Wordless Wednesday: Hope

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 Due Date: Our Story of Blessing and Loss, part 1

Today is the day my first baby, Athanasios, was due. If I had the healthy, normal pregnancy that we expected, I would have been giving birth to my first child this week.
This is a difficult day, and week, for me. Nevertheless, I’m glad it has finally come to pass. It feels cathartic, like now it’s time to turn a new page in our story. So, I’ve decided to take this opportunity to go back and share the details of our infertility and miscarriage journey thus far.

Since the last time I posted specifically about our TTC attempts and our IUI protocol, etc., was almost a year ago, I thought I would briefly review the protocol that I started to describe there, and then get on telling you about the rest of the journey. If you need reminders about what certain procedures, medications, etc. are, head back to the August 20, 2009 post. And if you need to get caught up on the whole history of our TTC journey, read the July 30, 2009 post.

Last August we started a medicated IUI cycle that included me taking Clomid on CDs 3-7. Side effects that I had from it included hot flashes, bloating, headaches, and blind spots (like stars you see when you get a concussion or a migraine). I have heard from other gals that mood swings are also very common, and the doctor warned me that the Clomid could thin out the uterine lining and decrease cervical mucus (which is an important fluid present around ovulation (“O”) that helps the sperm swim through the cervix and into the uterus).

Because of the last couple of side effects from Clomid, the next drug was Estrogen, or Estradiol, which I took on CDs 8-12. The bloating continued, but the other side effects subsided. Starting on CD 11, I had to use an ovulation predictor kit (“OPK”) first thing in the morning, and as soon as we had a positive result, call the clinic and go in for an intra-vaginal ultrasound (“IVUS”) to see how big my mature follicles were and how thick my uterine lining was, and from that, predict how close I was to O. We also had to abstain starting on CD 9 until the insemination, so that my dear husband (AKA “the Wacky Wicketeer”) could build up a good store of soldiers before making his deposit! They start you on CD 9 in case you have to get the IUI on CD 12, so that you have three days of storage, but I didn’t O until CD 14 (as usual), so it was a long time, I tell ya! And mind you, those days are your most fertile, so for the previous two years, that had been prime baby-dancing time! What a switch…

On CD 13, I had a positive OPK, and we went in for my IVUS. I had two good, mature follicles and a nice uterine lining, so then I was injected with a form of HCG, AKA, the pregnancy hormone. This injection is commonly called a trigger shot, because it is supposed to trigger O. It also means that for a period of time, you could get a false positive on a home pregnancy test (“HPT”), because you had the very hormone it tests for injected into your system. The Doc then told us that the Wacky Wicketeer would need to be back early in the morning and make his deposit, and two hours later would be my second round with the IVUS, to make sure everything still looked good and see if I had O’d yet or not, and then an IUI.

Late that night was one of the most painful I’d had up to that point. My ovaries felt like they were going to explode! Sure enough, when I returned the next morning, I had already O’d. So, we had just the one shot at IUI.

After the Wacky Wicketeer made his deposit, they took the soldiers, “washed” them, to get rid of dead and useless ones, and then gave them a special vitamin solution to swim around in on their voyage.

Now, my turn. The tiny room we were in already contained me, the Wacky Wicketeer, the RE (doctor), and the nurse. As I’m laying there with my feet in the stirrups, all pride gone, into this sardine can walks two more people - a lab tech, with an assistant in tow. The lab tech is carrying what we’ve all been waiting for – the troops have arrived! In her hand is what looks to me like a two-foot long straw. It was labeled, and she very formally read our names from the label, and we said, yep, that’s us! The RE then took the straw from her, and the lab tech and her assistant left. Whew. A little more breathing room. That’s when the RE, having already used the speculum on me like a regular gynecological pelvic exam, inserts a catheter connected to the straw through the vaginal canal, past the cervix, up into the uterus, and aims as close to the fallopian tubes as he can get, so those little soldiers have a shorter swim. It wasn’t real painful, just a little weird, and I had a little cramping start when it passed my cervix, sort of like mild menstrual cramps. It took a couple of minutes (seemed like an eternity to me!), and when the RE was done, he set an egg timer for 10 minutes, and said I could get up, dressed, and go when the timer went off. Oh, and that we should boink like bunnies that night to add to our chances!

Not that night, but the following night, I started taking a prescribed compound vaginal suppository nightly. It was a compound that was primarily intended to deliver progesterone, to support a possible early pregnancy, and make sure I didn’t start menstruating earlier than I should. The suppositories are messy, so you take it right before you go to bed. I was instructed to take it until either my period came, or I had a blood test that showed I was negative for pregnancy, at least sixteen days post-IUI.

Normally, good ol’ “Aunt Flo” (or “AF”, as the TTC community so quaintly refers to a woman’s period) arrives on CD 26 or 27 for me, not 29 like for the “average” woman. This would have been only twelve days post-IUI for me, but the progesterone prevented my period from starting normally, so I took a HPT. OK, I took several HPTs. They were all that dreaded BFN (big fat negative)! But, just in case, hope beyond hopes, I had to continue waiting another four days, then went in for the blood “beta” test. (I have no idea why they call it a beta test.) Of course, it was negative.

So, our first IUI was a failure. It was also very stressful. Not having gone through the process before, and, at the time, not understanding everything I was supposed to do, or why I was supposed to do it, but being the sole person responsible for making sure that everything happened at just the right time – whew! Add the hormones to that mix, and you can imagine. And everything else in life doesn’t just go on hold because you’re going through this, either.

The toughest point for me was getting the negative home tests, because I knew at that point, that it hadn’t worked. After the blood test confirming that we were NOT pregnant, I stopped the progesterone, and AF showed up three days later. My first instinct was to give up. But my determined Wacky Wicketeer would have none of it. Ultimately, it was an easy decision to take a month off before we would try IUI again.

Come back soon for my next post, which will pick up with our second IUI cycle – when we were blessed with our first pregnancy, and lost our first Angel baby, Athanasios.

Thankful Thursday: Let's Get Physical

Oooooo, a little bit of a risque image, right? Well, I thought it was appropriate for this edition of Thankful Thursday, which is about the physical.

I am thankful for this body God gave me, the home of my soul, temple of my spirit. I am thankful for the legs I have that can walk, run, and jump. Thankful for the eyes in my head that allow me to read and watch, and see all in the world that is so beautiful. I am thankful for the ears I have that allow me to hear, and to listen. Thankful for my lips I have to kiss my husband, and that will someday allow me to kiss my baby's head, and feel the soft fuzz of my baby's hair. I am thankful for the nose that will smell that sweet baby smell, and that allows me joy in the scent of gardenias, jasmine, the spring blossoms on my tangelo tree, and the warm pine and dirt scent of the mountains. I am thankful for the skin I have with which I can touch and be touched by loved ones, and that inexplicably gets goose bumps when I'm inspired or when I watch a hallmark commercial.

I'm thankful for my Wacky Wicketeer's sexy dimples, and his warm, bright eyes. Thankful for his strong arms that hold me close and comfort me. I'm thankful for his gentle hands and his heat-radiating body.

I'm thankful for the smell of clean sheets, the feel of a cool fan on a hot summer's day, and the taste of a tart popsicle.

Lisa Nichols has said: "No one else can dance your dance. No one else can sing your song. No one else can write your story. Who you are, what you do, begins right now."

I am thankful for me.

Wordless Wednesday: So Many Thoughts

Photo by Mary at Flickr's Creative Commons.

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.