I saw my wonderful OB on Monday for what was supposed to have been my 8w1d first OB appointment but was instead a discussion on whether to medically terminate pregnancy #9 or have a D&C. She graciously offered to fit me in the following day for a D&C in the OR, and I opted for that. I don't know if getting the genetics on this pregnancy back will help me with healing and moving on, but I figured it cannot hurt. On the off chance this pregnancy was chromosomally aneuploid, that information would help. And if it is euploid again like loss #6, well... more complicated, but more information is more information, and I'm a big information seeker, even if that information is too late to help me. I think. To be honest, I'm not sure, but in case it could help me accept this better, I thought I'd rather know.
The procedure was uncomplicated and straightforward and I had no problems from the anesthesia, so that was good. Strangely I woke up from the procedure physically sick with a head cold that I hadn't had a single symptom of one hour prior, and I've been sick the remainder of the week, with Magpie sick and out of school today as well. It's a real cold, not psychosomatic, but pretty incredible it came on so suddenly and at that specific time.
So I've been at work, and have been somewhat crampy since Tuesday afternoon, and I have a head cold, and I'm dragging a bit and very sad. Some of the dragging is the cold, and I think some of it is that I'm tapering off of prednisone. And my hormones are crashing, so I've been having drenching night sweats as well, which is emotionally painful because it somehow simultaneously makes me think of my upcoming menopause and reminds me of the drenching night sweats I had after I gave birth to Magpie, both of which are hard to think about right now.
Speaking of Magpie, I've been hugging her extra tight and smelling her Magpie smell and rubbing noses with her and giving her butterfly kisses with my eyelashes against her eyelashes (no wonder the poor kid is sick). And she's thrilled I can pick her up ("The doctor says you can hold me again? Really? Oh!!") And it helps. It helps so much that she is here. I think I would be beside myself in grief otherwise, because that's what used to really flatten me, the fear that we would never have a child, never make it out the other side, that our problems were insurmountable. They still seem that way but she is here, and she is so real and present and wonderful and alive and herself. I am so grateful.
But despite that, do you want to know the honest truth? I'm not doing so great over here.
I'm also kicking myself a little while I'm down, questioning why I ever thought I could hold onto a pregnancy and what in the world was I thinking? I'm terminally infertile. How could I not know this? How could I get my hopes up again, even in the limited way I allowed myself to? But of course those thoughts are not helpful, and they are probably not even accurate, although it is hard to tell what is accurate these days.
So that is where things are at today. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Mo
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The procedure was uncomplicated and straightforward and I had no problems from the anesthesia, so that was good. Strangely I woke up from the procedure physically sick with a head cold that I hadn't had a single symptom of one hour prior, and I've been sick the remainder of the week, with Magpie sick and out of school today as well. It's a real cold, not psychosomatic, but pretty incredible it came on so suddenly and at that specific time.
So I've been at work, and have been somewhat crampy since Tuesday afternoon, and I have a head cold, and I'm dragging a bit and very sad. Some of the dragging is the cold, and I think some of it is that I'm tapering off of prednisone. And my hormones are crashing, so I've been having drenching night sweats as well, which is emotionally painful because it somehow simultaneously makes me think of my upcoming menopause and reminds me of the drenching night sweats I had after I gave birth to Magpie, both of which are hard to think about right now.
Speaking of Magpie, I've been hugging her extra tight and smelling her Magpie smell and rubbing noses with her and giving her butterfly kisses with my eyelashes against her eyelashes (no wonder the poor kid is sick). And she's thrilled I can pick her up ("The doctor says you can hold me again? Really? Oh!!") And it helps. It helps so much that she is here. I think I would be beside myself in grief otherwise, because that's what used to really flatten me, the fear that we would never have a child, never make it out the other side, that our problems were insurmountable. They still seem that way but she is here, and she is so real and present and wonderful and alive and herself. I am so grateful.
But despite that, do you want to know the honest truth? I'm not doing so great over here.
I'm also kicking myself a little while I'm down, questioning why I ever thought I could hold onto a pregnancy and what in the world was I thinking? I'm terminally infertile. How could I not know this? How could I get my hopes up again, even in the limited way I allowed myself to? But of course those thoughts are not helpful, and they are probably not even accurate, although it is hard to tell what is accurate these days.
So that is where things are at today. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Mo
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I'm thinking of the support systems they had in the book The Red Tent and how so many of your IF sisters are holding you up emotionally from afar during this very difficult time. If I were anywhere near you, I would (like so many, I bet) hold you up in other ways, as well. A hug, kind words, casseroles and small kindnesses to let you know how much you are cared for, you are held up, you are supported and loved.
ReplyDeleteAbiding...xoxo <3 <3 <3
You let your hopes get up because you DID beat infertility once- you have Magpie. But of course it's hard to think any positive thoughts at this point which is completely understandable. Take care of yourself.
ReplyDeleteOh, Mo - of course you're not doing well. Go easy on yourself. It is a hard thing (and that's an understatement) you have gone through/ are going through.
ReplyDeleteI'm so pleased Magpie is there to cuddle with you.
Big hugs to you xxx
Oh, Mo. I'm so so sorry. I've been there-feeling stupid bc I'd dared to hope. It sucks.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you did the d&c--like you, I'm an as much info as possible person, and I was assured that D&cs would not harm my ability to successfully carry a pregnancy (and they didn't).
Re the cold--well, I had a similar experience--during finals my last semester of law school, I was fine, and then literally an hour after my final final I had this horrible head cold. I recall reading an article the gist of which was people think that their immune system goes down bc of stress but sometimes the opposite is true--it holds on until the stress is relieved and then boom. (Please note I'm NOT comparing a final exam to the loss of a pregnancy or saying your stress is gone. But maybe something similar was at play.)
No words, just virtual hugs❤️
ReplyDeleteSame here, no words..just know we are all here supporting you and wishing you peace. Hugs Mo.
DeleteAdding my voice. Thinking of you.
DeleteOh, Mo, I'm so very sorry. Nothing about this is ok or good. I know how awful everything--except Magpie--is right now. And don't kick yourself over anything about this. It shows what a strong woman you are that you allowed yourself to hope for the best. And if anything about this was even slightly fair, your courage would have been rewarded.
ReplyDeleteI'm so very sorry. More than I can say without cursing to the heavens. Who obviously aren't listening, or this would have been a very different post. I'm so sorry.
I don't know if you remember but I posted that we had the same transfer date. I had a chemical. I was checking in and rooting for you. I am so very sorry. I have only lost 6 pregnancies (3 miscarriages, 1 ectopic, 1 stillborn, 1 chemical). My heart goes out to you.
ReplyDeleteI am so very sorry that you are going through another loss. Even though I've been through this myself there just aren't words to convey my sympathy. Sending you love.
ReplyDeletei was so sad for you, reading those opening 3 paragraphs. So evocative.
ReplyDeletebut then the next paragraph, crying instead for me. and now feeling pretty cruddy, that my empathy disappeared like that.
it's i guess an additional injustice of secondary infertility that sometimes not only do those who haven't experienced infertility not understand, but that sometimes those experiencing primary infertility have ugly and unbecoming reactions.
thank you for sharing your journey.
Mo - I wish I could give you a hug right now too. Please cut yourself some slack (i am the queen of being too hard on myself, so I can definitely relate to the impulse.) You let yourself hope because that's the only way any of us can get through this process. How could anyone inject themselves several times a day with powerful drugs, fly cross country repeatedly, put the rest of their life on hold, without that hope propelling us for a baby - a first, or a sibling - at the other end of the road? IVF is probably the most optimistic thing I've ever done, especially since my experience leading to it was the most crushing grief I've ever had. (i remember the night sweats from after my stillbirth. Ugh. Insult to injury, it seemed at the time.) I'm afraid to hope, but do still hope, for our own Magpie someday. Give yourself the time and space to grieve, and go easy on yourself, as hard it is. We are all here for you. *hugs*
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry. I think your grief is normal -- though awful -- and I think your hope was normal and understandable, too. I mean, you DID find success once. Why can't it happen twice?
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and wishing you comfort and peace.
Many, many hugs. Many hugs.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry that this is how things turned out. It's okay to be sad. You have been through so much.
ReplyDeleteMo, I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteOf course you got your hopes up; you have a Magpie, after all. And there is something differnet about pregnancy loss after live birth...you're losing a potential sibling. I found that to be very difficult, in a way that was very different from loss BEFORE having a child. Not worse, but more tangible because I knew what it meant to be a parent in a concrete way.
It sucks. I hope you can get some answers to use as you move forward. It's early, I know, but if DE is in the cards and you want to talk, feel free to email me?
I'm so sorry you are struggling right now. I wish I could take some of your pain away. Sending you healing vibes. Will keep you in our thoughts and prayers.
ReplyDeleteMo, I just wanted to delurk again (did so once a couple years back) to say how sorry I am. As a 40-something psychologist with 12 failed IVFs and one miracle 5-year-old, I was rooting hard for you. I, too, know that "how could I have gotten my hopes up again" feeling. Infertility sucks. Peace and positive thoughts to you and Will.
ReplyDeleteOh, Mo, I'm sorry. You know I was right there with you, of course ... hoping (and believing) that this might be another lucky (enough) pregnancy. I'm so sorry it wasn't and it's OK to mourn that, really, it is. Well, and now I can advocate margaritas, rather than just page-turners, to distract you. If that's your style, of course.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry. I hope that you have your next baby, you and Will are great people and I hope that you catch a break - you are such loving parents to magpie. Life is so unfair.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry to read this! Actually shocked I was so sure this was it!!
ReplyDeleteMo, you, Will and Magpie continue to be in my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteHang in there Mo! You had hope because your body has done this before! Proof is in your sweet girl. And good for you for facing your fears head on and trying your damnedest for another. You really did all you could. Praying for peace for you and strength as you carry on.
ReplyDeleteYou're right. Losing after the take home baby is both easier and more difficult. Yes you have a child and that is extremely helpful, wonderful and why you want another. The difficult part for me was knowing that this was the end of the road. There would be no more children. My husband is older than me and happy with just one. I'm getting there.
ReplyDeleteOh mo, that is just so heartbreaking. Thinking of you in that state, that awful low grieving place. My heart is with you.
ReplyDeleteSarah from ca
I'm so sad for you. I only had 2 miscarriages but I remember just how crushing each one was, it never gets easier. Hugs from MN.
ReplyDeleteI have nothing to offer, but my sympathy. Sending light and love your way.
ReplyDeleteMelissa in Durham
Hope hurts, but it's what got you Magpie. And it'll get you to the next right place, wherever that turns out to be. I'm sorry, Mo.
ReplyDeleteHUGS. Huge huge huge hugs.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry for your loss. It is an extra kick in the gut to be so reminded of the infertility after a life birth. After the many years, cycles, and miscarriages, we had my first daughter, then we tried for another, we got one, but not before two early miscarriages and a good old BFN. It really sounds like you want another, and no, you are not being greedy (that is your infertility talking). I suggest looking into frozen donor eggs, at place with a long proven track record like RBA in Atlanta. Much faster, high success, and the cost is much lower. Sending prayers and hugs, Lynne
ReplyDeleteBeen thinking of you, Mo. Don't get down on yourself for being hopeful. I was so hopeful for you too. I know the heartache of wanting another child. So glad you have Magpie but I understand how it still hurts. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteBecause it almost worked, and what if it would have worked. And the love. Its the love. Dang. So sorry
ReplyDeleteBecause it almost worked. And what if it would have worked! And the love. Our hearts just can't stay guarded no matter how we want them to. The love, dang, I'm sorry.
ReplyDeletehi mo,
ReplyDeleteI hope you are feeling a tiny bit less horrible today.
I totally understand wanting to know some information that could come from testing the cells from a d&c. why not? why have that wondering and wishing you did it?
good call, in my opinion.
you have to give yourself some slack. its a big loss mo!! its very significant. I am not surprised at all that you feel like you're not doing so good.
what can you do? just feel the pain, feel the crap, feel it all, and cut yourself some slack. you will know when the time is right to revisit all this stuff, or not...
just take the time you need.
you are loved by many! we all wish the best for you and will.
one last thing- stop judging and second guessing yourself!
it gets you nowhere and is so harmful.
try not to do it. its hard, but try not to fall into that trap.
Just thinking of you today.
ReplyDeleteI hope you're feeling at least somewhat better. The end of the embryos created with your and Will's gametes is a big deal. It's not the end of hope for another child, but still... Thinking about you lots! Hugs from us!
ReplyDeleteJust wanted to let you know I am still out here thinking of you. Hope you are able to take gentle care of yourself.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you ... I can't imagine any other response than deep, deep grief, and hope you and Will can take the time and space to sit with that grief.
ReplyDelete