Sucky September Part I

Part I

To follow up on my last post, the second IUI did work.  Doug and I finally conceived.  We went back to the fertility clinic at 6 weeks (4 weeks after the IUI) and we got to see a heartbeat and a litty bitty spec they said was the fetus.  Needless to say, we were ecstatic.  After trying for so long, it was finally our turn.  At this point I had to find an OB/GYN to go to, so I called the local hospital (that I wanted to deliver at) and asked them for some names of doctors.  I found one, and made an appointment at about my 9 week mark.  Things were going good, I was nauseous and tired but that was the worst of it.

I went to my OB/GYN on Sept. 5th, for my first appointment.  We got to the point of the ultrasound, and that's when things took a turn for the worse.  The doctor was really quiet, but I could feel her moving the ultrasound thing all around so I wondered why it was taking her so long to find it.  After a minute or so she told me she couldn't find a heartbeat.  The baby measured 8 weeks 6 days, which is exactly where it should be.  But there was no heartbeat at all.  She told me she wanted to get a second opinion, just to be sure.  So she ordered an ultrasound from the hospital's imaging center that I went to the following day.  The diagnosis was the same.  Baby was 8 weeks 6 days, but no heart tone and no flutter where a heart should be.  The term is "missed miscarriage."

The doctor said we basically had 3 options.  

1.  Wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally.  It could take days or weeks for my body to realize the fetus is no longer viable, and it would abort on its own.

2.  Take a medication that induces contractions and forces the body to shed the uterine lining.

3.  Surgically remove the tissue with a D&C (dilation and curettage).

After getting the news, Doug and I were in complete shock.  We held out a little hope that maybe the machines just weren't picking it up, since it measured the right size.  We decided to wait a week and go back to check again.  So I made another appointment on Sept. 13th with my OB/GYN to do another ultrasound.  We figured that would give it a week to happen naturally (which was the option we were most in favor of).  When we went in for the next appointment, the tissue had already started to break down.  The baby was less formed and it was clear that it was really gone.

I decided that I didn't want to keep waiting.  I hated having this dead thing inside me, and not knowing when it would happen.  I still didn't want to do the D&C since there is a chance of scar tissue forming, making it harder to get pregnant in the future, and since my cervix has never been stretched out, the procedure could cause an incompetent cervix with future pregnancies.  I decided to take the medication.  The doctor said it would cause contractions about 4 hours after taking it.  I would take two doses of 800 mg 12 hours apart.  

I took the first dose on Sunday Sept. 15th and sure enough, 4 hours later it had kicked in, but not with contractions.  The drug is called Cytotec and its main use is to treat stomach ulcers, when taken at a low dose.  At higher doses it causes contractions in the uterus, leading to abortion if you're pregnant.  I read through the paperwork the pharmacy gave with the prescription to see what side effects there could be.  A major side effect is nausea and diarrhea.  And that's what I got.  It felt like having food poisoning.  I was miserable.  It started to wear off at about the 8 hour mark after taking the first dose.  I dreaded having to take it again in another 4 hours.  I started bleeding a little bit, but only enough to be considered "spotting".  By Tuesday, the spotting had almost stopped and I knew this dose didn't work.  I called my doctor, and she called in another dose to my pharmacy to have me take again on Wednesday.  Oh joy.  I took it again on Wednesday with the same results, no contractions, just food poisoning-like sickness.  By this time, I had had it.  Enough is enough.

I called my doctor again and we scheduled a D&C for Monday Sept. 22nd.  My mom took me to the hospital early that morning.  The worst part was getting the IV in my wrist.  Since I couldn't eat or drink anything from the night before, I was clearly dehydrated and they had a hard time finding a vein.  They put me under general anesthesia so it was just like taking a nap, except when I woke up I was very nauseous.  I guess I don't do well with anesthesia.  The doctor told my mom that there was a lot more tissue than she had expected, and I lost quite a bit of blood.  I can only imagine my face looked like a ghost, since I'm pale anyways blood loss and nausea really gave me that Snow White complexion - minus the ruby red lips, since mine where white as well.

Typically they have you stay in post-op for about an hour, where they give you juice and cookies (Lorna Doone - yum).  I really wasn't doing well, I didn't want to eat or drink anything.  They gave me a pill for the nausea about an hour in to the wait, and I went home about an hour and a half after that.  I spent the rest of the day on the couch, grateful that my mom is so sweet to wait on me and take care of me until Doug got home.  

I've felt the effects of the surgery, and up until today I haven't left the house or really gotten out of bed.  It left me feeling really weak, tired, and lightheaded.  Oh, and now I'm feeling the contractions/cramps if I forget to take pain medication.  I won't go into detail, but they didn't warn me of the nastiness post-D&C, eww.  I guess I can have spotting/bleeding for 5 days to 2 weeks after the surgery.  Then my normal period will probably be late, since I have to grow a brand new lining before I can shed it again.  The doctors have said we need to wait at least 3 cycles before trying to get pregnant again.  I'm grateful this part is finally done.  It's taken almost a month since the time we found out the baby was gone, and that whole time we were in a state of limbo because we couldn't move on just yet.  We're taking a vacation back to San Diego next week, and I think that will be a good fresh start to move forward.

Sucky September Part II

Part II

This post is just me whining and complaining about Part I.  I won't feel bad if this never gets read, but I'm hoping it will be a cathartic experience just to write it all down.

Since the beginning of the month, when we found out the baby was gone, a lot of emotions have surfaced.  Grief, denial, embarrassment, worry, doubt, anger, and a host of others.  The biggest question is "Why"?  Why, after all it took to even get pregnant did this happen to us?  Only about 20% of medically recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage (more happen earlier, but happen so close to the time of a normal period, most people don't even know).  Based on my age and health, I only had about a 10-15% chance of miscarriage.  That means even worst case scenario, I had an 80% of a full term pregnancy.  About 1 in 5 couples suffer from infertility.  About 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage. Fate dealt us a bad hand.

I feel defeated.  I feel foolish for getting so excited.  Going through the infertility process tested what little faith I had.  This blow has effectively shattered it.  How can a God who bases His church on family and places so much emphasis on children, make it so difficult?  Women in The Church are raised to believe that motherhood is what we need to strive for.  It's ingrained as our identity.  Men have the priesthood, women can become mothers.  So not having children = no purpose or identity as a woman?  Why is this one, most basic thing being denied?

We had it, we were there, and He took it away.  I had no control over the chromosomal makeup of the child, but He did.  He could have let us conceive a normal child that would have made it, but instead we get the short-end of the stick, again.  There is nothing physically wrong with Doug or me, no medical reason we shouldn't already have two kids.  What more can we do?  We have done everything we can, it's in His hands.  And this is how He takes care of us.  Blessing in disguise?  It sounds like an overused cliche by now.  Can't I just get a blessing that looks, feels, and acts like a blessing?

I hate that people say, "You're young, you have plenty of time."  Or, "I know someone that has had multiple miscarriages, and it took them 8 years to have a baby.  So it could be worse."  I don't mean to downgrade other's trials, but just because someone else may have "had it harder" doesn't make my pain any less real.  My suffering any more bearable.  I'm ready to throw in the towel, waive the white flag, and admit defeat.  I don't want to "try" anymore.  If we got pregnant again, I'd be even more paranoid about miscarriage, and if it happened again the pain would be double.  It hurts less to be steadily sad, than to get excited and then have the drop of disappointment.  I'm done with the roller coaster of emotions.  If I just accept that having kids won't be a part of our family, I can move on and focus on other things.  I can get a career, and work in a job that makes me happy instead of working just to earn money.  We can plan trips to travel the world without worrying about making plans too far in advance and having to cancel because I'm pregnant.

I also hate the ambiguity of mourning a miscarriage.  Most people won't even know it happened, but you're dying inside.  You have to go on with life, and act like nothing happened unless you want to tell everyone you come in contact with about it.  The pregnancy wasn't something tangible, it was a line on a pee stick and a picture on a screen.  But the loss feels just as real as someone stealing our baby.  There are people all around you who continue to have normal pregnancies, and you have to smile and congratulate them.  Some of them know how lucky they are, others can't even fathom it.

I'm going to whip out my 5 year old vocabulary: Life is so unfair.  So much injustice, and I'm supposed to turn my frown upside down.  Grin and bear it.  Find a positive side.  Take this trial and become stronger from it.  Pray for comfort, since I can't pray to have my baby back I have to pray "for the strength to overcome."  Maybe one day I will, but that day is not today. <insert Lord of the Rings meme here>.  I'm bitter and angry, but those emotions fuel me so I have the strength to get out of bed in the morning.  I know I can't hold on to these feelings forever, it would drive a person mad.  But right now, it's all I can muster up.