It Was Inevitable

One of my best friends from college is having a baby in June and her baby shower is in three weeks. I've gone back and forth about whether or not I should attend. On one hand, I fear a Charlotte-like scene from that Sex and the City episode where she breaks down at her friend's baby shower. On the other hand, what is much more likely is I'll go, plaster on a smile, coo at the baby clothes and my friend's beautiful belly--and come home and cry for two days straight. She knows about the miscarriages; in fact, we got pregnant at the same time in September, she for the first time and I for the second, and had already made plans for our lives together as new mothers. So maybe I should just tell her the truth: that I can't do it. I don't need my grief and failure slapped in my face right now. I really, really, really don't want to be there. I hope she will understand.

Diagnosis, Maybe

Yeah, so I wasn't pregnant last cycle. After several frustrated calls to the nurse ("No, the Prometrium won't interfere with your period," then, "Stop the Prometrium when you get your period," then, "How late are you? Well, yes, the Prometrium can make your period late," to, "Three days late, no positive pregnancy test, no period? Stop the Prometrium, it must be keeping your body from bleeding.") I felt incredibly discouraged at best, downright deceived at worst. I hate the Prometrium for tricking my body into thinking it was pregnant when it wasn't. My Easter was horrible, crying during church and the whole works.

But after a few days of being really, really disappointed, I bounced back again, and this time seemingly higher than I've been since before the second miscarriage. The sonohystogram yesterday revealed a bicornuate uterus, which my doctor said could possibly have contributed to my miscarriages, but wasn't anything I should worry about. Of course I googled it and found terrifying post after terrifying post about bicornuate uteruses (uteri?) and miscarriage. But I'm going to trust my doctor and hope that she knows what she's talking about when she told me not to worry. Maybe mine is really, really mild.

Anyway, on the plus side the ultrasound also revealed a perfect follicle at 25mm, ready to burst imminently. "Go home and have sex NOW!" was my doctor's prescription. I already knew I was ovulating; that has never been in question. But it's early this month, and I actually hadn't even started my ovulation testing. So I would have missed it this month were it not for the ultrasound! Starting popping the Prometrium last night. We'll see how it goes.

1 Day To Go

Day 4 on the Prometrium, 13 dpo ("days past ovulation," I've learned, as a bonafide member of the infertility/recurrent miscarriage club). No spotting yet, which makes me hopeful...every other cycle since my second miscarriage in October has started with 2-5 days of spotting before I get my actual period. And my actual period has never been a day later than the perfect 28 day cycle...which would mean that tomorrow I should get my period. But I haven't had any spotting at all...so what does that mean? Is the Prometrium keeping the spotting at bay, even if I haven't conceived? Or does the lack of spotting mean that maybe I actually have conceived and I won't get a period tomorrow? I'm trying SO hard to be relaxed and all zen about the whole thing, but I've experienced enough disappointment to almost come to expect it. I know that conceiving is only the first step, and that that isn't even where I've had my problems in the past. But that's what I'm focusing on now, and hoping that all my praying and hoping (and the Prometrium) will help me stay pregnant this time.

Bring On The Progesterone Supplements

So my progesterone level (levels?) on Friday, Day 21, were 11.1. The doctor called me today with this information, and said that while that falls within the normal range, it is on the low end of normal. She said she likes to see 15 or higher. Which I don't totally understand, since google searching has suggested that anything between 10 and 20 is normal. But believe me, I'm not about to argue if she sees something that might possibly be contributing to my miscarriages. And either way, 11.1 is at the low end. So she is prescribing progesterone supplements for me to take, starting tonight. She said there isn't any statistical evidence to show that progesterone supplements actually do work, but that it won't hurt. Is it just me, or does there seem to be a serious lack of research in the medical field regarding miscarriages? I've spent the last 9 months trying to figure out what could possibly be going on, and all that I've discovered is that diagnosing cause of miscarriage is nothing but a series of shots in the dark. Why isn't there more research being done???????

FINALLY, some progress

I am so exhausted from catharsis that I can hardly type this. I finally, finally decided I couldn't live with this stress level anymore and made an appointment with a doctor to plead my case for some testing following my two miscarriages. No pleading necessary, fortunately. She took a look at my detailed chart of my past three cycles and ordered a progesterone test and a sonohystogram. I've heard the ultrasound can be a little painful, but at this point if they told me they had to cut off my leg in order to start determining why I've been miscarrying, I wouldn't hesitate to allow it.

Today, I Can Breathe

I feel good today. Maybe it's the gorgeous, sunny spring weather promising yet another new beginning. Or maybe it's just because I have that doctor's appointment in just four days; the one where I'll find out if maybe, just maybe I can have my progesterone levels tested. I have no idea if that's what's been causing my miscarriages, but I feel like I have reason to check it out. My mom, a nurse, agreed that, given the last three cycles that I've carefully charted, a doctor could reasonably come to the conclusion that a progesterone test would at least not be a total waste of time. We'll see...

I Feel Better For Being Proactive

My newest theory as to why I have miscarried twice is that I have a luteal phase defect. I've been charting my ovulation for the past three months, and the number of days between ovulation and menstruation have been between 8 and 11. This seems short, based on everything that I've read (and I have read obsessively!). So I made an appointment with my doctor for next Tuesday, hoping that she will come to same conclusion when she looks at my cycles that I've so carefully charted with a spreadsheet. If she doesn't, I am definitely not above the old, "I'm not a doctor, but...have you considered this?" I'm sure it's annoying for doctors when patients come in having self-diagnosed, but seriously, doctors can't know everything. And if I don't advocate for myself, I don't see who else will. I just want to make sure I've done everything I possibly can do--I can't think of anything worse than having a third miscarriage that could have been prevented had I been a bit more aggressive in trying to figure out what's going on.

Sundays Are Hard

I find going to church one of the hardest things to do, post-miscarriages. First of all, our congregation is full of young families with their cute little babies and kids. And we are friendly with a lot of these couples, so they're not just random nameless people with babies--I've found that I have a completely different reaction to a stranger walking down the street pushing a stroller, and to a friend who is having a baby. Maybe this is normal.

But second of all, I have found my faith to really be challenged during the last 9 months. I wonder if God hears me--if he hears my pain, if he hears my desperate prayers for a baby. It's not like I'm asking to be rich or to be famous; I'm asking for a child, the privilege to bring a new life into this world. Something that I always took for granted as a woman. I feel sometimes like he's forgotten me, and I struggle with maintaining hope and faith.

A Meditative State

What a crazy society we live in, where the only way we are able to relax is when we pay someone $20 an hour to tell us we can. Otherwise known as yoga, which was the best way to start my weekend this morning. Maybe it was the extended shavasana that the instructor gifted us with today ("What a tense lot you all are this morning," she exclaimed near the end of class), but while coffee-ing with my 6 month pregnant friend afterwards, I really felt a peace that I haven't felt much since the second miscarriage. This will happen for me, I found myself thinking. Of course it will. So things haven't gone according to plan so far. Life is unpredictable, and I am certainly not the first woman of child-bearing age to stress and worry about having a baby. My friend's grandma had six miscarriages. Can you imagine it? Six. Then she had two healthy babies. I am trying so hard to put this in perspective. Life goes on, and I will have a baby someday.

The Cycle Begins Again

Today was a pretty decent day. That is, I only cried once, and I didn't have any episodes of total devastation. It's been four months, almost to the day, since my 2nd D&C following the hellish two weeks of blood tests and ultrasounds. I really felt like I grieved more efficiently and healed more completely after the first miscarriage + D&C...this time, I am still having those Bad Days (you know the stock phrase when people ask how you are doing: "Oh, there are good days and bad days") and they just don't seem to be going away. Having the two miscarriages back-to-back (three months apart exactly) really took its toll on my ability to be resilient.

But it's the first half of my cycle, and these two weeks are always better than the second two; in spite of everything, I'm still miraculously able to have hope that this will be the cycle where I'll conceive and have a normal pregnancy. The second two weeks will predictably be filled with anxiety and counting down the days until I can do the hpt...these two weeks are my respite.

And that Riesling with dinner tonight--that was really great.

I Might Have To Get Drunk to Make It Through Coffee With Her

I just made plans to get together with a close friend on Saturday--who is 6 months pregnant. I haven't seen her since she was about 15 weeks, and she thoughtfully was donning a bulky sweater that hid any emerging bump. She and I got pregnant (me for the second time, her for the first) the same month, and were thrilled to be due just days apart. Now the thought of seeing her makes my heart ache with the unfairness of it all, but I can't alienate all my pregnant friends. Can I? I'd be pretty much left with my college roommate who thinks having babies is lame, and my best gay guy friend.

It's that stage of life, I guess--everywhere I turn I'm reminded over and over again about my own failure to sustain a pregnancy, and I feel so, so alone.

I Want to Heal

I've been writing in a journal since I was 14, and I've been enjoying the world of blogging now for about two years. But after my second miscarriage in November, every ounce of creativity was sucked out of my body to make room for the grief and utter despair. My old blog was funny and--I like to think--kind of clever. I have missed writing, but I can't find anything inside me anymore that sees life in the silly, innocent way that I used to.

Last night, while obsessively searching for the answers as to why my body has miscarried twice in the last 9 months, I came across a fabulous blog by a woman who has miscarried four times. She had links to dozens of other blogs by women who have also had heart-wrenching journeys toward conception and who are finding an outlet through blogging.

I finally think I know how I'm going to deal with my grief and attempt to move beyond it so that I'm at a more peaceful place: by doing the thing that I love more than anything. Writing.