I spend many a night thinking about my journey and where I am today. The fact that I have my most cherished dream come true doesn't completely take away the tragedy and desperation I experienced along the way. However, at least there was a happy ending to an unhappy story. That doesn't always happen.



Do I have any regrets? Some, but it isn't worth discussing today. I am just so grateful I have the life I do with my most precious, sweet baby.

I miss Sally Ann tremendously and I wonder what life would have been like had she survived. I wouldn't have my little T if she had lived and that leaves me with an awkward feeling. I don't believe that things are meant to be but I do believe that my little baby belongs to me and I to her and the universe let us meet and fall in love.

And so the end of the story is also only the beginning and I look forward to what comes next. I hope to update you loyal readers from time to time to let you know what's happening. The question of the decade will be, do we have another? It seems so silly to even say it after the trauma involved in having miss T. However,we do have another embryo there, waiting for us, on ice. It perhaps couldn't hurt to just give it the old college try...

For now, though, please let this blog be a testament of faith, courage and resilience. Let this stand as a story about infertility, hope, baby loss, and continued desire for a baby. I never gave up and, for that, I got a my baby, my hope, my dreams and much more. I discovered what is truly important in being a mother. It's not about a mini me. It's about unconditional love and acceptance, complete surrender, and legacy. Oh- and I learned a lot about patience and impatience...

Most of all, this story is about Sally Ann. My sweet baby who didn't survive. I will love you always. Perhaps we will meet again. I hope so.

For now, let me say take care and good luck on each of your journeys. I will be wearing my lucky socks for you...they worked for me. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May 2011 bring all that you hope for. xoxo

Plugging away

Almost 17 weeks. I can't believe it. Not that the time has gone fast. On the contrary, it is going in slow motion slow. 16 weeks 1 day. 16 weeks 2 days...you get the idea.

We had another u/s this week. All looks great. Baby wasn't cooperating so no goes it on what the gender is. I have my hopes, but a live healthy baby is the most important thing to me.

Last year, my water broke at 17 weeks and I delivered Sally Ann prematurely 2 weeks later. This time for me is very tense. I know that this pregnancy has nothing to do with the last one, but the heart doesn't understand that. So many circumstances remind me of last time. So many questions that will never be answered- the most important one being - did it have to end that way or was there something I could have done?

Why even ask, I wonder. For now, I am fast forwarded back to the here and now. I am just another pregnant woman in the prenatal yoga class. Just another lady with a baby registry at Babies R Us. I wish I could be just another ignorantly blissful woman with child. I supposed I have to settle for who I am. It is certainly better than the alternative. And please believe me when I share how grateful I truly am to be here with baby number 2.

Ultrasound was a hit

12 weeks and counting. On Monday, I had my OB appointment. I hadn't seen this particular doctor since I was in the hospital with Sally Ann. "I have thought a lot about you over the last year. How are you?"

I burst out into tears. I am happy. Very happy. Even ecstatic. But all this excitement won't bring back my precious baby girl. Every fucking time I come to the office, I end up crying. It sucks.

We listened to the fetal heart beat and hugged. Things are going very well so far- completely normal, so she says. The new normal, I think. We decide that due to my high state of panic, I should come in more often, every two weeks, until at least until 19 weeks (that's when I delivered my daughter). I suggest we do this until about 24 weeks. Doc totally understands.

This morning we went for our first trimester screening which includes a highly sensitive ultrasound. Our little one is a mover and shaker, I'll tell you what! I couldn't believe how much exercise the little one was getting. It was amazing. I almost can't believe that I have this live being inside me, growing. I am so thankful to be in this moment. I hope I can stay in this moment until my next appointment.

Next week, I get to stop all my meds except the lovenox. I'm actually relieved that this part is over, but I'm panicked about stopping. Everyone says it's fine to stop. I need to trust that they know what they're talking about. We'll see. Maybe I'll ween myself off slowly.

The question of the day is this: to fetal dopple or not to fetal dopple? Should I rent a fetal heart monitor for the next few months or will that just make me more neurotic? What are your thoughts?

9 weeks, 5 days- another milestone

I was wanting to post my u/s pics but I can't get my scanner to work. My hubby said he'd work on it but, if I wait for him to fix it, I may never blog again.

The u/s went well- baby is right on target, heart still beating- yippie. I also made it past another milestone. Last time, I developed a blood clot at 9 weeks, 2 days. Well that day came and went- no bleeding. I am so thankful that this pregnancy has been so different from the first, in so many ways.

Like my morning sickness, aka all-day sickness. I have been feeling like yuck yuck all the time and somehow love every minute of it. I went to the acupuncturist on Monday and she did some points to help ease the nausea. It worked like a charm- amazing- and yet I was scared shitless that something was wrong. Finally, on Thursday, the queasy feelings began to creep back in. I've decided that I'd rather be sick than worried.

My first OB appointment is Monday. All I want to know is when can I have another u/s?

I guess the next few milestones for me will be the end of the first trimester and then getting to the 24 week viability point. Last time around, my water broke at 17 weeks, 2 days and Sally Ann was born at 19 weeks. I keep telling others this- past performance has nothing to do with today. I do believe that- I just need to keep reminding myself. I deserve to be happy. I will be a wonderful mother.

Happy Birthday, Sally Ann

I built up so much to this day, being worried and anxious about what it would feel like- how would I handle it? Would my world come crashing down? Honestly, it feels much like yesterday and much like I suspect tomorrow will feel. Every day is hard when you have lost a child. Infertility is just like salt on the wound.


But today is Sally Ann's birthday and there is no time for self pity. I picked and put some flowers in her garden. My hubby and I placed the memorial stone, crystals and shells yesterday in preparation. I scattered some of her ashes there, along with some rosemary that I got at a funeral for my friend's twins who died too soon. The Rosemary package reads "the act of scattering some (rosemary) and keeping the rest symbolically recognizes love that will forever live...some to keep and some to give."


I love you Sally Ann. You gave me hope, vulnerability, unconditional love, and compassion in your life cut short. I will give your hope, vulnerability, unconditional love and compassion to the world in the way I live my life. Happy Birthday. I love you now and always.

This time last year

It was at about this time last year when I finally accepted that my pregnancy was doomed and agreed to induce labor on poor Sally Ann. While I was in labor for 18 hours, making my due date tomorrow, this moment of resignation was the lowest point in my life to date. I so wanted to ignore the doctors and perinatologists. Maybe they were wrong. Why couldn't I have the miracle? Why was this happening to my baby?

Due to the risk to my life and future ability to conceive and carry a child, we ended this little beauty's life. With no amniotic fluid, I was told, even if she made it to 24 weeks, she would endure a painful death from premature lungs. She never had a chance.

My hubby and I worked on Sally Ann's memorial garden today. I'll show and tell tomorrow. We added a memorial stone and some special rocks and shells I've collected from all over the world. I am contemplating spreading her ashes tomorrow, but I am not sure I am ready to part with them. maybe I can put just a few ashes there? Is that weird?

I can't believe it's been a year. I love you sweet baby. I'll never forget you and the love you brought to my life.

Jizo

Here is a picture of my memorial garden for Sally Ann.
Jizo statue to protect the souls of departed babies (Lola, my dog, in the background)



Another view of the garden with Boo (kitty). Japenese Maple, shells I collected, Lilies and ornamental grass.



Sally Ann was born and died on July 26th, 2008.

Healing Ritual

I went to a memorial service today. It was for two beautiful twins, Matthew and Ashley, who died too soon, at 5 months in utero. I met the mother and father soon after Sally Ann died, at a baby loss group. Even then, though obviously distraught, the dead baby mama had a composure about her that I envied. I never did learn that composure and, even today, when I talk about Sally Ann, it is with tear-filled eyes and a bit of stuttering.

It has been a year since the twins died and, in a grand cathedral mass, we joined together to honor lives cut short- lives that had little living, but had no shortage of love during their lifetimes. We were there for a formal memorial to validate that yes- these children lived and breathed just like as you and I do, even if it were for only a moment.

I watched in awe at the rituals that the priest performed. This is alien territory for me, being somewhat of a heathen myself. But it made my think about how this ritual, this rite of passage, this formal ceremony was creating healing. I looked at this dead baby mama and, for the first time, saw tears streaming down her face. She let go and publicly grieved the loss of her hopes and dreams. She was vulnerable. There was healing that was occurring right in front of my eyes.

I wondered as I cried- because I always cry- if there is something equally as special and fitting of the anniversary of my Sally Ann's birth/death. Although I am extremely outgoing and social by nature, I am also surprisingly a private person- so my ritual would be something different. What would help me to heal? It won't be about closure, because that will never happen. I can never feel complete about what happened. Don't tell me it was God's will. Don't tell me that things happen for a reason.

I'd like to put it out there to other dead baby mamas and friends of ours- what kind of rituals did you do or would you suggest for me to honor the legacy of love that Sally Ann gave to me? How might I memorialize and give back to the universe the lifetime of love that she and I shared for all too short a time.

I miss you Sally Ann.

New Year's Resolution-Renewed Hope

The Definition of Hope
"A confident desire: a feeling that something desirable is likely to happen; likelihood of success: to want or expect something: to have a wish for something to happen or be true, especially something that seems possible or likely." (Encarta)

It is tough to stay in that place of hope. I have been down it so many times before. I am currently waiting on the two week period between IUI and discovery- today is day 10 post insemination. I wonder- when will it be my time? Is this my time? I have almost become numb from the process.

I started spotting yesterday- I can't tell the difference between implantation bleeding that I experienced last April and the onset of my menses. All will be known soon enough. I think I may take a pregnancy test tomorrow.

I guess what's different now is that I feeling a bit run down. It's been almost 4 years since I began this journey. Someone recently said to me that it is easier to think about DE when your back is up against the wall. I know what she means. If I had agreed to DE three years ago when it first came up, I would have a two year old by now. My mother would have met my baby before she died. Ahh, would of, could of, should of. Silly me. No need to go down that road again.

This "doom and gloom" I am sharing is not what it seems. My new year's resolution is to get back on the hope bandwagon- to believe that I can have what I want, even if the picture isn't exactly what I had planned. What I truly know now is that this year I will become pregnant, no matter what it takes. I am not quite ready to move on to DE yet, but I am damn close.

Let's not forget 2008. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I had my dreams answered with the surprise pregnancy. Wow I was so happy. G*d how happy my baby daughter made me. Then the loss of Sally Ann was definitely the worst thing that has ever happened in my life. In an instant, my hopes and dreams were gone. G*d that really sucked ass.

The only thing I can hold on to is what she taught me in her short life within me- things like unconditional love, my willingness to protect my child at all costs, the utter love between myself and my husband. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that she also taught me that I can get pregnant when I had pretty much given up on that possibility. And her death uncovered a rare clotting disorder that I have. That knowledge could have actually helped to save my life.

The legacy of my Sally Ann will live on in my heart forever and my best tribute to her is to be the best mom I can be. That is how I will honor her memory.

Christmas and Beyond

Well the day came and went fairly uneventfully. Rather than spending it with our families, we decided to spend the time, just the two of us, quietly at home. No tree. No presents. I barely even opened all the holiday cards yet.

At the last minute (the night before), our neighbors invited us over for their special luncheon. They had way too much food and needed help. We obliged. it was actually really nice being with people who are pretty much removed from the whole situation. I actually enjoyed myself and we got to leave when we were ready to go.

I suspect that the anti-depressants have begun to kick in by now. I am feeling fairly ambivalent rather than feeling like I am on the hope and despair roller coaster. I guess that's good.

I have been thinking a lot about Sally Ann lately though. Not so much thinking about her, but remembering back to holding her. I remember how small and fragile she was, her tiny body bruised by the mere act of a natural child birth. I never took any pictures. I really regret that. I spent some time complaining about that with my husband the other day. How come the nurse never suggested I take pictures? After I finished bitching, my husband informed me that they did offer and that I declined. I have no recall of this. Maybe I was in shock or maybe repulsed by the idea of memorializing such a traumatic experience. In any case, that ship has left the port.

My IUI was uneventful. I have been resting ever since and plan to continue that protocol for the next couple of days. I am a very superstitious person and so, of course, I am looking for signs all over the place (see Tertia's blog "so close" to understand fully what I am talking about). The curse of "what's meant to be." Is it fate I lost Sally Ann (how ridiculous is that?)? If I heard my favorite sound on another woman's blog and she used donated eggs, maybe it is a sign that I should choose that path. I wonder, I wonder. What is my next step on this road? I hope that, as I come around the bend, I'll find out my pain and wait is over.

Maybe I should have a blood mary and take a nap instead.

Feeling kind of so-so

Lots have been going through my mind in the last few days. Last week was Yom Kippur-the holiest day in the jewish year- a day to reflect, to repent for your sins, and to mourn for the dead. I was unprepared for the flood of emotion that would come up for me. Mother-daughter stuff. I remembered back to last year when I was inconsolable around the loss of my mother and here I am now, with two losses. How ironic. Part of the day also focuses on setting yourself for what you wish for in the coming year- how you would like that unfolding to be.

I wish for a baby. I wish I become a mother. Soon. Please, please, please.

Those were the days

I remember back to how scared I was when I first found out I was pregnant- I wasn't sure how to feel since I had never been pregnant. I had complained right before the IUI that it had been 37 cycles of trying. There was a deep heaviness when I referred to the process that way- 37 attempts.

The truth was that it wasn't really 37 cycles. Yes- it had been 3 years, but a lot happened in that time frame. My mother was sick with cancer and I would often fly to be with her- out of range of my husband's "Superman" sperm as the doctor called it. I don't know how many months that occurred- I didn't really keep track of that. Moreover, in the early months, I didn't know what I was doing. The old adage- if you don't use birth control, it's an accident if you DON'T get pregnant- was in my mind so I didn't plan or time marital relations. I just came home from the bar, straddled my husband and said "let's make a baby." Oh, the good old days!

I also took on a new job that required some travel. I wasn't travelling too too much, but the first time I used the ovulation predictor kit, I had flown to Orlando FL for a conference. I knew I would be ovulating while I was there so my husband took off time to fly down there a few days after me to be sure we "matched" it up right. Low and behold, I ovulated two days before he got there.

If I look at the story I have told myself, I may have slanted my "truth" in a way that made me feel worse, not better. It didn't really matter by this past April- I had gotten pregnant. I mean, my issue was getting pregnant, not staying pregnant.

It took me just about 9 weeks to really get into it and not be completely frantic. When I first saw the ultrasound at week 5, I was terrified. There was a little heartbeat in what looked like a blob. How would that fragile thing live?????

At 9 weeks, the picture looked like a baby. All the doctors and nurses were congratulating me- they said the baby looked great. Very strong. They were extremely pleased. In fact, they said their work was done and they released me to my new OB.

I had found my OB about a week before. Still, I felt sort of lost in that I didn't know how to be just a pregnant woman. My story had gone from "when will I ever get pregnant" to "I met my husband, fell in love, got married and created our family" in a matter of minutes. I look back now wondering if there was a part of myself that thought "you fake! You know it can't be that easy."

I spent a non eventful weekend going back and forth on the matter until Monday, I decided this was my fate. I began telling close friends and reveling in the newness and joy of the experience. I shared my new story with my husband, my therapist, my family. It was a dream come true.

Until about 4:30 am in the morning of that very day. I went to the bathroom and blood gushed out of me. Falling into the toilet was large clots of tissue. I remember looking into it and saying- there's the baby. I was in total shock. I can't even describe the terror. I immediately called the reproductive endocrinologist. When the on-call MD called me back, she said I should call my OB. Now I am faced with calling a stranger's office to try to explain what had happened.

The on call doctor called me right back and asked me to remain calm. She told me to come to her office at 8:00 am- 30 minutes before they opened. It would be easier than going to the ER. Just remain calm.

I called my friend from 1st grade- she had 3 kids, Maybe she could calm me. "Oh I know someone who had the same thing, It was a blood clot. Don't worry just yet" she said. OK. I won't worry. Blahhh- did I lose my baby?

That was the longest 3 hours of my life.

I arrived at the unfamiliar office and they took me straight away to the ultrasound room. They got me situated and took a look. Low and behold, there was my sweet, beautiful baby, just moving and shaking, heartbeat absolutely perfect. I felt truly blessed, so happy, so grateful. Everything might really be OK.

Normalcy?

The flowers are dead. I tried to pick through them a bit to see if I could salvage the live ones. I am holding on to what? I don't know. I took a small vase from one of them and have decided to make a little dried flower memorial to Sally Ann. Rituals like this feel oddly healing. I used to think that dried flowers were just clutter. Now I feel like I just couldn't throw away these!

Now I am in the phase where I am convinced I killed my baby. Second guessing doesn't even cover it. I started thinking that maybe I shoudn't have induced labor. I had 5 doctors and a specialist telling me to. I just wonder if I held on longer, maybe my fluid would have reaccumulated. Maybe my cervix would have opened slowly enough (it had begun to dilate) that we could have made it to 24 weeks. At that point, I could have taken steroids to help her with her lung capacity. Maybe medical intervention was a mistake. I'll never know because I chose a path on which I could not turn back.

I feel so @*$#% up! I am consumed. The moment I wake up, it's there. I guess I don't want it not to matter. Sally Ann was so important to me- she was my hopes and dreams realized. What kind of mother would I be if I could just brush it off. I just wish it hurt a little bit less.

I want to be in a good place to try again. I want to feel emotionally and physically well so that my body can conceive in October. How am I going to get to that place? How can I find the beauty and goodness in life? How can I find hope?

Breathe in. Breathe out. All I have now is today. Breathe in. Breathe out.

On an upbeat note, someone asked me if I had lost some weight- that I was looking good. Funny what a little blush, a black suit and losing a baby will do for your figure.

I better go attend to my husband. I keep forgetting he is hurting too and needs some attention.