Round 2....

I know I haven't been on here much, and to be honest, all's been relatively quiet in the baby making zone...until this last week that is.  This last month was the cycle where we had the green light to get back on the baby train.  There was something very different about the 'trying' this time though.  Apart from anything, husband and I are back on the same sleep schedule now that he's found himself a job, and we've both been so much more relaxed in general.  He's been quite entertaining with his way of assuring me - i.e. "don't worry, I got you pregnant that time" and "so, are you pregnant yet?"

So, 12 days past ovulation (DPO), I figured that would be a good time to take a test...and ended up with a big fat negative.  I mean, seriously, the line didn't even flicker recognition.  Same goes for 2 days later (14 dpo), which was getting to be frustrating seeing as my temperatures hadn't dropped and my phone app was telling me that at this point, over 90% of pregnancies have been detected.  Freakin' great.  (A perfect example of how technology can be a little TOO helpful).  I decided I was going to wait until the weekend to test again until this morning, while husband was getting ready for work, I checked my temperature (still high) and lay there feeling just that tiny bit nauseous.  I figured I might as well test one more time (the advantages to having a small stockpile of tests on hand I guess).

Let me tell you that between being first-thing-in-the-am bleary eyed, and the line that could hardly call itself a line, I almost missed the positive result.  Seriously, it took me checking under the bathroom light, opening the window for natural light, and then taking the test into the bedroom to check by my table lamp, before I was 100% sure I wasn't seeing things.  Sure enough though, squinting and in the right light, the line was definitely there, albeit really pale.  Morning brain decided that the line wasn't conclusive, so got dressed to go to the gym, fed the cat, and got ready to leave.  That's when I had a sudden panic attack that it was an evaporation line that I saw and not a positive test line at all.  Now I had to run back upstairs, pull out another test, squeeze out whatever tiny bit of pee (sorry, TMI) was left in my bladder, and test again.  The cat decided that the test looked very interesting and was deserving of a good sniff, which made the wait go by faster at least.  Sure enough, there was a positive line.  This was strangely unexpected to me, the skeptical one who has spent the last week convinced that there's actually something wrong with my cycle and no fucking way could I possibly be pregnant.  Husband, on the other hand, is now convinced that he has super sperm given his propensity to get me knocked up quickly.  I may be inclined to believe him. 

It's not like last time - no real symptoms, no signs, plus of course the late positive test.  I'm not peeing all day, or complaining that my boobs hurt, or eating like a total pig.  I guess my sense of smell has improved somewhat, a little bit of fleeting nausea, and I've been irritable as shit all week.  Then again, it's early in the game so who knows what's to come.

A quick call to my doctor and he's sending me in for blood tests to make sure my hormone levels are rising as they should.  I'm sending out positive vibes to the little seed that's planted in my uterus.  We desperately want you to stick around.

[By the way, I have been using the tests you can get at the Dollar Tree.  They work just fine and don't make you feel financially guilty if you happen to be a habitual tester.  For some reason I was getting a late positive this time around, but last time they had me with a positive the day I missed my period.]

Shaping up

I will admit that in the few weeks I was pregnant, I became a bit of a fatty very quickly.  It seemed like I as constantly starving and gained 10lbs pretty quickly.  For somebody who never goes to McDonalds, I found myself there 3 times in less than a month.  That should have been a sign!  I actually started to worry that I was going to pull a Kate Hudson and gain 70lbs over the course of the pregnancy, then have to go on a strict diet of broccoli and yogurt to get rid of the weight (seeing as I can't afford a fancy trainer to whip me back into shape). In my case, losing the baby put a stop to the weight gain, but I was still too heavy and wanted to be back to my original weight before trying again and getting pregnant a second time but already 10lbs ahead.

I'm definitely not a gym rat, but there are two activities that I really enjoy - Pilates and swimming.  When it comes to those, I don't get sick of them, which is about the best you can ask for when it comes to an exercise regimen.  Swimming is to me what running is to others.  It's my calm happy place where all I'm listening to is my own breathing, and bubbles.  In fact, I had a really "off" swim workout a couple days before I took the first home pregnancy test, which I didn't know at the time was my body trying to tell me something! 

Between the hormones dropping, pilates once a week, and swimming 3 times a week; I'm happy to say that 8 weeks in and I've lost the extra poundage that I gained.  They actually removed the scale at the gym, so I bust out a tape measure and I'm back to my most toned measurements from a year ago.  I'm thrilled at what I've achieved as I feel like I've reset and I'm ready to start over.  Interestingly, I've noticed a very subtle difference in my body shape - I have gained a bit of a booty.  Now, that may sound like a bad thing but I always had a super flat ass, and my pelvis seems to have shifted slightly so there is now a small bump where there was nothing before.  No amount of working out was ever going to give me the posterior that I wanted, so I'll consider this a small gift that came from a sad time.

The waiting game

Two months doesn't seem like an incredibly long time, unless it's two months of waiting, in which case it can feel like an eternity.  After I had my D&C, I asked my OB the all important question - "when can we start trying again?"  He told me 2 months. 

As a whole, there is a lot of waiting in this trying to get preggo business.  First it was waiting to see if I actually was pregnant, waiting for my first doctor's appointment, waiting to see if we would actually get a heartbeat, waiting to see if I would miscarry naturally.  After the D&C, there was waiting for my first period, waiting to see if I would ovulate as usual, waiting for my next period....and now here we are. 

Dear Aunt Flo arrived yesterday.  My cycle seems to sticking at 30 days and I'm apparently cramp free.  [Hey, something good did come of this right?]  Of course, I spent the last 2 months just wishing we could hurry up and start trying again, and now that we can, I feel strangely unprepared - which is totally not the case considering I've been anticipating this every single day.  Having said that, I'm also very excited, although a little anxious.  Just thinking positive thoughts that it'll all go smoothly this time.  I'm still yearning to decorate the nursery, sew and knit sweet little outfits, go on play dates with my best friends' children...

So, how are we celebrating that we made it?  Sushi for dinner.  Might as well get it in while I can right?

And I'm back

It's been a while since I posted but it's time to return.  Things are finally starting to settle down.  6.5 weeks after my surgery, and I had my first period.  I don't know if I've ever been so happy to see my period arrive!  I've started charting my temperature again, just to make sure that everything is doing what it's supposed to.  I'm also enjoying the forbidden fruits - deli meats, sushi, alcohol.  We even have a trip to Las Vegas booked (seeing as pregnant Vegas isn't much fun).  You get the picture.

In other news, husband got a job.  The company made a push to remove his temp contract early, so now he's soon to be making a nice salary with benefits and perks.  He's also gone back to school, working on his accounting degree.  I couldn't be happier for him - after the 2 solid years of unemployment, he deserves to finally have a job that he likes and goes to work every day knowing he feels appreciated.  I tell him that we'll even have enough in the budget for day care, when the time comes.  We bought a new couch yesterday and my heart melted just a little bit when he told the salesperson that we wanted something both child and cat friendly.

So, things are looking up.  We made it through one of the hardest things we've ever had to endure, and we're happy.  I'm finally feeling like I can talk about what happened, and telling my two best girlfriends was such a weight off my shoulders.  I'm both nervous and excited about trying again, but the timing is so much better this time around and I remain optimistic that we have a beautiful family in our future.

Saying goodbye

Last Friday, I had a D&C.  I would have been 9w3d pregnant.

The past month has been a whirlwind.  It's unbelievable to me that it was really only a few weeks ago that I took those pregnancy tests and this whole thing began.  If you'd told me we'd get pregnant within 6 weeks of going off the pill, I would have laughed.  If you'd told me that my first pregnancy wouldn't be viable, I would have called you a liar.  However, that is the truth of the situation and having gone through what I have now, I'll never quite look at myself in the same way again.  

When I went to see my doctor last Friday,  I was ready to have him perform the D&C to remove all traces of the tiny being inside me - the little embryo that never developed a heartbeat and was never destined to join us in the world.  My body obviously still hadn't caught up to the fact that "peanut" wasn't alive, and I was ready to move on and find closure.  I have been strangely calm over the last couple of weeks but sitting in my doctor's office while the nurse was scheduling my procedure with the hospital, and a miriad of hugely pregnant ladies wandered in and out of the waiting room, the bubble burst.  I just cried out everything that had been held up inside me.

My husband just started a new job, so for the first time during this whole process, he wasn't by my side.  I called my mother-in-law to take me to the hospital that afternoon, feeling at least optimistic that all the waiting would finally be over.  This would be my first time admitted to a hospital, in surgery, and under anesthesia.  They prepped me to be in the operating room, put in the IV, and I went from talking about Harry Potter with the nurses in the OR to waking up in recovery.  It seemed almost like I'd just woken up from a nap, but all I felt was a sense of relief that it was over.  I wanted my husband desperately and, fortunately, he'd made it to the hospital while I was in recovery, so was waiting for me in the patient rooms upstairs.

I'm so grateful that every single nurse that attended to me at the hospital was simply wonderful.  I've never had a group of complete strangers provide me with such a sense of comfort and security in my most difficult time.  I had decided when picking my OB that this was the hospital I wanted to deliver at, incidentally being the very same hospital where my husband was born.  After my experience there, I know for sure that when the time comes, it is the right place.  The nurses were all so sweet, saying how they hoped they'd see me again but in the delivery rooms next time around.  I hope they're right.  I also can't say enough about my OB.  I have only known him for a few weeks, but I trust him implicitly to provide the best care possible for me, and my future family.

By the end of the weekend, the spotting had stopped and I was back to feeling pretty normal - until last night.  I probably over-exerted myself a little bit, and next thing I know I'm dealing with horrendous cramping and I woke up in the middle of the night to bleeding.  I guess this is pretty normal in the first couple of weeks after a D&C, but it feels like a kick in the teeth.  It's a reminder that my desire for closure isn't quite fulfilled.  I'm trying to think of this in terms of my body needing to cleanse itself in order to reset, to provide a fresh start.  However, it's really just another reminder of what we've lost, and that's just so hard.

I know that what I'm going through is sadly so common.  I know that there's nothing I did, or didn't do, to cause this.  I know that there are millions of women in the world that have also gone through this, including my own mother.  I know that with time my body and mind will heal, and we'll start over.  I know that I have the strength to make it through this - the hardest thing I've ever had to endure.

Dear Peanut

It's amazing what a difference a few short weeks can make.
You were only inside me for a short time, but you'll always be a 

part of me.   I don't know how to explain the sadness that you
weren't able to stick around and, although I understand that there 

was good reason that you couldn't stay, it doesn't make it any 

easier to say goodbye.

You've changed me as a person.  I'll never be the same as I was 

before you.  You were everything to your daddy and 

me - you showed us a future that just seemed like a distant 

dream before you were in our lives.  

You may be gone, but you'll never be forgotten.  

I will carry you in my heart always.

~Mama~

Waiting to exhale

There's been a lot I've wanted to post over the last week, but admittedly it's been hard to find the words.  Finally, I think I'm ready to explain this rollercoaster ride we've been on.

Two Fridays ago, we had our highly anticipated first OB appointment.  Naturally, we were nervous but so excited to finally catch a glimpse of the tiny being growing inside of me.  The doctor appointment was going well, everything appearing normal.  I couldn't help but laugh at my husband's face while the nurse was essentially putting lube and a condom on the "wand" for the transvaginal ultrasound.  In fact, when the doctor asked him to come stand by me so we could both see the ultrasound clearly, we were still giggling like little kids.  After a few seconds, we saw a little blob and I think my heart must have skipped a beat seeing that tiny little fuzzy patch on the monitor...and then our world came crashing down around us.  Our doc became very quiet and gently said that he was concerned that he couldn't see a heart beat.  He checked a little more and took some measurements.  At 7 weeks 3 days along, I was only showing at 6.5 weeks.  With not being able to see the flutter of the heart, he said that he wanted to send me for blood tests to check my hormone levels and try to figure out what's going on. 

The following Monday, I dropped by a lab to have my blood drawn again.  I was called in and right before she stabbed with the needle, the nurse happily announced that she was "feeling jittery" and had probably had too much coffee.  Sure enough, it was probably the bloodiest blood draw I've had in a while and resulted in a nice red bruise, ironically about the same size as the little peanut in my uterus.  I figured the pain is worth it to know that my baby is doing well.  Turns out that the blood test results were actually very normal.  The hCg hormone was still rising (up to 93K over the weekend) and my progesterone levels were on the low end of normal, but not conclusive.  My OB noted that from this point, it could go both ways and he was cautiously optimistic for the success of the pregnancy.  I took this to be hopeful, but I'd already been preparing for the worst for several days at this point.  I had words with peanut, asking it to hang in there.  I was hopeful that that extreme nausea and tiredness wasn't a result of anxiety, but a sign from the little one that it was doing ok. 

Last Friday, we went in for a secondary ultrasound with a substitute OB while mine is out of town.  He was happy that my cervix was still closed with no bleeding or cramping.  Once again, hooked up to the ultrasound machine, but no giggling this time around.  We could see a large gestational sac, but no yolk sac or fetal pole, and still no heartbeat.  At 8w3d, it sank in that we'd lost this baby. 

So, here I am, waiting to miscarry.  I'm waiting to see if my body figures out what's going on in the next few days, but have an appointment with my regular OB later this week to consider the option of a D&C to remove the tissue from my uterus.  It's strange to think of it in such clinical terms.  A part of me is wondering why I'm not more of a mess.  In fact, there are a few family members who seem to be having a harder time with this situation than me (or my husband).  We almost feel guilty that we're so calm - but I look at this as something that happened with good reason.  My body knows what's best and if it knew that this wasn't going to be a healthy pregnancy, better that we have to deal with this now than bigger complications later on.  As much as it hurts, I know which I prefer.  We will have opportunity to try again - we weren't expecting to fall pregnant within 6 weeks anyway and we're fortunate to know that we even have that option. 

At this point, there is nothing to do but wait.  I've always heard that it's not possible to be "kind of pregnant", although I'm feeling somewhat inclined to disagree.  I'm pregnant, but not, and it's a weird limbo to be in. 

So cute!

Weekend before last, husband and I took a trip to visit my brother and husband's parents.  My brother works at a fancy schmanzy restaurant in Vegas, which works out well for me because I get to seriously overeat on some of the most decadent fine-dining....for free.  I was just thankful that I haven't suffered from any food aversions as yet, because I was happy to scarf down all the food that was put in front of me. 

Eating out at my brother's restaurant is really one of those psuedo-celebrity experiences.  All the staff come to by introduce themselves, and take extra care to make sure that you're satisfied with your meal.  After all, I'm the sister of one of the boss men, therefore they don't want to risk messing something up.  This time around though, he'd informed several members of his staff that I'm expecting and as if I didn't already feel spoiled, this made it even worse!  There were various rounds of congratulations from various different servers, and managers, and then to top it off, my dessert arrived.

First, my hormones got the better of me and I started to tear up at just how freakin' cute my little brother can be.  Then, after the server had retreated from the table, I immediately stuck my spoon in it, before remembering "oh crap, I need to take a picture".  [I guess part of the moral here being to not get between a pregnant woman and her creme brulee.]

My brother meanwhile shrugged and said "what can I say? I'm a proud uncle."