Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness

This is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, and today was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. To commemorate our lost babies, many in the community participate in the Wave of Light, lighting candles at 7 PM in our own time zones. Here is mine:

 

I am the mother of three lost babies, Athanasios, Barbara, and Cecilia. So I light three candles, one for each. They are on our household altar, an Orthodox Christian tradition. Here's another picture so you can see the Icons a little better:



We have an Icon for the patron saint of each of our babies. the largest one, in the center, is Saint Barbara. The smaller one to the left is Saint Athanasios, and the tiny one to the right is Saint Cecilia. There is also a glass Icon of Jesus, and part of our Icon of King David in this photo (David is the Wacky Wicketeer's patron saint.) We have others on our household altar and in our home, but these are the ones the help us grieve our babies. Each saint has a name/feast day, and it's on these days that we memorialize that lost child and all that happened or didn't happen centering on their part in our lives. In this way, we can remember them and pray for them once a year, without obssessing over the exact dates of events.

My first two losses, Athanasios and Barbara, were "missed miscarriages". This means that fetal death was diagnosed while they were still in the womb. I then waited for my body to push them out. Athanasios took a week. Barbara took two and a half weeks. When people ask what date I had the miscarriage, or I have to fill it out on a form, this always befuddles me. What date do I pick? The date when I had that eight-week ultrasound done and the heartbeat that had been there two weeks before was gone? Or the date I went into my mini-labor? Or the date I passed the fetal tissue? Having one day each year to grieve these events, and the term milestones and due date that were never reached, and the day of my BFP, helps me cope. It helps to keep my life focused on living.

I want to note here that in our theology, humans do not become Angels. Angels are another type of being entirely. So, though I may occasionally use the term to describe my babies in Heaven, I use it loosely, not under the belief that they are actually Angels. The more accurate term to me is "Lost Babies". I prefer to be called a "Baby loss mother" or "Mommy of a lost baby" than "Mommy of an angel". But, for my loss to be acknowledged at all is both an honor and a rarity, so I really don't mind the use of the term angel in doing so.

Thanks for reading this post. And to those that go so far as to acknowledge my losses, a big thank you for your compassion and respect. One in four women of childbearing age experience pregnancy or infant loss, yet it is still a taboo subject. This means many parents are left to grieve alone. I hope you'll help me change that.

Filling My Life with Other People’s Children

Yes, it has been a loooong time since I’ve posted! I spent most of the year not thinking about kids of my own. Or at least, trying to not think about them. I had a few ideas for posts, but each time felt like I couldn’t focus on this blog at that moment.

One of the things that filled my life this year is other people’s children. This is an emotionally charged topic for us infertiles. Most of us experience so much longing for children of our own, envy is unavoidable. It’s not that we’re not happy for those that have kids. It is completely possible to be happy for someone and jealous of what they have at the same time. It’s part of the grief we have for that loss of what we expected. The loss of a dream of children, whether one or many, no matter how temporary or permanent.

I was there a couple of years ago. I’ve been on this TTP journey for five years now. Between years one and three-and-a-half was the hardest. I went through my miscarriages, my first failed IVF, and I couldn’t bear pregnant bellies, babies, or hardly kids of any age. When I was younger I found other people’s kids mostly irritating anyway. It seemed like so many of them were undisciplined. Now I have a better understanding of child development, and while there are still some brats that I will not hesitate to yell at or lecture, most kids are mostly good, and some even highly entertaining and/or helpful.

I have my Priest to thank for helping me move past my jealousy about other people’s kids. He knew about our infertility and miscarriages, and at the three-year mark, he suggested I help teach the Pre-K Sunday school class. It was hard at first. Seeing that adorable bunch of three and four year olds most Sundays was very emotional for me. But it was also exhausting and fulfilling. The following year, I took over as head Pre-K teacher, and I’m doing it again this school year. It has been wonderful watching them grow up, and even brings a tear to my eye as they move on to their Kindergarten class. We take a summer break from May through September, and I am so excited to start back up in October, and meet my new batch of three year olds!

I also have my nephew to thank, via my only sister. My sister got pregnant in between my two pregnancies that ended in miscarriage. I was so excited for her, and at the same time jealous. Even now, I still struggle with jealousy during others’ pregnancies. My Monchichi (my own personal nickname for my nephew) was born just past my third year mark. From day one, I have felt a connection with him that is indescribable. He reminds me of my sister as a baby, and it sort of feels like watching my best friend grow up all over again! (I’m over four years older than my sister.) I miss him so much when I’m not with him, and much of my traveling this year has been to visit him. I can’t wait until he’s old enough to come visit Aunt Jamie! He’s almost two, and we have conversations where he talks nonsense and I pretend to understand. I also give him raspberries, hang him upside down, and play silly games with him. We laugh so much together! I love him to pieces.

Finally, I have my Godkids to thank, via their mom, my friend Rebecca. Technically, we only sponsored the boy, but I don’t generally feel the need to distinguish them on that level. If that little girl ever needed me, I’d be there for her as much as for our Godson. The boy is 10 and the girl is 8 and a half. They’ve been in our lives for almost 2 years now. This past year I’ve had the opportunity to have them visit on an almost weekly basis. We do some schoolwork, character building, some sports, games, art projects, watch some cartoons, eat dinner and they sleepover. I often read to them at bedtime. They bring such innocence and light into my life! On weeks when I don’t get to spend time with them, life just isn’t quite as good.

I have other friends and family with kids who I would love to know better, too. Unfortunately, many of our friends dropped off the map once they had kids. Some people seem to think that since we don’t have kids, we don’t want to be around them. Admittedly, that may have been true once upon a time, when we were actively grieving. But it hasn’t been for awhile now. Sadly, we have lost friends over these years dealing with infertility and pregnancy loss. But, it has made more room in our lives for our younger friends!

For those of you dealing with infertility, how do you feel about other people’s kids? Has your experience changed over the years? Do you think you’ll try to have more of other people’s kids in your life?

Wave of Light: Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day

Saturday, October 15 was/is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. To honor those babies gone too soon, many of us participated in a "wave of light" by lighting candles at 7 pm in our time zone.

To mourn and honor the three babies we've lost, the Wacky Wicketeer and I named each one after a Saint, in the Greek Orthodox tradition of naming babies. Also in the Orthodox Christian tradition, we have icons of Saints in our home, mostly in an area set up specifically for prayer. The patron Saints of our angel babies are Athanasios, Barbara, and Cecilia. So far we have icons for Athanasios and Barbara, but have yet to find one for Cecilia. On their Name Days, we light a candle and say a prayer for their souls and ours. So we thought it appropriate that on this community-wide day of remembrance, we light three candles and say prayers for all affected by pregnancy or infant loss. (If you look closely at the photo, you'll see the icons of Saints Athanasios and Barbara on the left.)

Our wave of light.

So how do I feel about these losses? I still struggle on occasion to understand why. I struggle with dreams of who my babies may have become. But then I remind myself that the why doesn't matter, and that my babies are with God. This allows me to see His light in every baby--to see just how precious each one is. I can see Him shining through in their little faces, and feel connected to all my babies, past, present, and future.

To My Future Children

A song came on the radio when I started my last post, that made me feel like it should be dedicated from me to my five embies, as my future children (and made me cry-or maybe that was the progesterone I'm on). It's an 80's song called "The Promise", by When in Rome. Of course it wasn't written for this purpose-It's a romantic love song, but it strikes a chord in me right now. Here are the lyrics, and the music video:

If you need a friend,
don't look to a stranger,
You know in the end,
I'll always be there.

And when you're in doubt,
and when you're in danger,
Take a look all around,
and I'll be there.

I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)
But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise, I promise you I will.

When your day is through,
and so is your temper,
You know what to do,
I'm gonna always be there.

Sometimes if I shout,
it's not what's intended.
These words just come out,
with no gripe to bear.

I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)
But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,

I promise, I promise you...

I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)
And if I had to walk the world, that make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will.

I gotta tell ya, I need to tell ya, I gotta tell ya, I gotta tell yaaaa ...

I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)

I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)

But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,

I promise you, I promise you...

I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)

I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)

And if I have to walk the world to make you fall for me,

I promise you, I promise you I will ...

I will...

I will...

I will...

Infertility Follows Us Everywhere - A Little Humor

I have a bazillion things going through my head that I want to write about, but can't seem to find the time to spit it all out! So instead, I decided to share this video.

A friend of mine who has struggled with infertility is currently pregnant with triplets after IVF. She posted this on Facebook, and I couldn't resist sharing it here. Enjoy!

Bittersweet Memories



Image: Darren Robertson / FreeDigitalPhotos.net


A little over a year ago, I became pregnant for the first time. That was after over two years of trying, and our second attempt at IUI (intra-uterine insemination). That pregnancy was one of the happiest times in my life. Life was full of promise, and in naivete I found bliss.

It's funny how our senses absorb simple, virtually unrelated information - sounds, smells, tastes - and imbue them with emotion to be perpetually associated together. When I was pregnant that first time, I was using this anise-flavored toothpaste. I'm not particularly fond of anise. In fact, I much prefer peppermint. But it was supposed to be better for me, so there I was with my anise toothpaste. After I lost the baby, I switched back to peppermint.

For some reason, the other night I found myself using anise toothpaste again. As soon as I tasted it, I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. It warmed me and filled me. I quickly realized why - the taste was transporting me back to that naive and joyous time - and the tears flowed.

It is another, bittersweet reminder that, as this holiday season approaches that I thought would be my first with a baby in my arms, instead of my Athanasios or Barbara, I have anise toothpaste.

A Baby Dream

Over the course of this TTC, infertility, and miscarriage roller coaster, I have had many dreams regarding being pregnant, miscarriages, etc. But last night I had the most vivid dream actually about my baby. I have tried to decide whether it was about one of the two babies I have lost, or about a baby I will have or hope to have in the future, and I've decided that it doesn't matter.

It was a little girl. We had just arrived home from the hospital, and although I knew she was supposed to be strapped into her car seat in the back, in the way that dreams work, I was suddenly holding her in the front seat. I held her in my arms and kissed her on her fuzzy head and her cool, pink cheeks, and she smelled so good it made me cry. When I kissed her cheeks, I could feel her tiny eyelashes on my nose.

Then I realized that I had yet to feed her, and started freaking out a little because I knew she should have been fed much earlier! On top of it, I had never had the nurse instruct me on how to breastfeed! But I was so worried about the fact that she hadn't fed yet, I decided I had to do it right there in the front seat of the car, parked in my garage. And I did. And it worked perfectly. No instruction needed. And she was so beautiful, with her little suckling noises, and her soft little head. I cried again.

I started to wake up, and for the first time in years, I didn't want to. I wanted to stay in that dream more than anything. But I couldn't. I woke up.

The Ups and Downs of Infertility

Today is the first day of a new chapter for my husband and I. Today I started the medication to prepare for assisted reproductive therapy, or ART. It has been a long road to get to this point, but, fortunately, not as bumpy as it is for some. Some people go through multiple miscarriages as they try to conceive. Not us. At least, not yet.

Two years ago, we decided we were as ready as we’d ever be to be parents, so we set aside the birth control and got down to business. We were 31 years old, and wanted to have two kids before we were 35, so I looked up what I needed to know so we could be as effective as possible at our “baby dancing”.

For those of you who don’t know, there is only a period of time of about 4 days, give or take, during each menstrual cycle, that baby dancing (BD) can result in a pregnancy. The window generally consists of the three days before ovulation (O), and the day of O. With busy lives, it can be easy to miss that precious window.

The average woman of child-bearing age ovulates on about cycle day (CD) 14, but it can vary. The average woman also has a menstrual cycle of 28 days, but this can vary, too. To establish her particular fertile window, a woman can take her temperature every morning with a special, sensitive thermometer, and she can use ovulation predictor kit tests – or “pee on a stick” (POAS).

I did all this, and continued doing it off and on for the past two years. My own cycles average 25 days long, so they go faster than a month, but there were multiple times when we had to take off from trying to conceive (TTC). First, because I had to get an MMR vaccine and a TDAP vaccine, and then because I donated blood for my Dad’s surgery.

In the summer of 2008, we started talking to our doctors about fertility, and both got certain tests done. It turns out we have low sperm morphology, creating mild, male factor infertility. That’s the only diagnosis we’ve been able to get. It’s not that we can’t get pregnant, it’s just that we have a lower statistical chance.

So, we spent 22 cycles trying, then hoping, praying and waiting, for the wonderful news. Each cycle, counting down the days, getting negative pregnancy tests, crying when that time of the month came that “Aunt Flo” showed up with her cramps, bloating, backache and all, until I felt like I was going insane.

Today, I had lunch with a good friend and colleague, and we caught up on our TTC misadventures. I mentioned to her that about 16 babies had been born around me, to friends, family, and physically near acquaintances, during the time we have been trying to have a baby of our own. After I got home, I sat down and actually made a list. The total count of babies born or currently pregnant mothers in my world in the last two years is actually 32. And four of those are to two women. The same two women I jealously watched have their first children almost two years ago are already having their seconds.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I love all these parents, whether as friends, family, or just through the love of humanity, and I would never, ever, want to replace their joy with sorrow. I am happy for them. But I am also sad for myself and my husband. I would like more people to realize that every belly pic, every joyous, “it’s a boy!” every baby shower, and every adorable photo of their little ones brings tears to my eyes, and rips open a hole in my heart. Maybe it will help them better appreciate the challenges that kids bring. Maybe when the kids are screaming, and the baby’s crying, they’ll realize that it could be worse – they could have never had those beautiful babies. Moral of the story: Take nothing for granted, including the ability to get pregnant.

Albert Einstein is attributed with the quote, “Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” I definitely reached that place. I thought, well, maybe we’re not meant to be parents. Maybe God has another plan for us. But, really? How could that be possible, when I can feel with all my heart and soul that there’s supposed to be a baby in my arms? I struggled with the idea that we should just give up, but I couldn’t do it. My whole life, I’ve been taught, and lived by, the concept that I must never give up.

Now, I have a new protocol, something different that my dear husband and I can do to have our babies. For the first time in months, I feel cautiously optimistic, like my head is starting to come out of a fog. I can physically feel depression lifting, despite the additional hormones and chemicals that are starting to course through my body. I’m ready, so bring it on.