Even more Hallmark rejects

What to send to the friend who has a genetically abnormal miscarriage?

I know, you're stumped, right?

Herewith, the debut of the first and so-far only e-card to acknowledge the chromosomally abnormal miscarriage. Sure to cause dismay to all who receive it.

But hey, at least it is some kind of acknowledgment.

What do you think: send on to Hallmark or keep it under wraps?

Mo

Puppy at 11 weeks

We are convinced she is the most adorable puppy ever. And as you will see, she is growing by leaps and bounds!

With her stuffed red lizard:


Lying on Mo's tummy:


And sleeping with her little lamb:

Ah! Heaven!

A day to remember

The wrong post went up earlier today. It will be re-posted next week at a more appropriate time. Sorry about that. For today, no jokes. Just taking this day to remember the losses so many of us have endured.
As you've no doubt noticed, Will and I have been in a place of late where we have been choosing to laugh instead of cry. We have been making many wry jokes around the house this past month or so and we've introduced the Hallmark rejects cards here on the blog, which we've also found quite entertaining.
But beneath our off-color humor is a deep sadness at the loss of our five pregnancies. A sadness that is with us also, much of the time.

Yesterday I was speaking with my RE about where we might go from here and as we discussed the possibility of PGD, I told him that if the point of a PGD cycle is just to keep me from miscarrying again, then I don't need PGD. That as hard as things have been, I am grateful to have been able to be pregnant each and every time.

Obviously our goal is to have a baby who lives. That is the hope. But maybe Will and I don't get to have that. Maybe all we will ever get to experience is the joy of glimpsing our children a few times on ultrasound, their hearts beating, their limbs moving. If that is all we get, I will accept that. I would rather have the chance to experience our children, even in this small way, and then suffer losing them, than never have them at all. Even if we never get to have a live baby.

So I told the RE that. And he got a little choked up and said that that must be a really hard thing to say. And I guess it is, but it's where we are at.

These pregnancies, these miscarriages, are our children. And I am glad we were able to have them in our lives, even much too briefly.

Thinking of each and every one of you who has lost a pregnancy or infant. Today. And every day. Thoughts especially go out to my Hodgkin's buddy m., Susan, Niki, Echloe, Lisa, MeKate, Alexis, Natalie, NoodleGirl, Megan, Michele, WiseGuy, Michelle, Luna, and Infertile in the City.

Mo

Your endometrium is like a fruit cake...a slightly abnormal fruit cake

I finally connected with my RE to get the results of the endometrial function test.

Apparently, the biopsy results showed mild glandular abnormalities; i.e., the "fruit cake" of my endometrium is not looking quite as it should. Specifically, there was one marker present (cyclin E) that is only supposed to appear during the early secretory phases of the menstrual cycle (days 5-19), but in my endometrium, was present much later, during the time when implantation would occur. Which can negatively impact an embryo taking root.

My RE said the level of the abnormality was "mild" and so he says he is inclined to take the news "with a grain of salt." (Grain of salt on the fruit cake of my endometrium. Me thinks this is too many metaphors!) The cyclin E abnormality could be due to morbid obesity (except that I'm not overweight), or infection (not the case), or endometriosis (hey, I have that!), or stress (that too!). Since I've already had a laparoscopy this year to remove endometriosis, there is really not much else to do on that front. And stress, well...I'll do what I can, but it's ubiquitous, you know?

Bottom line, it's unclear what to make of the results, sigh. But the RE doesn't think we should give up on the old uterus just yet - or at least not because of these results. Again, I'm left wondering a bit why we did this test. But I guess the answer to that is to make sure there were no glaring abnormalites. And there weren't. My fruit cake was only subtly off, not grossly malformed.

So that's, I suppose, good news?

The Yale researcher who does this test has a twitter feed called placenta talk. The intro page has quite the graphics, if you want to click over. Who knew the placenta was, um, actually a little gross?

The immunology results we had drawn from the wizard are still outstanding, so we'll see what further murkiness that adds to the picture in a few weeks.

Meanwhile, Will and I will continue to mull and muse and sit in the trenches processing things. Which these days takes place on a mostly nonverbal level. Which is OK by me. For once, I'm out of logic, out of scientific notions, out of problem-solving ideas. Just plumb run dry of everything. So we're just going to sit here where we are for a bit, until we feel like picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves off, and trying something* again.

Mo

*"something" potentially being high dose IUI, IVF with CGH/microarray, donor egg, or adoption.

Another Hallmark reject*

*Inspired by actual family member comment after miscarriage #1.