No matter how big the storm…

No matter how big the storm, the sun always comes out again.
Thank you. ♥

I don’t cry much anymore.

Maybe because after we lost our boys all we did was cry all the time.  I cried when we found out our most recent pregnancy wasn’t viable, but I didn’t cry at all while I was actively miscarrying.

Today a coworker asked why I’m frontloading my work year.  I found out I was pregnant in August, so all I’ve done is work and organize myself to prepare for possible bed rest or preterm labor.  She’s not thick, so I suspect she thinks I’m pregnant, which isn’t far off, but her email is about three days too late… because suddenly my work year has opened up.  Especially considering it’ll likely take us awhile to conceive again.  I was complaining to coworker 2 about busybody coworker 1, and I said out loud something to the effect of, “I’m not pregnant right now,” and it hurt to admit it out loud.

I came home to the kindest card.  And I cried. Am crying.  For my boys, who I feel like I failed.  For the fertilized egg that failed to become a person. For suffering more loss–really, you RPL ladies are the strongest.  For not knowing how long it’ll take to conceive again.  For knowing that even if we conceive again our track record isn’t great.  Still angry at myself for being so naïve to think I had everything planned out… that I would have a child by age 31.  So grateful to know kind women who have passed through to the other side.

The months tick by.  3 cycles to conceive the blighted ovum (we thought we were SO lucky this time), 2 months carrying the blighted ovum.  I know my extended family are watching me, especially now.  I’m so tired of being secretive, but nor do I want anyone trying to discuss TTC with me unless they open with their own story of loss.

Childless-by-choice SIL is hosting a party in October and is inviting DH’s extended family.  They’re local, so it would be a grave faux pas if we skipped it.  Naturally there will be speculation on my fertility status whether or not I go, but at least they generally have the good grace to discuss me behind my back rather than interrogate me.  I HATE PARTIES. Particularly parties that center around getting shitfaced, which this party will be. I should qualify that I didn’t always hate parties, but going out to get drunk no longer holds the same appeal it did in my twenties.  Even if I’m not pregnant when the party comes around, I can’t have more than one drink or I risk becoming maudlin. What’s a poor babyless introvert to do? Go anyway, and grumble and gripe on Twitter of course.

Advertisements

Day 12: #IFproblems

Okay… glitch with scheduled posting the first time around… but hopefully I’ve learned my lesson.

Today is ultrasound day. Hoping all the nausea bodes well, though I know too much to assume that means everything is okay.

Day 12: #IFproblems

Details of this 30 day blogging challenge details available at I Love You Potato.

My brain is tired. Here is a smattering. Hope I’m not letting you down, Potato!

I was at a restaurant for SIL’s birthday and talking to another couple. Somehow the topic of our loss came up. The wife said something, and over the dull roar of the restaurant I thought she said they couldn’t have children because her husband couldn’t. I proceeded to confide in her my parents’ story—which I don’t normally share with people I know in real life as a courtesy to my dad—and she corrected me that her husband doesn’t want kids. AWKWARD. She did proceed to tell me she had suffered a miscarriage (they’re “not trying, not preventing,” whatever her DH’s preference), so I did feel that in the end she was reaching out, but I felt ridiculous the rest of the night for misunderstanding.

It amuses me in the way private jokes do when people tell me I look or act like my dad, when I was conceived with donor sperm.

And then of course there’s an acquaintance I saw the other day who asked me “how the little one was” and I genuinely felt sorry for her. She was probably congratulating herself on remembering at least that I was pregnant last time she saw me (perhaps 4 months ago), even if she forgot I was having twins, and I paused. “Oh, you haven’t heard” and I felt sorry for HER. She was trying to make pleasant conversation, absolutely well meaning. After I told her what happened, she asked the immediate, “So are you going to try again?” and then seemed to realize as soon as it left her mouth that it was the wrong thing, and corrected herself. She ended with telling me the her mother never would have had her (the last child) if she hadn’t miscarried previously, so weirdly, she was grateful… not that her sibling was lost, but that she herself went on to be conceived and born. An awareness, I guess.

And then of course there’s my MIL, who called me a “fertile Myrtle” when I conceived the twins and I couldn’t help but cringe. They were a blessing, but on the heels of months and months of chemical pregnancies, earliest losses.

Day 6: Pet Peeves

pumpkinToday we put away the summer decorations and unpacked our fall decorations. I experienced a pang of sadness, the kind I read about but thought I would be immune to: preparation for your first holidays when you should have had an infant (or infants, in my case) in your arms. My family should be complete right now, and instead my arms are empty. I remember the last time I saw my Halloween decorations I was weighing and measuring which ones were childproof, but for another year at least it doesn’t matter. What will it be like next time I set out my fall pumpkins?

Day 6: Infertility Pet Peeves

30 day blogging challenge details available at I Love You Potato.

I guess my biggest pet peeve is naïveté of others. People who believe BFPs → babies, or even that making it past the first trimester → baby. Or worse yet, those who reassure me that lightning won’t strike twice, when I’ve heard stories of those to whom it has happened. I was proud of myself for telling my dental hygienist about my loss, and she told me she had a friend who lost twins TWICE in her second or third trimester.

I hate people who are blissfully ignorant. I feel bad but there is a girl who, having suffered an ectopic previously, is now pregnant again and flooding my Facebook feed with belly photos and videos of her baby kicking… and she drives me bonkers. It’s like she’s forgotten what it feels like to be on the other side and she’s maddeningly blissful. I will never be blissful like that because I will always be waiting and holding my breath, wondering if I’ll deliver prematurely again. I imagine it’s even worse for someone who’s lost a baby to SIDS—to potentially go through a picture-perfect pregnancy and still worry you’ll lose your newborn.

Day 5: Mantras & Quotes

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.My next ultrasound is one week from today, when we will see a heartbeat (or not). I am choosing to believe that things will be okay so I don’t continue to worry myself sick. I have to save my worrying for the second trimester!

 

Details of this 30 day blogging challenge available at I Love You Potato.

Lately my number one personal mantra is “…because fuck you.” I’m going to [insert anything] and not give a shit—when previously I might have given a shit—because stupid things pale in comparison to losing the twins. It grounds me when I start to worry what someone else is going to think about how I look or act. There is much bigger shit to concern myself with than what other people think of me. It doesn’t have to make sense… because fuck you. See how nicely that works?

I’m not only snarky though.

There are SO MANY quotes to pick from that have inspired me, but I think Gibran’s are my favorite. Fun fact: his real name is Khalil, not Kahlil.

the-deeper-that-sorrow

Remembering my twins. Ignore the distracting fonts and hear the message. ♥♥

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you will see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your joy.

Day 3: Grief Playlist

Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim. -Vicki Harrison
credit: http://www.facebook.com/amandaonwriting

30 day blogging challenge details available at I Love You Potato.

I’m hijacking this prompt.  Rather than an infertility playlist, I give you my brief grief playlist.  These are mainstream (so un-hip), but I don’t listen much to the radio anymore, so haven’t tired of them yet.  They’re the few songs that have really stuck with me lately.

“All of Me” by John Legend (YouTube)

Who doesn’t love a song that talks about loving all my curves and edges?  Especially since my body is different having carried twins and the intense hunger they brought.  “Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too.”  DH and I both found this song very triggering in the wake of our loss, but now when I hear it, I almost like that it gives me pause to think about and remember my boys.

“Chandelier” by Sia (YouTube)

Wild abandon and complete disregard of consequences.  Let’s make some bad choices.   I want to live like tomorrow doesn’t exist.  Of course, it’s easy for me to romanticize it now because I obviously can’t drink.  I’m over the party scene and would prefer my late nights to focus on bonding and feeding and diapers.  Well, okay, not really diapers.

“Habits” by Tove Lo (YouTube)

You’re gone and I gotta stay
High all the time
To keep you off my mind
High all the time
To keep you off my mind
Spend my days locked in a haze
Trying to forget you babe
I fall back down
Gotta stay high all my life
To forget I’m missing you

It’s ironic, because I didn’t do any of that, except for the one day I sat down to have a glass of wine and drank the whole bottle (I think somewhere in the CD 1-7 range).  And I’m not trying to actively forget them, rather songs like this make me think of them.  I am very good now about making songs intended to be about ended relationships instead about my lost sons.

Days 1 & 2: 7 Things, Rituals & Superstitions

Catching up!  This 30 day blogging challenge details available at I Love You Potato.

September 1:  7 Things

But I don’t want you to know me too well!  What about my precious anonymity?  Okay, let’s go for some general info.

  1. a ClearBlue f*** youI’m not technically infertile.  I have had numerous chemical pregnancies, but they all qualify as “preclinical losses” and therefore don’t really qualify as repetitive pregnancy loss.  When I took medical genetics in college, I was told 75% of the time when sperm and egg meet, a loss occurs, but no one ever finds out about it… unless they’re POAS addicts like me and test a day after implantation.
  2. That being said, I am no stranger to infertility. For every one of the blissfully naïve people I want to strangle, I know another in real life who does not have a baby due to PCOS or unexplained repetitive pregnancy loss.
  3. I am a child of infertility. I was conceived via IUI with donor sperm.
  4. I have a cat and two dogs. I feel like a house isn’t a home without pets.
  5. I like to lift heavy things.
  6. I thrive in clutter. This drives some people crazy.
  7. I am a dark chocolate connoisseur. It’s kind of a problem.

 

*fingers crossed*
Source: lindleyhewatt.wordpress.com

September 2:  Rituals & Superstitions

I believe that if I prepare for a certain bad situation, it won’t happen.  The one thing I was sure wouldn’t happen to me (besides conceiving twins in the first place) was horrifically early preterm labor.  The day I went into preterm labor, and even at the hospital waiting to be evaluated in triage in labor and delivery, I wholeheartedly believed I was fine and I’d go home.  Stupid.  I won’t make that mistake again.

In terms of rituals… I plan to go to a different site for my anatomy and growth scan(s).  I will likely have to go to the original ultrasound office for my first dating ultrasound, but thereafter I want to avoid that site.  I want to avoid the place that told me everything was fine a week before everything changed.