Hang onto your hats, folks. This is going to be a long one.
What happened yesterday:
Driving to our clinic we talked again about what whether we thought we were going to receive good news or bad news? We talked about both sides of things, but our conversations definitely were swayed towards thinking that things might work out.
Walking up the steps of the clinic, I asked D when the last time he was there? There's usually no need for him to come with me for my monitoring appointments. He told me that it was probably the last time we got bad news there. That he didn't have a good association with this place because they always give us bad news. I don't totally share the same feeling, I guess it's because my visits have been much more watered down from those bad moments.
As the ultrasound proceeded, I knew almost right away that something was wrong. I kept quiet, hoping I would prove myself wrong. The sac was so big and so glaringly empty. I wanted to give the nurse time to think and look more before saying anything. She scanned back and forth, again and again. I was hoping she would find it. I was hoping that D wouldn't notice right away, but he sensed something was wrong also.
The nurse called for D to get the second, more experienced nurse. She came in, and poked around with the ultrasound wand for a bit. D peppered her with questions which drove me crazy.
"What do you see? Is there anything there? Do you see a heartbeat?" He asked all of the questions that everyone knew the answers too, but noone wanted to say.
There was talk amongst the nurses about the potential of two yolk sacs, which I didn't see. They measured, and then remeasured and then I saw it on the screen. A tiny font with powerful meaning, 6w3d. There was no little flickering bulb. There was nothing.
They rechecked their calculations of how big the fetus was supposed to be based on transfer date and blast stage. D and I both knew there was no point, it should have been 8 weeks, 3 days.
The second nurse interrupted their silence and calculations with a statement that we all knew was coming, "There's a problem. I'm sorry it's not good news. At this stage we should see a little baby. A little face, little arms, cardiac activity".
D went into shock. He put his hands over his head, and said things like "Are you sure, can you check again? How could this happen? There was a heartbeat last week. We took all of the variables out. This was supposed to work." I have never seen such fear or horror on his face, ever. Aside from the emptiness on the screen, it will remain the thing that is burned into my memory the most from this terrible day, I am sure.
I wanted to answer all of his questions, tell him to be quiet, and freak out, all at the same time. But instead, I laid on that table silent. Part of me knew that he had to hear the answers to his questions from a nurse anyways, and I did not have the energy to answer him.
The nurses told us how sorry they were and how they wanted this to work out so badly for us. They hugged me and I started to cry. Abruptly, D said he had to go to washroom to collect himself. I've never seen him do that before, and I was very worried about him, but I was wearing a paper skirt and couldn't do much about it.
Everyone left me in the room to get dressed. A minute later, D opened the door while I was naked from the waist down, standing in front of the door. He entered quickly, and then proceeded to fall down to the floor, resting his head on the chair in the room. It scared the hell out of me.
I was worried about making a scene. How sensitive of me, I know. I told him to calm down, and to sit on the chair while I got dressed.
The nurses ushered us to the office. They had suggested that I call CCRM and see if they wanted any additional blood work done. I knew I would not be able to get the words out. I asked if they would call for me.
For anyone who deals with CCRM, you know that it is a complete annoyance trying to get anyone on the phone from the nursing desk. However, if you call the business office, they will pick up on the first half-ring. Call the nursing line, and you are pretty much just destined to get voicemail. It's why I choose to correspond by email. I can re-read their answers as many times as I need, and there is no phone tag.
I suggested that they call the main line and use the option for another doctor's office calling. I gave them a bunch of CCRM numbers and just hoped they would figure it out, and they did.
While waiting for the call, the nurses were so kind, offering us water and tea and expressing their condolences.
Finally, the emergency line worked, and we got our instructions from CCRM. They wanted me to have progesterone, estrodiol and HCG drawn. (Which by the way came back as 989, 23.6 and 50,125 respectively).
While getting them drawn, the sometimes hot, sometimes cool phebotomist looked at me and told me she was so sorry. Her mascara was making thick black streaks down her face. She gave me a big hug. This made me cry again, this time a little more uncontrollably. My arm shook as she tried to get the needle in. I told her I was sorry that this was a part of her job. She said some nice things to me. I know she went through IVF, and she's drawn my blood for years, and she somewhat gets the pain of the situation.
The nurses were visibly and rightfully worried about us driving home. They encouraged us to stay a while. I think they were especially nervous looking at D, because he was a complete wreck. I was scared looking at him too. The suggested we get lunch somewhere or just stay in the office or the parking lot for a while.
I knew that I was going to have to be our driver, by the state of what he was in. We took a moment in the parking lot, and called D's mom to break the news. I told myself to just block everything out until I got home. Just drive safely and get us home. I knew I'd be ok, as long as we got going right away, and as long as D didn't break down on the way home.
Thankfully, he didn't, because I don't think my heart could have handled anymore.
When we got home, C, my CCRM nurse called. She told me the second worst news that I'd heard all day, that Dr. Schoolcraft "takes these things very seriously and wanted me to repeat the ultrasound in a week to be sure." She told me to stay on all of the same meds. I questioned them twice that day about this. Did they look at the ultrasound report? Did they see how far behind things were? Did they see how empty the sac was? Isn't this just unnecessary torture? Can I go for the second ultrasound sooner? They would not budge from that plan.
After sharing this news with D, I practically threatened him to not get hope because they were saying these things. With our first miscarriage, he held out hope for much longer than was medically advised, and it caused him a lot of pain.
So begrudgingly, this week I will continue my meds. This weekend I will also decide things that nobody should have to decide, like whether I will opt for a D&C vs. a cytotec miscarriage and if we will try to karyotype the fetus. I'm not sure if that's possible, or if the information we would learn from it would help us regardless. Hearing this was a genetically normal little boy or girl would smash my already shattered heart more. I'm not sure I could stand it...
How I spent today:
I spent the morning crying in my bed, and in my closet of all places. I got sick of looking at my depressing self and got dressed (I'm using that term very loosely). D made lunch. It was a warm sunny day outside and he convinced me to go outside with him. I didn't want to, but did it anyways. He and our neighbour moved our swing into the backyard, from its winter hibernation spot. I hid inside while that went on, so he couldn't see my puffy-from-crying face.
Wrapped in a thick blanket, and armed with our phones, I laid on the swing while D played with my hair. It's one of our favourite things to do. Today D was a little more himself, calm and rational. We both are still very, very sad, frustrated and angry. We talked. I had more tears.
I read your messages, and was so grateful once again. It is such a relief to be able to confide in people who have been there, and know pain of infertility and loss. You all give me such strength and a sense of peace in this storm.
Mid-afternoon I made the short trip to a nearby coffee shop and bought my favourite hot drink, which I hadn't had in ages due to my caffeine restriction (1/2 french vanilla cappuccino, 1/2 decaf - yum!). We consumed a large amount of donuts. I'm taking myself off caffeine restrictions whether CCRM likes it or not. Chocolate and coffee are not optional in my life right now.
As far as grieving goes, I know there are bad days in my future, but I think today was a complete success.
On a different note.... In the news:
I've been doing a lot of surfing today. These three things struck my interest, and I thought they might be interesting to you too, if you haven't already come across them.
1. Way to go Ontario, Canada for a big step in the right direction:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/ontario-liberals-set-to-boost-in-vitro-coverage/article17912481/
2. A concerning virus affecting a huge amount of internet passwords:
http://www.cnet.com/news/how-to-protect-yourself-from-the-heartbleed-bug/
3. Aspirin and pregnancy.
http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/275317.php
Friday, 11 April 2014
When your worst nightmare becomes your reality, again, and again
I spent yesterday reading your comments in between sob-fests, pity parties, watching 80 mind numbing cooking shows and shovelling take out food down my throat.
Thank you doesn't even begin to touch on the gratefulness I feel for your generosity of heart. I showed D your comments, and he said, "Wow. Those are some really great people". He's so right. Thank you for your gentle words and helping me keep my head above water.
Later today, I hope to write about what happened during our ultrasound and after, but I need just a little more time to process it all.
Right now, I fear that the depressed/anxious girl that has been living comfortably in my brain for weeks (years?) has now received the fuel she needed to become a full blown, raging control freak. She's yelling "I told you so! This is never going to work, muhahahah! Nana-nana-nana!" At the top of her bitchy high pitched voice.
She was right this time. She won, again. She went up against 6 MOTHER fucking years of research and treatments, too many doctor's appintments to count, enough money to buy a long row of new cars or feed the homeless in my city for a year. And, now, impressively a 21 year old's donor egg and one of the best fertility clinics in the USA. She won. I don't want to even fucking believe it.
Even though I feared this happening from day one, I am somehow still in shock.
I'm not sure how to continue now. I always fought for my body, thinking that it was an embryo quality issue that we had before. However, now something new has been added to the equation. Now I add a beautiful hatching 5AA DE blast to the list of babies that has died in my uterus. No, I don't know that it was chromosomally normal. And maybe even if it was, it would have died. I don't know what to think.
Right now I just feel stupid for having chased this dream for this long. Maybe I should have seen the writing on the wall a long time ago. Maybe I should have listened to that little voice in my head.
Right now I just feel stupid for having chased this dream for this long. Maybe I should have seen the writing on the wall a long time ago. Maybe I should have listened to that little voice in my head.
If there's one thing I've learned about grief and coping with loss, it's that today no decisions need to be made. Today is about eating, sleeping and just getting through the day.
Why couldn't this have just worked for once?
Thursday, 10 April 2014
The horror show continues...
No heartbeat and the baby only measured 6 weeks 3 days, should have measured 8 weeks 3 days.
Fuck.
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
Once an infertile, always an infertile? Med problems and 8 week symptoms
The past few days, I have had a bunch of random thoughts swirling about my head... so out they come.
Once an infertile always an infertile?
I found coming up with a name for this blog tricky. Finding A Way Out Of IF seemed like a fit because it was what I was trying to do, on a couple of different levels. At the time, my main goal in life was to get out of infertility. As in have a baby or two, then tell infertility to f-off, close the door on it and never look back. I also wanted to stop living in the teeter-totter of infertile life of 'what if' start living in the more now.
What occurs to me now, is that even if I'm lucky enough to end up with a real, live baby after all of this, I'm still going to be majorly infertile. There won't be a way out of IF for us. With our types of infertility (DOR & severe male factor), our diagnoses are not going to get better. I am always going to be infertile.
Emotionally, I feel like I'm always going to be infertile too. During a heart to heart with the woman who donated her embryos to us, I told her that a few years ago. At that time, I was mourning that I would probably never go to a baby shower and feel happy, or be able to casually talk about pregnancy in a way that other fertiles do. She had been through hell to get her family; 5 years of treatments, 7+ surgeries, 5 miscarriages, and ultimately had her children through adoption and surrogacy. She told me that the burden would become lighter. That she never thought it would either, but it happens, there will be days and weeks that pass that you don't think about it.
I hold on to the hope that I may get to that place that she describes. Right now, I feel like the heartache of the last 6 years isn't something that is going to leave me easily. While I hope to always sensitive to other's people's feelings, and remember to count my blessings, I could really do without the daily reminders of our infertility.
I can see a small fraction of this burden lifting lately, and it's been giving me hope. I can look at baby things and pregnant mothers, and hear stories about friend's children without wanting to burst into tears. It's a start, and I'm grateful for this little bit of relief.
Controlling how I think of the 'what ifs' has not been my strong suit. I'm a worrier, and so is hubby. And right now, even as we are letting ourselves imagine the possibility that we're pregnant, that we could be on our way to a real live baby, we're caught deeply again in this trap. I need to do a lot more work on this one.
I've been hung up on thinking about the what ifs of this pregnancy and the possibility of miscarriage. How would we handle it...again? I've been trying not to let myself slip into the what ifs of still birth and infant loss, but with the loss of our friend's child that sneaks into my mind too. I'm ready for this part of the infertility burden to lighten too.
[By the way - Thank you very much by the way for the resource suggestions for my grieving friend. I've passed some websites etc. on to them. I'm hoping that they will be a little help to them during this difficult time.]
Ultrasound anxiety
Tomorrow, I'm having another ultrasound. It will be at my satellite clinic. My anxiety is definitely rising thinking about this appointment, but I'm hoping it will all go smoothly. Another positive result will be a huge step for us.
Rolling around in the back of my mind however, is something I remembered that the ultrasound tech said last week. She told me the embryo was measuring 5 weeks -something. I didn't think much of it because a) There was a lot going on and I was trying to keep from fully losing my composure and b) I thought it was maybe because of the the 2 weeks that get added onto gestation from the beginning of the cycle. (It's still weird to me to consider someone 8 weeks pregnant when it's only been six weeks since the embryo was made. But, I digress).
When I visited with Dr. Highrisk, after the ultrasound, he reviewed the notes, the day of our transfer and we told him it was a 5 day old embryo. He said everything looked good, and on schedule. That the amount of amniotic fluid looked good. What he said put my mind at ease, that day. However recently, my nurse said she was confused by what she had been sent by the doctor's office. Why she didn't tell me this right away, I don't know?!? But she said that the measurements seemed weird to her (my words, not hers), and she reminded me to tell them the day of the embryo transfer and that it was a day 5 embryo, (which I had done) that otherwise the dating would be way off.
Calming my mind a little bit on the subject, is the fact that the baby would have been slightly bigger than a grain of rice at that ultrasound. And that the ultrasound machine being used was ancient. This is also why tomorrow's ultrasound will bring clarity. Hopefully it will calm this infertile brain just a little more.
Med problems
Something else also is annoying me. While trying to be on top of things, I emailed my nurse and I told her I needed to order more meds. I sent her a list of what I had left. Because of the weaning process I am not sure of how much more I will need. I don't know the plan yet, despite asking for more information twice. She answers me, but not in the detail that I would like. Her response to me was to wait until the next ultrasound and we would go from there.
My anxious brain says; "Why? Because there's something more seriously wrong with the measurements from my last ultrasound and you aren't telling me because you don't want me to worry? Too late. Is it because you don't want me to waste money on more meds? Or are you going to wean me that quickly that I don't need hardly any more? I sure hope not. Sh*t". Then it says, "You'd be able to use those meds anyways for your next transfer if this doesn't work out, just order them" and "Sometimes I hate being in my own brain".
I examined my stock of meds, in more detail and I believe that the CCRM nurse messed up. This is because I think she was not considering that I can not just go get more meds at the drop of a hat. I use an online pharmacy and get the meds delivered to my clinic (it's a long story, but I can't easily get them delivered to my home). Given that it takes the meds two days to ship and then the clinic would be closed for the weekend, I would be out of one med by mid-Sunday if my doses stayed the same. I know my meds aren't likely going to stay the same, but I have no idea of how much they are going to change either. I don't like cutting things that close. Anxiety girl does not need any more reasons to be anxious than what she already has.
To fix the problem, I emailed my satellite nurse and asked her if she had any samples that I could borrow or have from her supply that I could pick up tomorrow? I could replace them from my next order if needed. She thankfully responded quickly that she'll give me a box. Ah. Relief.
Talking about pregnancy
Finally, I do feel some hesitation about writing here about any pregnancy related updates despite how supportive you have all been. I know you are all adults who can control what you consume. I want those of you who are struggling to get and stay pregnant to know that I think of you often, and especially as I write updates about being pregnant.
I want to remember this pregnancy and to continue to be real about what I'm feeling in my little corner of the internet. So, I'm going to continue to write about what's on my mind. I hope that you find the strength to look away if you're not in a good place to read about it. I will try to give my posts titles that will help you to decide to read or not.
I guess that is my disclaimer for the future. I suppose I'm trying to give myself permission to continue to write things here and not feel guilty about it.
Here's how I feel today, at 8 weeks, 2 days pregnant.
Once an infertile always an infertile?
I found coming up with a name for this blog tricky. Finding A Way Out Of IF seemed like a fit because it was what I was trying to do, on a couple of different levels. At the time, my main goal in life was to get out of infertility. As in have a baby or two, then tell infertility to f-off, close the door on it and never look back. I also wanted to stop living in the teeter-totter of infertile life of 'what if' start living in the more now.
What occurs to me now, is that even if I'm lucky enough to end up with a real, live baby after all of this, I'm still going to be majorly infertile. There won't be a way out of IF for us. With our types of infertility (DOR & severe male factor), our diagnoses are not going to get better. I am always going to be infertile.
Emotionally, I feel like I'm always going to be infertile too. During a heart to heart with the woman who donated her embryos to us, I told her that a few years ago. At that time, I was mourning that I would probably never go to a baby shower and feel happy, or be able to casually talk about pregnancy in a way that other fertiles do. She had been through hell to get her family; 5 years of treatments, 7+ surgeries, 5 miscarriages, and ultimately had her children through adoption and surrogacy. She told me that the burden would become lighter. That she never thought it would either, but it happens, there will be days and weeks that pass that you don't think about it.
I hold on to the hope that I may get to that place that she describes. Right now, I feel like the heartache of the last 6 years isn't something that is going to leave me easily. While I hope to always sensitive to other's people's feelings, and remember to count my blessings, I could really do without the daily reminders of our infertility.
I can see a small fraction of this burden lifting lately, and it's been giving me hope. I can look at baby things and pregnant mothers, and hear stories about friend's children without wanting to burst into tears. It's a start, and I'm grateful for this little bit of relief.
Controlling how I think of the 'what ifs' has not been my strong suit. I'm a worrier, and so is hubby. And right now, even as we are letting ourselves imagine the possibility that we're pregnant, that we could be on our way to a real live baby, we're caught deeply again in this trap. I need to do a lot more work on this one.
I've been hung up on thinking about the what ifs of this pregnancy and the possibility of miscarriage. How would we handle it...again? I've been trying not to let myself slip into the what ifs of still birth and infant loss, but with the loss of our friend's child that sneaks into my mind too. I'm ready for this part of the infertility burden to lighten too.
[By the way - Thank you very much by the way for the resource suggestions for my grieving friend. I've passed some websites etc. on to them. I'm hoping that they will be a little help to them during this difficult time.]
Ultrasound anxiety
Tomorrow, I'm having another ultrasound. It will be at my satellite clinic. My anxiety is definitely rising thinking about this appointment, but I'm hoping it will all go smoothly. Another positive result will be a huge step for us.
Rolling around in the back of my mind however, is something I remembered that the ultrasound tech said last week. She told me the embryo was measuring 5 weeks -something. I didn't think much of it because a) There was a lot going on and I was trying to keep from fully losing my composure and b) I thought it was maybe because of the the 2 weeks that get added onto gestation from the beginning of the cycle. (It's still weird to me to consider someone 8 weeks pregnant when it's only been six weeks since the embryo was made. But, I digress).
When I visited with Dr. Highrisk, after the ultrasound, he reviewed the notes, the day of our transfer and we told him it was a 5 day old embryo. He said everything looked good, and on schedule. That the amount of amniotic fluid looked good. What he said put my mind at ease, that day. However recently, my nurse said she was confused by what she had been sent by the doctor's office. Why she didn't tell me this right away, I don't know?!? But she said that the measurements seemed weird to her (my words, not hers), and she reminded me to tell them the day of the embryo transfer and that it was a day 5 embryo, (which I had done) that otherwise the dating would be way off.
Calming my mind a little bit on the subject, is the fact that the baby would have been slightly bigger than a grain of rice at that ultrasound. And that the ultrasound machine being used was ancient. This is also why tomorrow's ultrasound will bring clarity. Hopefully it will calm this infertile brain just a little more.
Med problems
Something else also is annoying me. While trying to be on top of things, I emailed my nurse and I told her I needed to order more meds. I sent her a list of what I had left. Because of the weaning process I am not sure of how much more I will need. I don't know the plan yet, despite asking for more information twice. She answers me, but not in the detail that I would like. Her response to me was to wait until the next ultrasound and we would go from there.
My anxious brain says; "Why? Because there's something more seriously wrong with the measurements from my last ultrasound and you aren't telling me because you don't want me to worry? Too late. Is it because you don't want me to waste money on more meds? Or are you going to wean me that quickly that I don't need hardly any more? I sure hope not. Sh*t". Then it says, "You'd be able to use those meds anyways for your next transfer if this doesn't work out, just order them" and "Sometimes I hate being in my own brain".
I examined my stock of meds, in more detail and I believe that the CCRM nurse messed up. This is because I think she was not considering that I can not just go get more meds at the drop of a hat. I use an online pharmacy and get the meds delivered to my clinic (it's a long story, but I can't easily get them delivered to my home). Given that it takes the meds two days to ship and then the clinic would be closed for the weekend, I would be out of one med by mid-Sunday if my doses stayed the same. I know my meds aren't likely going to stay the same, but I have no idea of how much they are going to change either. I don't like cutting things that close. Anxiety girl does not need any more reasons to be anxious than what she already has.
To fix the problem, I emailed my satellite nurse and asked her if she had any samples that I could borrow or have from her supply that I could pick up tomorrow? I could replace them from my next order if needed. She thankfully responded quickly that she'll give me a box. Ah. Relief.
Talking about pregnancy
Finally, I do feel some hesitation about writing here about any pregnancy related updates despite how supportive you have all been. I know you are all adults who can control what you consume. I want those of you who are struggling to get and stay pregnant to know that I think of you often, and especially as I write updates about being pregnant.
I want to remember this pregnancy and to continue to be real about what I'm feeling in my little corner of the internet. So, I'm going to continue to write about what's on my mind. I hope that you find the strength to look away if you're not in a good place to read about it. I will try to give my posts titles that will help you to decide to read or not.
I guess that is my disclaimer for the future. I suppose I'm trying to give myself permission to continue to write things here and not feel guilty about it.
Here's how I feel today, at 8 weeks, 2 days pregnant.
- Anxious brain. Check, check, and check.
- Fatigue, check. But less so. When it hits, it comes on strong. I feel like I could take a nap on the curb at the grocery store if I had a pillow and the urge hit me.
- My breasts are slightly tender, but nothing major.
- I am noticing a correlation between when I would normally start to feel hungry and when I start to feel repulsed by food. When this happens, if I eat something right away it usually makes the feeling pass. Today I discovered that a sucking on a hard candy helps. I'm going to be getting a stash of candies. I'm thankful I haven't barfed at all.
- Normally, I love fresh foods and spending time in the kitchen. I usually prefer the taste of less processed foods, and I enjoy putting the effort to prepare them. It is strange to me that my appetite is way down and fresh foods are sometimes tasting rotten to me. It's weird, even the freshest fruit or veggies can have an off flavour to me. I think this is why I'm craving more processed foods. They always taste the same. They don't ever taste rotten. It's not exactly how I hoped to eat if I was pregnant. At least my morning smoothie is still going down, that I make with with spinach, frozen fruit and greek yogurt.
- I think I generally look the same, and I weigh the same. Wearing pants that are tighter around my waist bothers me more than it ever did, but I don't think it's because my stomach has grown. It's more like a sensitivity. Yoga pants, tights and long tops have been my friend all winter and will continue to be.
Monday, 7 April 2014
A friend's infant died
One of my hubby's friends just lost a baby soon after it was born.
Our hearts are so heavy for them right now. This is the fourth baby that has been born still or died shortly after birth that we have known.
I would like to support them by sending them some online resources. I don't know them well enough to do much else. I was wondering if any of you have suggestions?
Our hearts are so heavy for them right now. This is the fourth baby that has been born still or died shortly after birth that we have known.
I would like to support them by sending them some online resources. I don't know them well enough to do much else. I was wondering if any of you have suggestions?
Thursday, 3 April 2014
First ultrasound, 7 weeks, 3 days
I had the ultrasound done at a hospital, where Dr. Highrisk is located. I was worried about the technician not telling us right away what she saw. However, when I was called back, we immediately had new problem. They wouldn't let D come with me. I practically begged for them to let him come with me, saying that we'd had 6 years of infertility hell and losses and I needed him there. After asking the two different people that were helping me, both told me no, that it was "hospital policy". I hate when people say "it's our policy". When I was in the financial industry, I was trained that saying that to a client without further explanation equated giving someone the finger. Surely this was a reason to make an exception? Unfortunately, they didn't think so.
So instead, I braced myself to be alone.
Right then, I'd wished I'd just went to our satellite clinic. That would have never happened.
D said later that it felt like an eternity in the waiting room. He said all he could think about was what he would say to me if there was no heartbeat.
When the nurse left me to get ready for the ultrasound, I decided I would try to help myself by slightly tilting her screen towards me, allowing me to see if I laid a little lower on the table.
As I was waiting, I thought to myself, "if there was ever a time for me to have a panic attack, this would be it". My anxiety was through the roof.
The first thing she did when she came on was move the entire machine forward, so she could work, essentially making the screen completely out of my view.
I decided I would stare intently at her face. I wanted to see if her expression would give anything away. It didn't. Then, she broke her silence and smiled and said that she saw the flicker of the heart, and then turned the screen towards me. I'm not a public cryer, but tears started to flow down the sides of my cheeks.
Relief.
There was a heartbeat!!!
90 BPM and the baby and sac measured normally. I can't remember what the measurements were because I was in shock, crying and trying not to break into a complete hysteria.
She asked me what Daddy's name was and she said she would go get him. She said Daddy! My heart melted a little more and more tears came.
When she called for him in the waiting room, he said that he thought it was bad news and that I was a hysterical mess and they needed him to calm me down.
I knew he would think it was bad news, so the first thing I said to him was "It's ok. There's a heartbeat." And then she showed him too.
At first I was worried about the fuzziness of the blob, but then I realized that the ultrasound machine they were using was not as advanced as I'm what I am used to. The image was much less clear than our satellite clinic's, and way less clear than CCRM's.
After, we had a regroup with the doctor. He was certainly not Mr. Personality. I'm not sure what to make of him. He didn't ask for a history, more than what the nurse took earlier. He didn't have much to say, he just answered our questions. When he answered us, he mostly just stared down at the papers in front of him.
When I asked him about weaning off my Lovenox and Aspirin, he didn't really have an opinion. I was surprised. He said there are no known risks to the baby and that it probably wouldn't hurt me to stay on it. I feel that I am only taking it because of a) my sister's stroke and b) because I'm on tons of hormones. Once I am weaned off the hormones, I may decide to stop taking it. He says there's no weaning, that I can just stop it cold turkey if I want to.
He said he usually only sees people after four weeks when they are this early, but he kindly offered that if we wanted to come in more often, and it would help us be less anxious that he would see us in two weeks instead. He said he would do the ultrasound himself. We jumped on that opportunity. Four weeks would seem like an eternity.
We're just letting this all sink in now. This is new territory for us. We've never been here before. Never had a heartbeat. We're feeling so very grateful and relieved. This might really be it.
So instead, I braced myself to be alone.
Right then, I'd wished I'd just went to our satellite clinic. That would have never happened.
D said later that it felt like an eternity in the waiting room. He said all he could think about was what he would say to me if there was no heartbeat.
When the nurse left me to get ready for the ultrasound, I decided I would try to help myself by slightly tilting her screen towards me, allowing me to see if I laid a little lower on the table.
As I was waiting, I thought to myself, "if there was ever a time for me to have a panic attack, this would be it". My anxiety was through the roof.
The first thing she did when she came on was move the entire machine forward, so she could work, essentially making the screen completely out of my view.
I decided I would stare intently at her face. I wanted to see if her expression would give anything away. It didn't. Then, she broke her silence and smiled and said that she saw the flicker of the heart, and then turned the screen towards me. I'm not a public cryer, but tears started to flow down the sides of my cheeks.
Relief.
There was a heartbeat!!!
90 BPM and the baby and sac measured normally. I can't remember what the measurements were because I was in shock, crying and trying not to break into a complete hysteria.
She asked me what Daddy's name was and she said she would go get him. She said Daddy! My heart melted a little more and more tears came.
When she called for him in the waiting room, he said that he thought it was bad news and that I was a hysterical mess and they needed him to calm me down.
I knew he would think it was bad news, so the first thing I said to him was "It's ok. There's a heartbeat." And then she showed him too.
At first I was worried about the fuzziness of the blob, but then I realized that the ultrasound machine they were using was not as advanced as I'm what I am used to. The image was much less clear than our satellite clinic's, and way less clear than CCRM's.
After, we had a regroup with the doctor. He was certainly not Mr. Personality. I'm not sure what to make of him. He didn't ask for a history, more than what the nurse took earlier. He didn't have much to say, he just answered our questions. When he answered us, he mostly just stared down at the papers in front of him.
When I asked him about weaning off my Lovenox and Aspirin, he didn't really have an opinion. I was surprised. He said there are no known risks to the baby and that it probably wouldn't hurt me to stay on it. I feel that I am only taking it because of a) my sister's stroke and b) because I'm on tons of hormones. Once I am weaned off the hormones, I may decide to stop taking it. He says there's no weaning, that I can just stop it cold turkey if I want to.
He said he usually only sees people after four weeks when they are this early, but he kindly offered that if we wanted to come in more often, and it would help us be less anxious that he would see us in two weeks instead. He said he would do the ultrasound himself. We jumped on that opportunity. Four weeks would seem like an eternity.
We're just letting this all sink in now. This is new territory for us. We've never been here before. Never had a heartbeat. We're feeling so very grateful and relieved. This might really be it.
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Taxes, PTSD infertiles and spring
Item - I compiled our 2013 medical expenses for our income tax last year. We spent more last year on fertility than we ever had. And that didn't include our DE cycle that started in early 2014. While I am truly grateful to have had the money to put towards this, I still can't help but gag. Oh, the things I could have done with that money...
Item - I've learned a few things over the past 6 years of compiling these expenses and I thought I would share three tricks that have made things much easier for me.
- Throughout the year I put all of the receipts I get in one folder in the office. I never look at it until income tax time to avoid unnecessary stress.
- I request an itemized receipt from all clinics and pharmacies for the year. I make sure my receipts match what is is my folder.
- I look out for things that are billed separately. A couple of times I have found things that were missing on my receipts. They were for anesthesia (because it is billed to another doctor) and treatments that were under D's name. [This year, CCRM sent me two annual statements at my request, one from the lab and one from the clinic. They missed sending me $4,000 of expenses that were under his name! Kind of a big boo boo in my books].
Item - Tomorrow is my ultrasound at 7:30am. I will be 7 weeks, 3 days. I could honestly write (and complain endlessly until I want to hit myself upside the head) about the stupid thoughts that are going through my head every day, but I've been trying to distract myself.
Item - Tonight I am going going to prepare a bunch of questions for the doctor tonight under the headings "heartbeat" and "no heartbeat" for Dr. Highrisk. I've got it on my mind that I especially want to get off at least some of these blood thinners, if there's a heartbeat.
Item - If there is no heartbeat, Hubs already told me that he want's to wait longer before we do a D&C than we did the last time. Yes, these are the types of conversations that two incredibly anxious, borderline PTSD infertiles talk about at dinner even after they've got their BFP. He still things there could have been a chance that that the babies could have lived. I don't share those regrets. There was nothing in the sacs, and the sacs were measuring behind. This is his biggest regret of all of our infertility stuff so far. He thinks we may have killed our babies. It's a heavy burden for him.
Item - I am going to the dentist today. I will need to tell them I am pregnant. I have been there when I was 7 weeks pregnant before, with the twins. I'm dreading this conversation, I should have probably rescheduled the appointment until after the ultrasound, but if there is no heartbeat, I doubt I'll feel like doing anything at all, so I kept it.
Item - Yesterday it was so amazingly spring-like out side and it felt so amazing! I am loving this spring more than I ever have before. Buh-bye winter, I am so over you. I went shopping (didn't buy anything) and had a nice day. While out and about I had a little talk with myself about how I need to lighten up. I am always so serious, and I never used to be like that. It is not unrelated that I then said "F-it" to the no caffeine restriction and ate a chocolate ice-cream cone. It was amazing and I don't feel the least bit bad.
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