Man would go in to the fertility clinic early in the morning, do his thing in a specimen cup, and drive his usual hour commute to work. Two hours later, I'd show up at the fertility doctors' office, strip from the waist down and the doctor and his med student assistant would attempt to impregnate me, with Super Man's swimmers.
Tres romantique, eh?
The only thing that remained spiritual about our new, more scientific attempts to conceive was the praying. As I'd lay on the table for the required 8 minutes after each IUI, I would pray the entire time that our prayers would finally be answered and I'd get pregnant with another baby. I'd cry, too - I'm a hyper-emotional person on my best days, and trust me, the fertility medications only "enhanced" that aspect of my personality. Think PMS ALL THE TIME. Between the praying and the crying and the enormous hope bursting forth from my chest, I felt convinced each time that we would MAKE this happen, by sheer force of will and want.
And yet, I was let down time and again.
And then something happened.
I met a wonderful woman through the new church we joined at the same time we began seeing the fertility specialists. This woman happens to be a nun. And I felt an instant spiritual connection to her.
I can't explain it, and believe me, I've tried to understand it. All I can say is that she reminds me very much of one of my grandmothers, the one I lost too soon, when I was only 10. That grandmother is the only member of my family that I closely resemble, and I always felt I had a special relationship with her, as a child. To see Sister A. and see so much of my grandmother in her was astonishing.
But the connection I felt to her went beyond that; it was like I knew we had been brought together on purpose, at that time, for a reason. I knew she was there to help me as I continued on - and will eventually finish - my journey to try to have another child. What I am meant to be to her, I don't know - but I suspect she does.
I felt compelled to tell her about our struggle, and to ask her for her help in the form of prayer. It was so weird, how strong the urge was, because I usually get to know people a little bit before I bare that part of my life to them. But I shared our situation with Sister A. and asked for her help. She didn't judge me, she didn't make me feel bad or guilty for pursuing fertility treatment; she just told me sincerely and with great kindness and respect that she would be praying for us, and would ask her sisters from her Mother House in Ohio to pray for us, as well.
Over the following months, as we continued on our fertility treatment path, Sister A. would periodically approach me or email me to see how things were going, and to assure me that she was still praying for us constantly. She would send me special prayers in the mail and via email, and include us on the weekly prayer list (without naming us, per my request).
I found out earlier this year that she was leaving our parish and taking on a new ministry in Kentucky, working with the poor in the mountain communities. I was devastated to learn that she was leaving, considering I'd just found her a few months prior, but I knew in my heart she had to answer her call. It was embarrassing how strongly I was reacting to her news, with tears and true sadness to lose her. She assured me she'd stay in touch, and wasn't leaving until summer besides, and she put me at ease. Still, when the end of the religious education classes came around in early April and the going away celebration was had for Sister A., I couldn't stop crying. I was truly heartbroken to know she'd be gone soon.
When I found out that IUI #3 worked at the very end of April, Sister A. emailed me the day after to see if I had any news, almost as though she KNEW I did. I shared the happy, long-awaited news with her and she was thrilled for us. Her sisters back in Ohio emailed us their congratulations as well, and I was so incredibly touched. Over the next two weeks, Sister A. sent me adorable baby-themed notecards so I could continue to write her and update her on the pregnancy after she left for Kentucky, which I was so touched by.
Unfortunately, I lost that pregnancy just a few weeks after it began. I immediately wrote Sister A. to tell her the devastating news. I told her that I was heart-broken, numb, struggling with turning to God for comfort, after He had given me the gift I'd waited so long for only to take it away. She told me how sorry she was, but encouraged me to keep faith, not to give up, to trust that there was a reason. I resisted embracing that thought, but it turns out, she was right.
When I tried to get pregnant with Super Boy, it took us three attempts. I was terribly sad when the first two failed, but after I got pregnant with Super Boy and delivered him - my beautiful, healthy, wonderful little boy - it occurred to me that if I had gotten pregnant on either of the other two attempts, I wouldn't have HIM -- I'd have a different child. And how could I wish for that when the child I ended up having was so perfectly wonderful and lovely and everything I could have ever dreamed of and hoped for and more?
I believe now that the pregnancy in April happened to make me realize that I was right to keep trying, even though everyone around me seemed to be losing faith that I'd ever get pregnant again. That all-too-brief pregnancy happened to keep me from giving up. And I believe that I lost that pregnancy because the child we're meant to have is still coming to us. I firmly believe - and always have - that there IS another child in the Universe destined for us. When it happens, it will happen because THAT is the child we're supposed to add to our family.
Sister A. was right to encourage me to keep faith in God, to trust that He has His reasons. I see that, and I believe that.
Sister A. emailed me right before our fourth IUI attempt from late August, to let me know that she continues to pray for us, always, and that I'd been in her thoughts. I think that was a very good sign.
And I still believe.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
hCG
Those of you who have been on the infertility rollercoaster with me for awhile are well-versed about this weird little acronym, but for those who are NOT, pull up a chair and sit tight for a little bit of edumacation!
First, a definition: hCG stands for "human chorionic gonadotropin," and it is a hormone. Its role in pregnancy is critical. CRITICAL, I tell you. I say that because it is produced by the developing embryo after conception, and it prevents the corpus luteum of the ovary from dissolving, thereby ensuring that a woman's progesterone levels stay elevated to support the pregnancy. Without adequate progresterone, a pregnancy cannot be sustained.
When a person is trying to conceive and gets close to or passes the end of their cycle, they often buy a home pregnancy test. PEE STICKS!! FUN STUFF, I tell you! (At least for the first few months. After four-and-a-half years, however... You get the drift.) Anyway, the pee sticks are designed to detect hCG concentration in a woman's urine to determine whether there is a pregnancy. Most home pregnancy tests won't turn positive until hCG is above 20 or 25. Blood hCG tests are more precise, and they are sensitive enough to detect serum hCG levels even lower than 5. For the record, fertility doctors consider pregnancy to be achieved any time hCG is over 5.
Now, when I got pregnant with Super Boy many, MANY moons ago (he was conceived in August 2002 and I tested positive on September 14, 2002, when I was 28 years old), I don't think I was ever told to come in for a blood test right after I'd missed my period. I'd gotten a very strong line on my home pregnancy test with him one day after my period was due, and if memory serves, when I called the ob's office to inform them that I was pregnant, I was just told to come for a check-up at - I think - 10 or 12 weeks. I remember them drawing blood at that time, but I am pretty sure hCG wasn't among the tests they ran. So I honestly have no idea what my hCG levels were at the start of that pregnancy.
When we had IUI #3 in April and my period never showed up when it was due on April 22nd, I peed on a stick on April 23rd; it was negative. I skipped the 24th and tried again on the 25th, since my period still hadn't come; that time, I got a barely-visible SUPER faint positive. I didn't know what to make of it. Like I said, the only other time I'd gotten pregnant, with Super Boy, the line was BOLD and it filled me with confidence that YES - I WAS PREGNANT. To have a super faint line 3 days after missing my period, I was a little apprehensive.
I called the fertility doctor's office on Monday, April 26th to get in for a blood test. They called me later that day to tell me that I was "technically" pregnant, with an hCG of 27.2, but it was unusual for the number to be so low 4 days after missing a period, and they told me not to get my hopes up, that it might not be a keeper. Still, I was told to hope it at least doubled by Wednesday, which is what they hoped to see.
On pins and needles for 48 hours, I went back in on Wednesday, April 28th for a second hCG test. When they called that afternoon, I was informed that I was DEFINITELY pregnant, because the hCG level had tripled in 2 days, to 99.6. I was ecstatic!
Until I went in for a 7-week ultrasound on May 14th to find that the pregnancy had indeed failed.
And then the kicker was that I had to start going back in for labs WEEKLY to make sure my hCG was FALLING, indicating a complete miscarriage. Let me tell you, it's a lot harder emotionally to wait for hCG to fall than it is to pray for it to go UP. After 2 weeks, I was considered no longer pregnant when my hCG was down to 1.1.
I did a lot of research about hCG levels after my first hCG test back in April. I had no idea what WAS considered a "normal" result for someone 4 days after missing their period. As it turns out, I found a wide range of what is considered "normal", all of which left me somewhat uneasy, because it did appear that my levels were low at both tests, despite having tripled from the first to the second. Some sources I found online seemed to indicate that when numbers are that low early on, it's often a sign that the pregnancy WILL end, and often in a blighted ovum, which is what ultimately happened with that pregnancy.
I will most certainly be paying attention to my hCG levels going forward if I should happen to get pregnant again. After what happened last time, I will want to see GOOD, STRONG levels, to put my mind at ease.
I hate being a slave to numbers, I really do. It was so much simpler to pee on a stick, see a line, and just sit back and wait out the rest of the first trimester. Having to wait for numbers - which can ether make your day or break your heart - stinks. Especially if you're an impatient person like me!
Baby dust to all of you,
SW
First, a definition: hCG stands for "human chorionic gonadotropin," and it is a hormone. Its role in pregnancy is critical. CRITICAL, I tell you. I say that because it is produced by the developing embryo after conception, and it prevents the corpus luteum of the ovary from dissolving, thereby ensuring that a woman's progesterone levels stay elevated to support the pregnancy. Without adequate progresterone, a pregnancy cannot be sustained.
When a person is trying to conceive and gets close to or passes the end of their cycle, they often buy a home pregnancy test. PEE STICKS!! FUN STUFF, I tell you! (At least for the first few months. After four-and-a-half years, however... You get the drift.) Anyway, the pee sticks are designed to detect hCG concentration in a woman's urine to determine whether there is a pregnancy. Most home pregnancy tests won't turn positive until hCG is above 20 or 25. Blood hCG tests are more precise, and they are sensitive enough to detect serum hCG levels even lower than 5. For the record, fertility doctors consider pregnancy to be achieved any time hCG is over 5.
Now, when I got pregnant with Super Boy many, MANY moons ago (he was conceived in August 2002 and I tested positive on September 14, 2002, when I was 28 years old), I don't think I was ever told to come in for a blood test right after I'd missed my period. I'd gotten a very strong line on my home pregnancy test with him one day after my period was due, and if memory serves, when I called the ob's office to inform them that I was pregnant, I was just told to come for a check-up at - I think - 10 or 12 weeks. I remember them drawing blood at that time, but I am pretty sure hCG wasn't among the tests they ran. So I honestly have no idea what my hCG levels were at the start of that pregnancy.
When we had IUI #3 in April and my period never showed up when it was due on April 22nd, I peed on a stick on April 23rd; it was negative. I skipped the 24th and tried again on the 25th, since my period still hadn't come; that time, I got a barely-visible SUPER faint positive. I didn't know what to make of it. Like I said, the only other time I'd gotten pregnant, with Super Boy, the line was BOLD and it filled me with confidence that YES - I WAS PREGNANT. To have a super faint line 3 days after missing my period, I was a little apprehensive.
I called the fertility doctor's office on Monday, April 26th to get in for a blood test. They called me later that day to tell me that I was "technically" pregnant, with an hCG of 27.2, but it was unusual for the number to be so low 4 days after missing a period, and they told me not to get my hopes up, that it might not be a keeper. Still, I was told to hope it at least doubled by Wednesday, which is what they hoped to see.
On pins and needles for 48 hours, I went back in on Wednesday, April 28th for a second hCG test. When they called that afternoon, I was informed that I was DEFINITELY pregnant, because the hCG level had tripled in 2 days, to 99.6. I was ecstatic!
Until I went in for a 7-week ultrasound on May 14th to find that the pregnancy had indeed failed.
And then the kicker was that I had to start going back in for labs WEEKLY to make sure my hCG was FALLING, indicating a complete miscarriage. Let me tell you, it's a lot harder emotionally to wait for hCG to fall than it is to pray for it to go UP. After 2 weeks, I was considered no longer pregnant when my hCG was down to 1.1.
I did a lot of research about hCG levels after my first hCG test back in April. I had no idea what WAS considered a "normal" result for someone 4 days after missing their period. As it turns out, I found a wide range of what is considered "normal", all of which left me somewhat uneasy, because it did appear that my levels were low at both tests, despite having tripled from the first to the second. Some sources I found online seemed to indicate that when numbers are that low early on, it's often a sign that the pregnancy WILL end, and often in a blighted ovum, which is what ultimately happened with that pregnancy.
I will most certainly be paying attention to my hCG levels going forward if I should happen to get pregnant again. After what happened last time, I will want to see GOOD, STRONG levels, to put my mind at ease.
I hate being a slave to numbers, I really do. It was so much simpler to pee on a stick, see a line, and just sit back and wait out the rest of the first trimester. Having to wait for numbers - which can ether make your day or break your heart - stinks. Especially if you're an impatient person like me!
Baby dust to all of you,
SW
Friday, September 3, 2010
what's in a name
You might be wondering why I decided to name this new blog "My Incomplete Family." And I've got an answer for you. Sort of.
Naming a blog is a tough thing. For starters, there are soooooooooooo many other blogs in the world today that just finding a name that's available is tricky nowadays.
And then there's the matter of finding something catchy, something that gets to the heart of what you want to write about while being easy to remember. And clever - let's not forget clever.
Not that I'm saying that my blog name is clever. But it does get to the heart of what I want to write about, and it's shorter and easier to remember than some of the others I considered. Whoooeeeeeee... trust me on that!
I'm sure there are some who will say I'm being disrespectful or unappreciative of the family I DO have by calling it an "incomplete" family, the family I have been blessed with. And they would be mistaken.
Here's why I picked the title...
In a conversation I had with someone about our fertility struggles a year or two ago, the person I was talking with said that I should be grateful for the child I DO already have, as well as for my stepdaughter, and just accept that a second pregnancy wasn't in the cards for me.
I had to stop myself from responding impetuously and think through the right way to address that, because it IS something that has weighed on me at times.
Finally I figured out how to say what I really wanted to say in response to that. And it was this:
When you and your husband met and fell in love and decided to build a life together, and you were picturing the family you wanted together, how many children did it include? None? Just one? Or was it two? Or four? Or six?
Us wanting another child doesn't mean we don't appreciate the two we already have between us; if anything, going through so much to try to have another and not being able to make it happen has made us appreciate the miracles of Super Girl and Super Boy more than ever. It's just that we still hope to have the family we pictured ourselves having: which included me, Super Man, Super Girl, Super Boy -- and another child.
Before I met Super Man, I always wanted three or four kids of my own. After I met him, and he was older than me and already had Super Girl, I compromised with wanting just two together. We have one of the two -- and we're still praying for the other.
So, yes -- to me, our family still feels incomplete. Is it still a wonderful, beautiful, blessed family? Absolutely; there's no question about that. It's just that we're still one person short of the family we envisioned ourselves having, and that missing person is always on my mind.
Naming a blog is a tough thing. For starters, there are soooooooooooo many other blogs in the world today that just finding a name that's available is tricky nowadays.
And then there's the matter of finding something catchy, something that gets to the heart of what you want to write about while being easy to remember. And clever - let's not forget clever.
Not that I'm saying that my blog name is clever. But it does get to the heart of what I want to write about, and it's shorter and easier to remember than some of the others I considered. Whoooeeeeeee... trust me on that!
I'm sure there are some who will say I'm being disrespectful or unappreciative of the family I DO have by calling it an "incomplete" family, the family I have been blessed with. And they would be mistaken.
Here's why I picked the title...
In a conversation I had with someone about our fertility struggles a year or two ago, the person I was talking with said that I should be grateful for the child I DO already have, as well as for my stepdaughter, and just accept that a second pregnancy wasn't in the cards for me.
I had to stop myself from responding impetuously and think through the right way to address that, because it IS something that has weighed on me at times.
Finally I figured out how to say what I really wanted to say in response to that. And it was this:
When you and your husband met and fell in love and decided to build a life together, and you were picturing the family you wanted together, how many children did it include? None? Just one? Or was it two? Or four? Or six?
Us wanting another child doesn't mean we don't appreciate the two we already have between us; if anything, going through so much to try to have another and not being able to make it happen has made us appreciate the miracles of Super Girl and Super Boy more than ever. It's just that we still hope to have the family we pictured ourselves having: which included me, Super Man, Super Girl, Super Boy -- and another child.
Before I met Super Man, I always wanted three or four kids of my own. After I met him, and he was older than me and already had Super Girl, I compromised with wanting just two together. We have one of the two -- and we're still praying for the other.
So, yes -- to me, our family still feels incomplete. Is it still a wonderful, beautiful, blessed family? Absolutely; there's no question about that. It's just that we're still one person short of the family we envisioned ourselves having, and that missing person is always on my mind.
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