When Eggs Go Bad...

Weekend of Doom

See, I knew God (or fate or the universe or whatever) wasn't finished fucking with me just yet. Saturday morning, Mr B and I decided that it really was about time we (ahem) got busy. Little did we know just how busy we would get, because following the, frankly, great sex we were greeted by the appearance of copious dark brown stuff all over the place (well, it seemed like it anyway).

Cue the miracle Doppler, which confirmed that the UFO's heart was beating away at just the right speed. But of course, with recurrent miscarriers, there is never a point at which you say, "Oh, good, everything seems fine." No...instead you dredge up the considerable (and yet incomplete) knowledge you have accrued on the subject of foetal death at every stage of pregnancy, and you convince yourself that something is wrong, regardless of whether there's a heartbeat present.

A breathless call to my GP's out of hours service culminated in possibly the worst instance of medical insensitivity ever:

Doc: Well, don't panic but there's really nothing we can do on a Saturday. You'll have to wait until Monday and attend the Bleeding in Pregnancy clinic.

Lola: Seriously? That's it? I may be losing my baby but I have to wait until office hours to find out?

Doc: Well, they don't do scans at the hospital on the weekends

Lola: (Stunned silence)

Eventually the doctor agreed to ring the hospital, and a wonderful gynaecologist (thank you, Dr Jawarha!) agreed to see me in the afternoon. She did a scan and all seemed well. She took a quick peek at my cervix during said scan, and said that there was no indication that it had dilated.

So, whatever the brown discharge was, it doesn't seem to have been an indication of any immediate danger. Though I'm sure you know just how much faith I put in that.

I really don't need this.

Is Today the Day?

Having reached 11w1d with a heartbeat still present, I'm starting to get really antsy. I mean, God (or fate or the universe or whatever you want to call it) has not left my recent pregnancies alone for this long. Surely he/she/it is starting to get an itchy trigger finger, no?

Today is the day for my nuchal scan. And as utterly amazing as it is to have actually got to this point (and not had to ring up sobbing to cancel after yet another loss), I have to wonder if today is the day when my luck changes. At 37, the chances of a Down syndrome baby are relatively high. Not as high as at 40 or 45, I know, but then the chances of miscarriage are higher at those ages and I still managed to beat, say, forty-something-year-old Madonna coming and going in terms of foetal loss. Is today the day when the other shoe drops and I get catapulted back into the thin end of the statistical curve?

I know that I should be thinking positive. More than that, I should be feeling grateful for every day that I hear that wonderful thumpity-thumpity-thumpity through the Doppler. And I am. Truly. It's just that, well, having had the legs kicked out from under me so many times, having had three times the number of pregnancies go wrong as went right, and having experienced first hand how statistics are only reassuring when you get to be in the 'good bit', I just can't shake the dread.

When the radio alarm goes off in the mornings, one of the first things I hear is a short spot called 'Pause for Thought'. The station gets various spiritual leaders, from all faiths -- Christian, Jewish, Budhist, Muslim, Hindu, Baha'i, you name it -- to give a short meditation on some little aspect of life. It's supposed to be uplifting and thought-provoking, in a very anodyne way. This morning had an Anglican vicar talking about his 10-year-old Down syndrome daughter. Was it a sign?

As close as I got to not being insane (with the Doppler and the reasurance it offered) I can honestly tell you that the mania is still there, and today it's very close to the surface.

Wish me luck.

The Most Beautiful Word in the World

Doppler....

Say it with me: Doppppplllerrrr

Finding myself on the verge of utter panic again, I went online a found a place that hires out home foetal heart monitors. Great place: I ordered at 2.45 pm on Friday, and at 7.00 am on Saturday my doorbell rang, and there stood the postie with the package.

I raced upstairs, flung the batteries in, and set about to heartbeat hunting. Now, I was fully prepared not to find it and not to freak out. After all, they say 10 weeks is pretty early for these home machines to pick up heart sounds. But within 10 minutes, there it was, all 165 glorious beats per minute of the Badeggs Foetal Heart.

I tell you, I am a changed woman. I have actually relaxed, yes really, for the first time in WEEKS!

Anyway, it's beautiful sunshine here, so I am heading out to the garden to do a spot of sunbathing and thriller reading. Safe in the knowledge that the UFO seems to be doing just fine.

PS I have been tagged apparently, but I'll get to that next time!

10w1d

If this morning's vomiting was anything to go by, the UFO is still there. It's a bit of a struggle not having the scan this week. I'd be far happier if I could have arranged it (and by a stupid twist of fate, I discovered that I probably could have come home from my business trip on a morning flight and made it in for a scan after all, but them's the breaks).

Today was the first time I've had actual spewage. Once or twice I've lost a tiny bit of my morning ginger tea while trying to brush my teeth, but today was a full on, out of the blue, 'oh dear God I have to get to a bathroom quick' episode. The kind where I couldn't actually catch my breath in between, well, you know, heaving. And this was while I was at work, too.

Hmm...this is a nice post...

I've discovered in the past couple of weeks that two ladies who I know from the ether (they are also recurrent miscarriers) are both pregnant. One is 9 weeks, the other is 6 weeks. I am of course happy for them, but I also get irrationally scared when I hear news like that. I see myself at the very, very narrow end of the statistical probabilty scale, where only a very lucky few recurrent miscarriers will go on to have a healthy baby. And when I hear of other pregnancies in RMs, I immediately think, "Dammit, now my chances are worse!" I know that's utter tripe, but such are the vagaries of the psyche of an RM. I think we'd all agree that we're insane now, when it comes to pregnancy. I even suggested to my OB that she just put me in an induced coma for the next 7 months as it was the only way of calming me down. I was only half joking.

Anyway, Mr Badeggs is out of town, enjoying the hospitality of the United States' fair capital city. So I am on my own (unless you count the cranky cat) and feeling very lonely. Sometimes it worries me how much I depend on Mr B, how much I need his presence. God knows how I would cope if I ever lost him. I can't bear to think about it.

Still, I'm filling the time with mindless TV, thriller novels, and eating takeaways (Mr B is very disciplined when it comes to takeaways; I would happily eat them every night of the week and be as big as Cleveland. So while the cat's away...). And  of course there's the small matter of counting down the days until my next scan (Thursday 15th June at 4.10 PM BST in case you're wondering). I'm hoping hard that the UFO will be floating around happily. Maybe I'll even get a wave.

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.

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.

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.

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...