In anticipation of Father's Day

Well apparently Hallmark doesn't make cards for bereaved fathers who have lost their babies. I tried two stores near my home with a score of 0-2. I guess if I had some forethought, I could have found something online. Oh well.

I think I'll actually be more sad tomorrow than hubby. He really didn't get to bond with Sally Ann. My theory is that women bond with their children while pregnant, once they begin to feel the baby move. Men, I believe, bond after birth, when they can hold and feel their precious baby in their arms. Nonetheless, the road that we've been on will certainly bring up some feelings tomorrow. I just hope I am in a place where I can be there for him like he has been there for me over these past 4 years.

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On another note, I got a disturbing message yesterday afternoon from the Hell nurse at my fertility clinic. The committee has reviewed my file and they think I should see a hematologist before the procedure. Fine. But- they recommend my ceasing the BCP until the consult, which will put my transfer back a month. No way. You can blow me, miss nurse.

I am not doing anything until Monday when I can discuss this more rationally. I was on BCP for years with no issue. I have no intention of pushing this back a month so that I can have the consult. I'd rather start blood thinners now if I need to but don't tell me, after I have been sitting around for the past few months with my finger up my butt waiting that I need to postpone another month. No no no no- no can do. Sorry, Ma'am- but we're doing it my way this time.

Wow- I feel so much better now...

BFN

Well- I gave it all I could. Can't say I didn't do everything humanly possible to bring a mini me into this world. For the first time ever I was 5 days late and actually beginning to fantasize again. Joke's on me, it seems.

I'll take that hope into my next chapter. I started BCP today for an August "alternative family building activity" (is that cryptic enough for the non-knowers?).

Wish me luck. I'll need all of you to lean on as I grieve, accept things things I cannot change, heal, move on, and become ready to receive new life within me- all in 8 weeks and counting...

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.

Why do you want to be a mother?

The answer to this question is complicated and can vary greatly from woman to woman. One thing I know for sure is that I have always wanted to be a mommy. I still recall the baby doll my mom gave me as holiday gift. I must have been about 7 or 8. I unwrapped the box, and in a rectangular wicker box was a life-sized infant baby doll. She was one of those dolls that you could feed and change. I was so excited that I had this special baby of my own to care for and love.

Is the most important aspect of motherhood the passing on a genetic link for future generations? This creates a possibility of genetic immortality- ones DNA can continue on through time until that branch of the family tree ends. There is something very comforting in that. My grandmother Sally, for example, had a strikingly beautiful color of hazel eyes. She passed that gene onto my father who, in turn, gave that to me. This side of my family link also gave me strong teeth and, at 40, not one cavity. I also got my nearly perfect eye sight from my paternal ancestry. The only glasses on that side of the family come with advancing age. While none of this may really be all that important in the grand scheme of things, it always strikes me as pleasing when I look at photos of my grandma, my dad and I. There we are, standing together, with the same eyes, same teeth.

Possibly more important than eye color is the legacy that was passed down through generations. My characteristics, values and perspective on the world were formed, in part, by how my grandparents raised my parents and, in turn, how they raised me. My grandma Sally had a witty sense of humor, exuded sensuality, was classy and held herself with grace. She had self confidence, was assertive and went after her dreams. No one could tell her she couldn't if she really wanted something. I like to think that those are but some of the traits she gave to me and those that I want to share with the world as part of her legacy. I want my children to have high integrity, a sense of priority towards family and community, and to learn to love deeply. I want my children to believe they can do or be or have anything they want and have the confidence to go after their dreams. I am so glad that Doug feels it is of the utmost importance that our children believe they can accomplish anything they put their minds to. So often as a child he was told he "couldn't" accomplish things-because of this, he wants the kids to have that confidence to go after their goals.

The idea of creating a family with Doug is also very important. Part of this has to do with the idea of blending the two of us into one- a genetic soup, if you will. The other piece of this is that it feel like the natural next step to grow an extension of our deep love. If Doug and I are great together, having a couple additions can help complete our family. It is the natural next step. I envision setting up the tent in the back yard on a warm summer evening, watching Doug teach the children how to ice skate, going to Sox games as a family, sitting at the kitchen table and helping with homework. It is the simple idea of parenting that brings great joy when I think about it. Nothing glamorous- just doing the every day mommy things.

I have never been a quitter. I think that is why I have been so successful in my life. I am a troubleshooter. I get things done. I go after my dreams and make things happen. That is one reason why this fertility journey has been so painful- I just figured if I put my mind to it, I would be able to have this dream. This month marks the official 4-year mark of my ttc. I never thought I would be here still with no children of my own. 13 IUI's, 2 IVFs, a whole lot of well-timed sex and the only thing to show for it was one traumatic second trimester loss and one very early miscarriage. When do I decide enough is enough?

I was on a Resolve conference call last week with a fertility expert and the topic was decreased ovarian reserve. This diagnosis may be made when you look at a whole host of signs- putting them together and it paints a picture. At age 40, I am now considered of advanced maternal age. At age 20, 80% of eggs produced monthly are considered genetically normal. By age 40, 80% are considered abnormal, causing a decreased ability to conceive and implant. My FSH levels are considered borderline high. While I have been known to dip below 10 once in a while, my numbers tend to range from about 10.1 to 14.2. This range does not exclude me from being able to have fertility treatment, but it does point to a lower statistical rate of success. Finally, my body's response has been low even to high levels of fertility meds. The fertility expert on the call said that if a woman only produces 1-3 mature eggs with high levels of meds, this may be indicative of low ovarian reserve. He said high levels of FSH were about 200 IU. I have been routinely prescribed 450 IU (the maximum does allowed) and have, at most, produced 3 mature follicles. I asked the question of the doctor- "if I was your sister, how many cycles would you suggest before moving on to other family building options?" His answer was 3 cycles.

There are so many motivations for having children- I guess it is my job to figure out what is most important. My doctor is willing to continue with the IUIs for as long as I am willing to try. After all, I did get pregnant last year so we know I can. Even if the statistics are not in my favor, pregnancy is not impossible. However, I have spent 4 years consumed with this goal. I can accomplish motherhood in a variety of ways.

Simply put, I wonder if I am wasting precious time being unhappy and missing out on motherhood in my attempts to become a mother.

Why do you want to be a mother? What would you tell me if I were your sister?

It's Raining Blood

Well, I'm not pregnant. Not only that. I was bleeding so bad, I bled through my pants at work- think sieve. As you may be thinking- the implantation bleeding
was not. Or maybe it was, and it was another miscarriage. I'll know soon enough.

I am in Philly on business and needed to arrange to go to a different hospital for day 3 work up. My meds are being overnighted to me here. "Don't you want to just take off a month?" says the nurse from my hospital in Boston. "About as much as I want to cut off my arm and have you eat it."

My saving grace was definitely the coordinator at U Penn who helped me get this thing going. I called them in a panic- should I take a 1K plane to Boston? Should I fly into RI and drive the hour? What do I do????????????? Can you help me???????

"Take a deep breath," she said. "Take a calm, deep breath. We can help you here. We can even give you a patient discount if your health insurance won't cover it here."

I love her. She made me feel so much better. It's people like her- and like all of you- that help keep me sane. She even followed up to check in on me later. I think when this is all over with, I want to be someone who works in the office who can help others like me, who become lunatics with grief and stress and frustration. I want to be the one who says, "I am here for you, whatever you need."

A Wide Open Heart

Steel was forged by fire.

That was a saying my friend Karen mentioned to me yesterday. She reminded me that my heart was ripped open by what happened. In talking about how obstacles make one stronger, she asked me to think about what Sally Ann and this experience have taught me. Ok- people are always talking about what we learn from a terrible experience. It almost seems like a silly exercise. Let me try on that theory and really think about it.

What I learned:
**How very strong I am
**I am an amazingly great mother and would go to any length to save my baby- nothing off limits for my child
**I can love more deeply than I ever knew I was even capable of
**What a great, strong man my husband is and how intensly he loves me
**I am not alone- there are loved ones and strangers that have reached out to share in my pain and to give me hope. I have felt the true generosity of others
**I am a money magnet, convincing my HMO to spend 50K to fly me home to the states-if I can do that, I can do anything, or at least may have a successful future in sales
**I could get pregnant easily- even without IVF- and if I can do it once, I will do it again

These are all great gifts that I am grateful for having learned. Could I have done without these lessons? Certainly. No doubt about it- lessons I didn't need to learn. I would much rather have a baby and be ignorant regarding any of the above.

The Club No One Wants To Join

Women like me who have had premature preterm rupture of membranes (PPROM) have a cute little name we use- PPROM Queens. It kind of lightens up the reality of what happened. It almost sounds like a sorority except no one ever asked to join it.

I have encountered so many wonderful and caring women since I started this blog- for this I am ever so grateful. I have met women who have had almost the exact thing happen to them (not the puerto rico nightmare, but the PPROM part). I have come to know women who have experienced the many possible things that can sadly cause a pregnancy to end with "fetal demise." I have also met women who had normal pregnancies, only to watch their special babies die days or weeks after birth. No matter when or how it happened, we are bonded together in this surreal space. We are women who all experience that raw feeling- emptiness, dread, longing- and yearning for what might have been.

A woman with a dead baby- we sit together behind a curtain. I never even thought I would be part of this club and didn't really care to peak behind the curtain to see what was there.

I think that the whole topic makes people uncomfortable. What do you say to her? What if I say the wrong thing? Maybe I should leave her alone until she is ready- she knows I am here for her. All these concerns have the opposite effect that was intended. In fact, they actually increase the woman's loneliness and isolation. But even with all the support and love in the world, the road is a lonely one that must be travelled alone. I am on that road now and wonder where it will lead.

I am so open and ready to hear about how others have coped with this kind of loss. What can I do to get out of my own way so that I don't make Sally Ann's memory something that overwhelmingly pains me? I want to be able to think of her and smile, knowing that she gave me the most special of gifts-hope.

What suggestions do you women out there have for me? My enquiring mind wants to know.

Hangover Saturday

Didn't quite feel like myself this morning. Must be the result of the grey goose Friday. My baby dog Lola nudged me a little too early than I wanted to move. Ugh! I found myself off balance and sore as I moved around the house. Nothing a day at the spa couldn't fix.

I had made wax and massage appointments months ago and it couldn't have come at a better time. No fun that my pregnancy massage was changed to a "normal" one, but my massage therapist is top notch and the good part is that I can go for 80 minutes now.

I somehow was able to find the humor in my ignorant waxer's attempt to make me feel better after the "what's new" question was answered in an unexpected fashion. I should have said "nothing" but I was concerned that she might remember that I had been pregnant and ask about it. Now I realize she probably wouldn't have.

Let me see, what was my favorite comment that she made? It was like a parade of all the stupid, insensitive one-liners wrapped up into a one hour session- and I couldn't go anywhere, I was naked from the waist down and only half waxed at the time. For those of you who don't know, please study this and do not use any of these lines in an effort to make me feel better:

--"Well at least you were not farther along or it would have been harder- you could have been more attached." Loss at any time is great. How could I have been any more attached than I was? Sally Ann and the future I dreamed of, snatched in a moment for unexplained reasons. The only response that came to mind was from an old Saturday Night Live Dan Akroyd line, "Jane, you ignorant slut!"

--"You could always have another one." Like that will make it better. Just have another one and you will forget the loss of your child. I worked 3 years for this one.

--"After my baby was born, I had to have a D&C and that hurt too." You have got to be kidding me. How do I even respond to that one? This woman was a teenage, unwed mother who is now in her 20's. She doesn't have a clue and I think silence is in order rather than screaming at her with all my pent up rage. She is only 3/4 of the way through the wax, so I better just keep quiet.

--"Do you want a girl?" Right now I want a live one- that would be good.

--"I don't know if you have read any fertility stuff but" -Let's see: this was only my life's dream since I can remember and I have been trying to conceive since 2005. I think I may have read a thing or two, and met with 3-4 specialists, but why don't you share with me your infinite wisdom.

--"If you have sex 4 days before ovulation, you're more likely to have a girl." I wish these types of issues were my biggst concern.

To add to the mortification I was feeling, I started to bleed in the middle of it. Nice. I keep wondering when the spotting will finally stop- it keeps stopping and then starting again. The waxer was actually tactful about that. She suggested I excuse myself to the bathroom to address it, and I contemplated making a run for it. When I got to the bathroom I realized I had to go back- there was still wax on me and I would have looked a little lopsided. Drats! Back to the stupid whore!

The massage therapist made it all melt away. I could have stayed there forever. I feel great now and the morning is no longer affecting me.

4 weeks to the day that my baby died and I here I am. I read a line in a magazine while at the spa. It seemed particularly poignant. Bad things will happen- that is inevitable. But so will good things. And I get to choose what I will focus on. Today, I'll work on focusing on the good. Wish me luck!

The Wise Ones

When my mother was dying last year, she spoke with a Wise One. She couldn't figure out why this was happening to her. She had stopped smoking over 20 years before and now was lying in a bed with end-stage lung cancer. By most accounts, she was a miracle. She had lived almost 4 years when 50% die in the first year. Only 15%make it 5 years and she wouldn't be one of them.

"There are some questions that have no answers" the Wise One said to her. While it doesn't solve the question, there is something comforting in that statement. She held on to that, as did I, until the day she died.

I found it surreal when I was in the hospital and the resident hospital Wise One came through on his rounds. Actually, I had requested his visit. I talked through my story and my options. He unequivocally said that I had no choice but to induce labor, to choose life and health for myself. He said that the choice had already been made by what had occurred. I broke down crying, not understanding how or why this could have happened. Almost a year to the day my mom died, he uttered those same words.

There are questions that have no answers.

I was reading about a fellow blogger's experience today. She has been such a comfort with her compassionate words and thoughts to me over the last several days. She spoke about what become the milestones of your life- those experiences that forever change you.

Before and after.

I will never be who I was before my baby died. I can't go back to that woman. Since the book of my life is only partially written, I cannot say for sure whether that will be a good or bad thing over time. At the moment it seems like the worst thing possible. Time, however, has a way of changing perspectives on experiences.

This is an unwanted journey and I need to hold on to the faith that I am one step closer to living the life of my dreams.