Putting it in perspective

So, what do you think people would say to you if you were paraplegic instead of infertile…
As soon as you buy a wheelchair, I bet you’ll be able to walk again!
You can’t use your legs? Boy, I wish I was paralyzed. I get so tired of walking, and if I were paralyzed I wouldn’t have to walk anywhere!
My cousin was paralyzed but she started shaving her legs in the other direction and she could walk again. You should try that.
I guess God just didn’t mean for you to be able to walk.
Oh, I know exactly how you feel, because I have an ingrown toenail.
Sorry, we don’t cover treatment for paraplegia, because it’s not a life-threatening illness.
So… when are *you* going to start walking?
Oh, I have just the opposite problem. I have to walk everywhere I go!
But don’t you *want* to walk?
You’re just trying too hard. Relax and you’ll be able to walk.
You’re so lucky… think of the money you save on shoes.
I don’t know why you’re being so selfish. You should at least be happy that *I* can walk.
I hope you don’t try those anti-paralyzation drugs. They sometimes make people run too fast and they get hurt.
Look at those people hiking… doesn’t that make you want to hike?
Just relax, you’ll be walking in no time.
Oh do my legs hurt, I was walking and walking and going up and down the stairs all day.
I broke my leg skiing, and was on crutches for weeks, and was worried I’d have a permanent limp, but I’m 100% healed.
I’d ask you to be in my wedding party but the wheelchair will look out of place at the altar.
You’re being selfish, not coming on the hike with us, and looking at all of my track & field trophies.
Don’t complain, you get all the good parking places.
If you just lose weight your legs will work again.
If you would just have more sex, you could walk!
You don’t know how to walk? What’s wrong with you? Here let a real man show you how to walk!
You are just trying too hard to walk. Give up, and then you’ll walk.
Here, touch my legs, then you’ll walk!
Just take a vacation, and the stress-break will be sure to get you walking!
When *we* were young we only had to worry about having to walk too much.
And I bet a paraplegic going to a bookstore doesn’t find books about paralysis stacked next to all the books on running…

The truth is stark white

There's no second line and while I know that it is early, I'm sad and ready to accept this was not our cycle after all. I think I have gotten cocky about our ability to conceive. As though conception will always happen, but a successful pregnancy might allude us. Why would it be that easy? I suppose I've heard that you are more fertile after a miscarriage and I hoped that would be the case and that being proactive and testing early would prevent another loss.

But there's no second line. No matter what light I hold it in or if I take it apart or if I test again at a different time of day...it's stark, startling white...a great white nothing that almost taunts me.

The waiting game

Well, it's our first cycle back ttc with the aid of aspirin. I've been pretty lax about my vitamins but I am serious about the aspirin. My chart looks promising. Actually, its almost a dead ringer for my last chart. Is that something that should make me happy though??? That pregnancy did not end well, but I can't help being a little excited.

In fact, here's a confession: I actually grabbed my belly yesterday and squeezed it with a little scream of joy. As though its already set in stone.

It feels arrogant though. Arrogant to assume that it will be so easy to get pregnant. Arrogant to think this will be the one that sticks.

So does it make me naive or optimistic that I believe a second line will show up on Saturday? And what will that line mean?

Why?

Why do I want another baby? As I sit here trying to get my son to sleep, I wonder how I can handle 2 kids. Mostly because tonight, like many other nights, I feel like a single parent. My husband is out dealing with work stuff, and as always, its something that could wait. I guess I am bitter because I wish he put so much time and effort into our family. He's more concerned with his co-workers issues than mine.

I suppose I'm pissed because we're out of milk. I asked him to get some and now its midnight - no husband, no milk, no sleeping toddler. Hw on earth can I do this alone?

Ovulation and Anxiety

I avoided going to get my last bloodwork until earlier this week. I had a very heavy period last week, so I assume everything will come back clear this time. I'm thankful not to have to go to through a 2 month miscarriage again. However with the return of my period, this means the return of ovulation. I'm hoping it will come at the right time this month and not be excessively late.

With ovulation looming, I feel panicky. What if the issue is with my thyroid and we don't get it corrected in time, I ovulate, get pregnant, and miscarry again? I also need to be doing the baby aspirin ( but I have no idea what that means). And while I was thinking of that, it occurred to me that when I got pregnant with James I had been taking LDA. My mother had a heart attack 2 weeks before and my husband started making us take low dose aspirin to help combat potential heart issues for myself. Anyway, I was on aspirin when I conceived and he was implanting. I can't help but find that more than a coincidence. What if it is only happy chance that I have James in my arms? Suffice it to say, I'm taking aspirin again.

How to support a grieving parent

I stumbled upon this today and thought it was an excellent resource. I've had a lot of crappy things said to me by well-meaning people. A lot of "God's plan" stuff or timing or it will happen. What a lot of people don't realize is that miscarriage and pregnancy loss is to the parents the death of a loved one. Part of the problem is that loved one was never known by anyone else, so people have a hard time relating. If you know someone who has, or is, experiencing this, these insights might help you:

Ways to Support a Grieving Parent
PLEASE . . .
Know that I need your support. I may not ask for help (I may be much too numb), but I need to know you're there.
Know that I do not expect you to make me feel better or to take away my pain. Right now no one can. I need your support, your acceptance of my need to grieve, and your willingness to live with the helplessness you'll feel.
If you haven't called because you cannot handle my grief and your helplessness, say so. I can truly understand that and I'll feel better than I would if you used excuses that made me think you didn't care.
Try to tolerate my anger if you can. It's not really you or others who anger me; it's that I lost what I loved. Please forgive my "unreasonable" outbursts. I hope you'll understand.
Don't try to stop my tears. My tears may be hard on you, but they are a healthy way for me to release some of my pain. Crying is good for me; please try to sit with me and let me cry.
Don't try to cheer me up by comparing "worse" losses. Pain is pain, and mine must be acknowledged.
Understand if I can't bear to be with your new baby or to attend a baby shower. I do wish you joy and I even feel gladness for you, but my grief cannot be suppressed.
Don't tell me that what happened must have been "God's will." Hearing that brings me no consolation right now and only adds to the spiritual confusion and isolation I feel.
Don't remind me how lucky I am to have other children or that I can try soon to have another. There is not, nor will there be, a replacement for this child

PLEASE . . .
Don't say, "It was better this way."
Don't say, "I know how you feel." No one knows that. Please ask instead how I am today, how I feel.
Offer specific help . . . a meal, a laundry done, a free hour. I'm too deeply hurt to think very far ahead.
Don't tell me to put this behind me, forget and get on with my life. This is my life. I need to grieve. I need to be me and I need not to forget but to find a way to remember in peace.
Hold me, touch me, tell me that you care, bear with me through this uncharted territory that is my grief.
Accept me in my grief and I'll always remember the healing love that you offered me

Taken from: http://www.amysangels.com/grief.htm

In media res

This is where this blog starts. I have posted for a considerable time on a well-known message board, but alas I want a little privacy and the ability to join a community of woman bloggers whom I greatly admire. So this blog starts in media res (for those non-English grad students, in the middle). I have gone back and posted the blogs starting at my first loss, so you can be aware of where this began.

They don't tell the whole story though.

I am a 26 year-old PhD student, running my own business, while taking care of my 16 month-old son. My husband and I started trying to conceive in 2006 and were blest after a few months with a healthy and uneventful pregnancy. By the time our son was 6 months old, we were talking about the next baby. By 9 months, we were being purposefully careless. Within weeks, I was having strange bleeding. It didn't take long to put two and two together. After several anguishing days, the miscarriage was confirmed. We assumed it was a fluke. We assumed it wouldn't happen again.

In June, I tested positive on a test. Blood tests revealed a very low level. It's still unclear whether it was a chemical pregnancy or leftover from April. I decided to believe it was leftover. I now question that.

We started ttc in July. My cycle ran long as it was the first real one since the miscarriage. I was disappointed not to get pg, but glad I ovulated.

In August, we took it more seriously. Our timing was perfect. I was shocked when my period came. I didn't think much about it being too short. I assumed my body was still regulating itself. For two weeks, I kept making off-hand comments about how exhausted I was to my husband. I said several times to him, my sisters, and my friends that if I didn't know better I would think I was pregnant.

I should have known then.

I was too busy.

That time of the month rolled around - time to babymake. One afternoon, after a morning date I started spotting. I knew then. The loss was confirmed two days later. We were hopeful while we waited. My numbers were higher and surely I wouldn't lose a baby the exact same way again! We were wrong.

Most doctors make you wait to do testing until 3 losses, mine seems to think there is cause for concern now. So here we are facing the unimaginable. We have a healthy toddler. We want lots of children. How can I be sad when I should be grateful for what I have? Why these pregnancies? What has changed?

These are the things I grapple with daily. I want to clarify something right now. I love my son and I am thankful for him. If he is my only child, I will never be sorry for that. But I am not ready to give up. I hope you will share this journey with me. I need all the support I can get.