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.