Don't indict my uterus! Regroup with Dr. Schl.

Talked to Dr. Schl. today for a regroup appointment post-miscarriage. He said that it will be interesting to see if the baby was chromosomally normal or not once the cytogenetics come back from the D&C...um, yeah. I'd say it'll be interesting... he also reminded me that our microarray tests had a quoted 90% accuracy rate. He says that if the genetics come back normal, that would "change (my) history and complicate the picture but wouldn't necessarily indict (my) uterus." He says many women have one unexplained miscarriage. Most of my other losses were confirmed chromosomally abnormal (in fact, every one that we have had tested).

As for next steps, he said he would stick with the FET protocol and give it another go. He also said that it would be ok by him if we wanted to use a gestational carrier. And that he would even allow us to simultaneously transfer to me and to a carrier at the same time so that we could have a greater chance of success and also get through our embryos faster in case there is some other subtle abnormality that keeps them from making live babies.

One major plus, he said no more evil depot lupron needed until 6 months pass from the D&C. Phew. That stuff was terrible for me. The only other thing we need is a hysteroscopy to check that my uterus is scar-free and baby-free post D&C, and he said we could have our local RE here do that.

So lots to think about. Wish we weren't in this position at all. Not sure what we'll do next but good to get as much information as possible before we go forward.

Still hanging in there with the family emergency. Still completely terrible. Still hanging on to knowing that this can't last forever.

Mo

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When it rains, it pours

Sorry for my absence. And thank you for all of your thoughts and support. Honestly have been without words.

I don't know how to describe the feeling of losing our sixth pregnancy. Don't even know how to process the loss internally, let alone convey it in language.

And then.

Five days after the D&C, we were rocked by another blow, another devastation. An enormous family emergency. Too personal, even on an anonymous blog, to write about, but horrendous.

This emergency is continuing to unfold. And I am still reeling from it. This one is big enough that it has disrupted grieving the miscarriage, superceded it, at least for now. And I am left gasping.

I do not know how I will get through both of these tremendous losses. Especially coming at the same time.

At the moment I am just hanging on for dear life and telling myself that things can't continue to feel like this forever.

Surely, they must get better.

Surely.

Mo

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7w3d ultrasound: it's over

Went to the RE, who didn't like what he saw and sent us on to a radiologist who specializes in OB at the hospital.

Just to confirm.

Both saw debris in the gestational sac. No yolk sac. Small subchorionic hemorrhage. No fetal pole, let alone heartbeat. Not sure what to think of Monday's reassurance ultrasound.

But it's clear now.

Pregnancy #6 is over.

They are adding me to the OR schedule for today.

Will and I can't believe it. We thought this one might be the one that made it.

Walking between the two doctors' office buildings, I thought, Maybe I haven't woken up yet. Maybe this is a bad dream.

But it's not. It's happening again.

Mo

*****

Update: Surgery rescheduled for tomorrow. I forgot completely that I'm on lovenox and aspirin. My RE wants to wait 24 hours for the lovenox to get out of my system and will fit me in tomorrow afternoon for the procedure.

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Q: What does a beta of 12,691 look like on an HPT?

I know you've been wondering. Just what does a beta of 12,691 look like on a home pregnancy test?

It's a popular question. One that maybe has been nagging at you, just at the edges of your mind.

Well, wait in suspense no longer. Turns out, I can help you out here.

First of all, let me show you what it doesn't look like.

It doesn't look like our home pregnancy test on beta day. Which looked, well, like not a whole lot really (beta = 26.8).

Instead, a beta of 12,691 (31dp5dt) looks like this:

Yowza, no mistaking the line at this point. Although when I first saw the FRER test, I panicked for a milisecond because the one line was so faint. But then I realized that the test line had soaked up all the ink, leaving the control line looking woefully insufficient.

That's some line, though, isn't it?

It's probably getting really tiresome to see these POAS posts, but I guess I just remain incredulous that we are pregnant at all, let alone that we are still pregnant.

I wonder how long it will take to sink in?

Mo

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Mekate's baby is here!!!

Excellent news to report: Mekate had a baby girl very early this morning!! Go over and wish her congratulations! I think she is an incredible, wonderful woman. And her story is amazing. Four IVFs...last one at age 43, and here is the awesome, awesome outcome. I am just bursting with happiness for her and her husband Doug.

Most excellent news that all is right with the world.

Mo

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Reassurance is such a lovely thing

Will and I went in to the hospital (I ended up doing most of my day but trying to stay off my feet, no major walking and just taking things super slow). Will wrote scripts for me to get my progesterone, estrogen, and beta level checked, as well as platelets and anti-Xa factor (both of which can be impacted by the lovenox). It didn't look promising that we would be able to arrange an ultrasound on the down low, but around 2:30, Will was able to work something out and we got snuck in.

And folks. I'm telling you, maybe, just maybe, everything will be ok. They couldn't locate any source of bleeding, and they could locate the heartbeat. They couldn't figure out how to do the counting of it, so we have no idea how fast it is beating, but it was visible, even to Will and me. That was a huge phew! moment. Especially as I have continued to cramp significantly all day (but no more blood!)

Most of the test results are back and look good. Estrogen is 615, progesterone is 23.12, and the beta (drum roll...) is 12,691 (doubling time 91 hours, which is just dandy at this point). Which makes me think that the ever-so-slight nausea I've been thinking I might be feeling may just be real after all. Yeah!!

So, um, it seems that there might be a baby inside this ole' uterus. Wow.

And based on how things are feeling, it's a baby with very long, very sharp claws.

We still have the "official" heartbeat ultrasound on Wednesday. But Will and I are breathing much, much easier over here.

Mo

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Mystery spot(ting) and return home

I am safely home. But boy, what a day it has been.

I awoke this morning in the hotel, went to the bathroom, and then all hell broke loose a bit (emotionally for me, at least). TMI to come, so warning to stop reading now if you're squeamish.

As I was finishing up with my first morning pee, I glanced down at my pad and saw a smear of red. No clots. I started freaking. Took off the pad and turned it over to see how much blood was really there. It had saturated to the back of the pad at one small point, but mostly seemed to be more superficial. I began an investigation into where the blood had come from, and came up with nothing. Despite fervent TP wiping, there was nothing but clear white vaginal mucus. Put in the endometrin suppository and the applicator came back clean. Which was weird. I would have thought there would be a bit of red or brown or something if this is where the blood came from. Began to think maybe somehow it was rectal? I am on lovenox, so anything is possible. But all investigation in that area (I'll spare you the details) also turned up negative.

So bleeding, folks, but no idea from where (although I fear I DO know. Sigh). Welcome to Mo's world, the land of the Mystery Spot. Ugh.

On a bright note, despite two flights and lots of airport walking, there has been no more bleeding. I know, because I have been obsessively checking.

I am feeling very uncomfortable, though, on the left side of my abdomen. Uterus is still somewhat crampy, but on the left side am feeling pulling, almost a stabby feeling. Like an implantation feeling, or a (ugh) deplantation feeling.

Besides all that, the day has been uneventful. I've been pretty much horizonal since I got home. And yes, I practically kissed the ground when I got here. It is SO good to be home.

My local RE is out of town until Weds., which is when I have my ultrasound. And I'm sort of between OBs with first appointment for new one not until the day before Thanksgiving. Will is trying to scare someone up to do a scan tomorrow off the record, but I don't know if we'll be able to arrange this.

Not sure what to do about the workweek. I have a fairly important day tomorrow with several things (including patients) I'd have to cancel (and let my team down with) if I don't go in. But on the other hand, if I have a subchorionic hemorrhage (one guess, if the baby hasn't already died), I'm thinking maybe I should be staying pretty still and not going in. Geesh, I don't know. On the other hand, I feel like everyone would tell me that there's nothing that can be done at this point anyway. So maybe I should just go about my day as usual? If I did call off from work, what should I say? (I'll need to be near death to cancel out of one of the events for tomorrow - it's a big deal for our team. so no typical "I'm sick" will cut it, I don't think). What would you do?

And those of you who had a subchorionic hemorrhage, aside from the bleeding, did you have any other symptoms? How was the SCH treated?

Feeling that hope is dwindling over here. Just feeling doomed. Hopefully, I'll be pleasantly surprised. Trying to remind myself that until I am told otherwise, there's a baby in there. A miraculous green pea to blueberry size little creature. Please hang tight in there, little one!

As always, guys, thanks for listening, and for your thoughts.

Mo

p.s. In response to a couple of you asking, the co-worker/supervisor who wanted to drink at the conference turned out to be so swamped preparing for her symposium talk that hanging out and drinking wasn't ever an issue. And she never asked if I was pregnant, so I wasn't faced with that, either.

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Talk completed and uterus hanging in there

Phew! Can't believe it, but the talk is over. What a relief!

I think I did OK. Rebecca, thanks for your ideas from toastmasters - I kept repeating that the audience wanted me to succeed, wanted me to succeed, before I stood up to speak, and I think it helped. Towards the end, I started stumbling over my words a bit and could hear my anxiety in my voice, but I gave the talk, no one threw fruit, people asked thoughtful questions when it was over. All in all an acceptable experience.

Big plus: didn't start hemorrhaging during the talk, despite my fears that something BAD like that would happen. In fact, leading up to talk and during and after it, I actually forgot about being pregnant for a bit. Wowsers. Maybe it seems strange, but this whole pregnancy business is typically never far from my thoughts. So it was interesting to just be completely catapulted in to a different place and to be so focused on it that I had no room to remember my pregnancy. Cramps stopped for a while too, which was a nice relief. they are returning now - I think they seem to be worse when I have to sit at a desk....strange...(baby doesn't like me working?)

Going to one more workshop today and then taking it really easy tonight before flight back tomorrow. It will be so nice to be home.

Uterus, I beg you, please behave until I get back to the States!!

Mo

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Update

No more spotting since yesterday, as of now, at least. The cramping continues (although it stopped for a while this morning). Things feel ominous to me, but of course my feelings could mean anything, could mean nothing. Am drinking lots of water and trying to stay off of my feet.

I deeply appreciate all of your thoughts. Really do. Thanks for taking the time to share all your bleedy, crampy stories. My gosh you people bled and cramped a lot! An impressive bunch, you are! Especially for getting through it with your sanity intact.

I don't mean to whine, but forgive me for a moment while I do anyway. Folks, I know you know, but I want to say it anyway: this is so, so hard. Being sort-of pregnant, I mean. The farther we get, the more anxious I become. Every twinge, every non-twinge, completely stresses me out. And to have the pink tinge yesterday? To be full-on cramping? oh.my.god. completely.over.the.edge.

And add to that the fact that I am so far away from home, in a place where English is not the main language... What was I ever thinking agreeing to come here?! What I was thinking then eludes me, but what I am thinking now is that I am in my hotel room in my pajamas, and I plan to stay here the rest of the day, not even venturing out to fill my ice bucket.

I checked out where my symposium will be taking place tomorrow. It's going to be, um, in a full size ballroom - seating capacity 500 or 1,000 or something. Like completely out of control. I have NEVER spoken in front of such a large audience. (and have I mentioned that I deeply fear public speaking?) I guess it should have occurred to me since this is an invited talk and is a "featured" symposium, that it would be getting prime billing (usually my talks are in some musty basement room that seats 15-20 people). Oh, and have I mentioned that I have nothing to say in my talk? Or at least pretty sure nothing of importance to say? No data to present (seriously), because my research study hasn't started recruiting patients yet. So I'll be, I don't know, talking about the research study I *will* be doing. Maybe I'll try something novel, like blowing up balloon animals in front of the esteemed researchers in my field. Oh, and cramping. Since it appears that I'll be cramping as well, maybe I'll make a point to mention it during the talk, just to make the whole occasion more memorable.

OK, Mo. Deep breath. What's the bright side? Major bright side is that aside from that minimal spotting yesterday, I am NOT bleeding. And I am not doubled over cramping, which would be BAD. I am feeling very menstrual, I am feeling achy in my uterus, and this could be bad, or it could be good, or it could mean absolutely nothing at all.

This morning I braved the outside world to find a pharmacy and bought a bunch of water (because the tap water here is bitter and nasty) and some crackers and juice and (cough) some HPTs (I'm like an addict at this point, spending time planning when can I buy more HPTs, planning how can I procure more HPTs, avoiding other activities and role functioning because I am too busy peeing on my HPTs!!!). I think even though they aren't in English I should be able to figure this out. Two lines = Argh, who the hell knows anymore? Well, it at least equals that things haven't taken a precipitous dive for the worse. Also, did you know that in other countries they have HPTs that say how many weeks pregnant you are? I bought some of those too, although I'm afraid to use them. Why do we not have this in the U.S.? Seems like a fine invention.

In twenty-four hours my talk will be over (hopefully not my career as well) and then I can just rest up and take it easy until I fly back home. Flight home currently scheduled for Sunday morning. Wish I could move it up, but it doesn't look so likely, unless I want to spend another $800 or so.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And thank you, seriously, for being out there, and for listening.

Mo

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