When Eggs Go Bad...

Alive

The UFO is measuring at exactly 9w and both embryo and gestational sac are the right size. This is, apparently, a crucial bit of information. My OB explained that in cases where early scans show a baby and a sac developing at different rates, a miscarriage is often indicated. So, go UFO, go sac!

Heart rate was around 170bpm -- absolutely normal. And there was clearly a head part and a body part to the UFO. I have never been so relieved in my life.

Both the doctor who did the scan and the OB took a lot of time to find out why I was so beside myself. They were honestly concerned and helped a lot with their answers to my endless questions about risk and statistics. The bottom line is that it looks good because

1. I've got past the stage at which the past pregnancies failed (6-7 weeks)
2. The UFO and sac are the right size
3. The heart rate is good
4. I've had a baby before, which tends to suggest that I don't have any clotting or blood supply issues that wouldn't show up in tests.

Because I am away on business next week, I have to wait 2 weeks until my next scan. That will be a nuchal scan to assess the risk of Downs Syndrome. If I make it that far, the following week will be the 12 week milestone. I can hardly believe that there is hope in sight. Mind you, this new twist on the 2 week wait will probably do me in.

I really have been a basket case this past week. Every change in symptoms and I was convinced that baby had died. At least now I know that I can have a range of symptoms, changing daily or weekly, and still everything is OK. But don't stop praying/hoping/sending warm thoughts just yet.

I need you guys.

Panic

I know if I searched the infertility and recurrent miscarriage blogs with the terms ‘loss of pregnancy symptoms’ or ‘fluctuating pregnancy symptoms’, I’d have about a thousand hits. They would be posts where pregnant infertiles obsess over every twinge or lack thereof. Where they give voice to the inner demons that make them panic when their breasts aren’t as sore as they were the day before, or when the nausea has subsided or never developed. These posts would contain the sheer terror that every change in symptoms means something has gone wrong. They would witness the attempts of the writer to convince herself otherwise or to prepare herself for the expected bad news at the next scan.

And at least some of the time, later posts would show how useless such obsession and worry and fear are. Posts with ultrasound images and expressions of near hysterical relief would just go to prove that symptoms cannot be relied upon as an indicator of anything in pregnancy.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I got headaches. And nothing else. No sickness, no sore boobs (at least that I can recall). In my failed pregnancies last year, I had a range of symptoms. In the first one, they never really got going, and they faded away quickly as I began to bleed. In my second loss, I was still feeling them right up until the D&C. In the last one, my boobs had gotten smaller and less sore and I knew something was wrong well before the scan that proved me right. But, you see, each time was different, so I can’t really draw any rational conclusions from them. Even the last one could just as easily have ended up with a living embryo.

And yet, here I sit, consumed with worry and convinced that it has all gone wrong and tomorrow’s scan will once again see Mr B and me sobbing in a spartan NHS office. I feel this way because having spent the weekend in bed feeling absolutely awful, with nausea and retching and boobs so sore I had to hold them up to walk around, on Monday the breasts felt no more than slightly tender, and the nausea was just a background buzz. Today is about the same.

Now, from my previous experiences, my rational mind knows that such fluctuations may mean nothing or they may mean everything, and there is no way I will know until tomorrow’s scan. The irrational side of me is busy trying to convince itself that it just ‘feels’ different, like the baby is no longer ‘there’, hearing me beg it to stay.

I am just so terrified. I don’t think I can take another silent scan.

UFO

Measuring 8w2d; heart rate 158 bpm.

We have an honest-to-heck Uterine Foetal Occupant...

This is a far along as I have ever been (excepting, of course, my daughter). I woudn't say we're hopeful just yet, but we are relieved beyond belief to have seen and heard that beautiful heartbeat for 2 weeks running.

Thank you ALL for your prayers, support, kind words, etc.

And keep watching this space.

Blessings

Just a quick post...

I thought this post, over at Knocked up...Knocked down, was amazing. I've never stopped to think of it that way. And while I  believe that being more fortunate than some does not mean I can't grieve my own tragedies, it doesn't hurt me to stop and think about what I do have:

A loving husband

A fantastic daughter

A job that I love

A warm, lovely house

Supportive parents and sister

Good friends, both real and 'cyber'.

And hopefully, tomorrow, an 8-week-old foetus.

How I Spend My Days

1. Panicking that my boobs aren't as sore as they were the day before.
2. Panicking about why I don't feel as sick as I did the day before.
3. Being hyper aware of any, ahem, dampness in the ol' underwear then rushing to the loo and  taking deep breath before performing a panicked inspection.
4. Idly thinking about baby names before panicking (are you sensing a theme here?) that in so doing I've just brought the entire destructive force of the universe down onto the occupant of my uterus.
5. Marvelling that some women are allowed to be so blissfully unaware during pregnancy that the word miscarriage only ever crosses their mind right be for the words 'of justice'.

In other news, I had another e-mail from the 'friend' who was unhappy with me for not having been in touch when her son was born. Yes. Apparently she was 'puzzled and confused' about my reticence. She doesn't know what she's supposed to say to me, only it seems like I want her to not talk about her son and she's just not willing to do that.

I'm so fucking stupid. That part in my original e-mail to her where I, erm, asked about her son? Yeah, CLEARLY that actually said "You're not allowed to talk about your son." Talk about puzzled and confused. I'm afraid only two words came to mind, and the second one was "off".

Anyway...only 2 more days until the next scan. Thank God it's not any longer. I think I'd explode. Wish me luck.

Thanks

You guys are the best. Thank you for all your lovely comments. I've been on such an emotional roller coaster today (not helped by the fact that I had really bad cramping this afternoon. Touch wood it seems to be better). But Mr B went out to get me all the fixins for tacos just because I had a craving. And if that doesn't make me smile, what will?

I'll keep you updated.

Heartbeat

We saw a heartbeat. A 7-week embryo with a 143bpm heat rate.

We also saw a second, empty, gestational sac. It would appear that this began as a twin pregnancy but one embryo either never began to develop or stopped developing very early on. It’s sad, but somehow I have the feeling that it never really had a chance, so it doesn’t feel like such a keen loss.

I have to say that the Silver Cervix club really is fab. So many caring people and most importantly they deal every single day with couples who have lost babies, early or late in their pregnancies, or who have heath or other problems that put them at risk. They absolutely understand the terror and worry, the complete inability to take anything at face value, and the desperate need for constant reassurance.

I will visit the clinic every 2 weeks, although they have booked me in for another scan after only a week, as this is a critical time for me in terms of when my previous babies died. I will see a midwife, a doctor for an ultrasound (instead of a technician) and an obstetrician, and will be given every support. That in and of itself is a relief.

We were told that I might have some brown spotting caused by the resorption of the undeveloped twin. We were also told that the remaining pregnancy is at no greater risk of loss for this reason (i.e. being the twin of a lost embryo). I hope against hope that is true, but it is hard for Mr Badeggs and me to feel anything but ambivalent at this stage. After all, we saw a heartbeat last time and it meant nothing. But on seeing my reticence, the doctor doing the ultrasound said, “I know how worrying it is, but I can tell you that if this was my pregnancy, I’d be very pleased with what I saw.”

Nevertheless, even as I sit here, I feel sure I’m cramping. There’s a little voice saying: “This is how it felt last time. I bet the heart has already stopped.” I’m still going to be a basket case over every little twinge. I wish I had a crystal ball.

And, you know, more than anything else, this is why my faith has been shattered. It’s not even that my babies died when others who seem far less deserving manage to pop out brats every 5 minutes (well, OK, it’s partly that). It’s that God had the opportunity to create a world where life was fair. Where if you are a decent person you could expect good things, and if you weren’t you could expect bad things. Or at the very least he could have created a world where you would KNOW if your baby had died inside you, where a woman wouldn’t have to spend a week waiting for a scan that would tell her for sure.

I’m just sick to the back teeth of the injustice of this world, and I blame God for it all. He could have made it different but he didn’t. And why? Is it entertaining for him to watch us suffer? Seriously. How am I supposed to believe that God loves me and cares for me when he created the kind of world that can bring such pain? And don’t point at Adam and Eve as the reason for life being crap. Quite apart from the fact that it’s a fable designed to explain why the world isn’t perfect when its creator supposedly is, the same argument applies. Why couldn’t God have created a world where human beings had free will, but where exercising free will in a responsible and decent way would net joy and happiness instead of the equal likelihood of tears and misery?

I hate that I can’t trust that scan. That I can’t just think of that strong little heartbeat and know that it will all be OK. And I hate that the only god I can pray to is the one who set this all up in the first place.

Yeah, Uh Huh, Thanks

Before Mr B and I got married, back in 2003/2004, we used to go to church. Not regularly, really, but periodically. We wanted to get married in church, and I thought it was kind of rude to just show up and pay and use the church for your nuptials. No, better we should at least try to be part of the community. And mainly it was OK. The minister was an American (a ginormous one at that, but I digress), and he was pretty cool all things considered. The congregation were all quite nice, and I even ended up volunteering to put together the quarterly church newsletter.

Three miscarriages later, Mr B and I have found our faith in God shaken to the core. And not just in a "Why is God so mean to us" way, but in a truly questioning the basic theological tenets of Christianity way. We stopped attending church, and I stopped submitting the newsletter.

Eventually, Rev'd Giant American went back to America and the church got a new minister, Helen. She e-mailed me to ask about what happened to the newsletters. I explained about our miscarriages and our shaken faith, but said that I felt I would like to keep doing the newsletter even though we felt unable to attend church. I expected to get at least some interest in the whole shattered faith thing. After all, this was a minister. Her whole job, indeed her whole life if you believe in ministers being 'called' to walk the pastoral road, revolved around helping people to examine and live their faith, right?

Only not so much. I got two short paragraphs of platitudes, ending with some guff about God being there whether we believed in him or not. Right. Thanks.

I've done 3 newsletters since then, and every single one makes me want to vomit. All this mindless crap about God and faith being spouted, in among the notices for bake sales and coffee mornings. I mean, where is the examination of the theology? Where are the tough questions and the hard answers?

So, yesterday, having finished the latest edition, I sent it to Helen and told her that she needed to find someone else. That I was finding it increasingly difficult to put together material for a God and a church I no longer believed in. I admit it; it was a test. I wanted to see if she would show any more interest than she did last time? Would she ring me up and try to find out where my journey has taken me? Would she e-mail me back, quoting scripture that might help? What do you think?

I had an e-mail from her today: "I'm sorry your faith in God hasn't recovered. I'll look for someone else."

And that was it.

I don't know where God is, but I can tell you exactly where he isn't.

Waiting

Thanks for all your supportive comments after my rant last time. I've spent much of the weekend berating myself for having perhaps overreacted just a tad. But then I thought: fuck it. What my friend said hurt. Not even so much the content, but the casual way she worked it into her e-mail, as though to gently castigate me, like I need that after everything I've been through. As Mr B said, any true friend might have thought about saying it and then decided, "Nah, she's hurting; I'll just give her a break."

I suppose, at the end of the day, my friend is entitled to feel angry or hurt about my reasons for not having congratulated her on her son's birth. But to scold me for being OK about my sister and not about her is tantamount to telling me how to grieve, and it still takes my breath away when people presume to do that. Even now I want to say to her: OK, you lose 4 children; you watch your hopes and dreams fade away, and then you come back and tell me how you feel. And if you can promise, hand on heart, that you would acted differently, then I'll make a public apology. You cannot know how you'll react to grief until you are experiencing it.

Anyway, I have to see my sister a whole lot more often, so I really had to make peace with her pregnancy just to stay sane. I think I am pretty fucking amazing for having learned how to deal with it and not want to kill myself.

I can't tell you how great it is to know there are women out there who know how I feel. To know that I can rant and rave and they won't judge me. So thank you again.

There has been no more bleeding, and I've felt permanently hungover this weekend. My boobs are sore, and right down low, just above my pubic bone, there is a hard little lump. I'm afraid to hope, so I'm going to let you guys do that for me.

I've moved my scan up to this Wednesday. I need all the prayers and/or positive thoughts I can get. Hell, I'll even take that sticky baby dust now...

Rage

God help me I am so angry right now I am absolutely shaking.

Shortly after my second miscarriage, I discovered that a friend of mine from school days was pregnant for the second time. Her due date was days from when my twins would have been born. And, understandably I feel, I had some difficulty dealing with it. When her perfectly healthy son was born, a mere week before my twins should have come into the world, I was simply incapable of writing to congratulate her. I sent well wishes through a mutual friend, but that was literally all I could do without being overwhelmed by the grief that was, at that time, still threatening to bury me.

Recently, I wrote to her. I apologised for not having been in touch, and I tried to explain why I hadn't been able to do it. "For some reason," I said, "I have been OK with the fact that my sister is having a baby, but A. was born so close to when my twins would have been born, that it just broke my heart, and I couldn't find it in me to get in touch. I know that's crap, and I'm sorry."

That was a month ago. I didn't hear from her until today. It was seemingly an OK e-mail, until I got to the nice little zinger hidden in the middle:

"I thought about writing sooner but honestly I was having a little problem with the fact that you were ok with your sister having a baby but having trouble with the timing of A's birth."

Well, God almighty, I'm so incredibly fucking sorry that my grief got in the way of your celebrations! How fucking RUDE of me to think that I had any right to feel distraught that my babies die while yours lived. No, seriously, I'm going to go outside right now and flagellate myself with a birch branch. It's nothing less than I deserve for not dropping everything to fall on my knees and worship your precious brat.

Jesus, God, I cannot even believe this person. I always thought of her as a woman of great patience and forbearance, but like almost every other woman I know, once she has kids no one else but them matters anymore. This person has the GALL to have a problem with the fact that I had to tend to my grief over my dead children rather than send a stupid note saying oh well done you for having yet another brat. I'm just devastated and hurt beyond belief that she would make a point of saying that to me in between platitudes of how sorry she is that I've "had such a hard time". HARD TIME????? Fuck me, woman, this is not a hard time. Getting a flat tire on the way to an important meeting is a hard time. Losing FOUR, COUNT THEM, FOUR babies in the space of a year is not a hard time. it's a fucking nightmare that never ends. It is the worst grief imaginable AND YOU HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED IT, so how DARE you censure me for how I cope with it. How FUCKING DARE YOU??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At this point, I honestly don't ever want to speak to her again. You know, another friend of mine has 3 kids. She adores them, and she talks about them a lot. And when I was losing babies like a primary school child loses teeth, she asked me every single time: Is this OK? Are you able to talk about my kids? She loves me so much that she was able to put her understandably strong feelings about her children to one side to make sure that I was OK with it. And most of the time, that very gesture made me able to talk kid stuff without losing it, because I knew that if it became too much, I could ask her to stop and she wouldn't, not for one second, condemn me for it. And until today, I honestly thought I had two friends like that.

Well, losing a friendship like the one I've lost today is one 'death' I can take.