Wave of Light 2014

I am the mother of 4 children who will never have a birthday.

Every year on this day, people like me who have experienced pregnancy or infant loss, and others who support us, light candles in acknowledgement of our losses and to help spread awareness. I learned of this and began my participation after my first two miscarriages, in 2010. That was the year I discovered an amazing community of bloggers and tweeps who shared my struggles. I hope if you have this in common with us and haven't reached out, that you will. We are here for you. 

Here is my Wave of Light for 2014. This year is a little different - we have an overly curious kitten, so no open flame this year.  Nevertheless, here's to my babies in heaven, Athanasios, Barbara, Cecilia, and Diomedes. My prayers are always with you, and I hope you're surrounded by the love of your grandpas, too.

Seven

There are so many things I could write about right now, and I plan on addressing them, one by one, in the near future. Some of you know what we went through earlier this year. Some of you don't. It suffices to say, I have come out the other side feeling changed, awakened. For the first time in my life, I feel as clay must feel, soft and pliable, ready to be shaped by a master potter into something miraculous.

Master Potter Spins His Wheel, from Nagarjun

I have experienced much loss in my life. The death of loved ones, born or unborn, and other, less critical losses that still manage to carry a certain amount of trauma. But never have I had so many losses occur in such a short amount of time. I read somewhere that the average person experiences a serious loss once every three or so years. From the end of last year, into the beginning of this one, in about seven weeks, we had seven tragic and scary events: Two deaths of loved ones, a miscarriage, an attempted burglary, an out-of-town hospitalization, a loved one’s cancer diagnosis, and a complicated situation of being trapped while pregnant. 

Many people recognize some of these as losses. But others are not as obvious. So, as I tell you about them, I intend to include some analysis of my own grief. I'm sure this process will leave me feeling vulnerable. I can only hope to continue to receive the same compassion you have shown me in the past.

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.

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.

Oh, Dear, It's Been Awhile!

Somehow, two and a half months have passed without a post! I think I am struggling against a mental block, wanting to finish my description of everything I've been through in the last couple of years, but at the same time, not wanting to think about it too much.

Right now, I can say that I was depressed last year. Pretty much the whole year, with only a couple days where things seemed bright and the fog briefly parted. I think those closest to me could see the evidence of it: My lack of productivity, my more frequently messy house, my need for escapism.

The new year has brought with it a new attitude for me. I think it provided a mechanism by which I could divide the sadness and horrors of the last year from the bright future I hope for. I knew I had successfuly moved out of my depression when, on January 11, I suddenly realized that I had passed the anniversary of my physical loss of my first baby five days prior, and had completely missed it. These anniversaries are normally days of deep reflection and sadness for me. But here, I had passed right by it!

For me, that was a sign. I will never forget what it was like to be joyfully pregnant with those two babies, as brief as my time of joy was. The Wacky Wicketeer and I will memorialize them in our own way every year on their Greek Saints' name days. But, I am no longer in mourning. I am optimistic, and happy. I have Hope again.

Manic Monday Munchies: Feta Cheese!

For this Manic Monday Munchies post, I decided to tell you about one of my all-time favorite single food items, Feta cheese.

The “feta” cheese you see at most grocery stores in the U.S. is not genuine Feta, for two reasons. The first is that it’s not from Greece. Of course, to many Greeks, this is the most important reason. But it’s an unfortunate part of our reality that it’s better for the environment, and more practical, to buy cheese that’s made closer to home. I’m not saying it’s the same. The Feta cheese from Greece has such a distinctive flavor, it’s like eating candy. (Can you tell that I’m drooling just thinking about it?) I’ll admit I usually buy the imported stuff (from Mani Imports).

It’s the second reason that really irks me. That is, the “feta” I’ve been able to find that’s made in the U.S. is made from cows milk. Genuine Greek Feta is made from sheep’s milk, sometimes with a little goat’s milk blended in. The difference in flavor between cow’s milk and sheep’s milk is like night and day – the cheese made with sheep’s milk is much sharper and richer in flavor, even slightly acidic. Sheep’s and goat’s milk is higher in calcium, vitamin B, and proteins than cow’s milk. Moreover, to get the correct color and texture from cow’s milk, chemical processes are used. So much for eating a natural food! These chemical processes aren’t necessary when Feta is made with the correct milk.

“Feta is crumbly in texture and white in color. Feta is traditionally sold in glass jars, although modern packaging techniques have become more commonplace. Feta needs to be covered in brine at all times otherwise it will dry out and mold fast and needs to be refrigerated at all times.” (http://www.igourmet.com/ST/encyclopedia.asp#greek)

Here is one Feta-producer’s description of how they make Feta cheese:

“Curd is molded in large round forms, which are hand-turned frequently as they drain. As the whey drains, the cheese-crafter adjusts timing to perfect each form's texture. After skillful dry-salting, wheels are placed in birch barrels for aging and preservation. There they sit in a 7% brine solution that originally allowed farmers to preserve their milk in the hot Mediterranean climate. Today that brine gives feta its characteristic tang.

By the end of the four-month maturation, a wonderfully creamy, rich, complex flavor is fully developed. ... Its traditional method of production contributes to its full taste, natural aroma and pure white color, properties which have established Feta over the centuries as a unique natural cheese of Greece.

Enjoy this premium feta in a traditional cheese pie, over eggs, stuffed into squash blossoms, or even fried. Or just relax with a slab of feta drizzled with olive oil and garnished with fresh oregano.”

(http://www.igourmet.com/shoppe/prodview.aspx?cat=Salad+Needs&subcat=Salad+Cheeses&prod=823S&name=Authentic+Barrel-Aged+Feta)

Feta has been designated by the European Union as a product of Protected Designation of Origin (PDO), the origin being Greece. “According to the Code of Foods of Greek Legislation, Feta (Φέτα) is produced either from sheep milk or a mixture of sheep and goat milk, in the regions of Macedonia, Thrace, Epirus, Thessaly, Sterea, Peloponnese and Lesvos Island. It must be allowed to mature for at least two (2) months in wooden barrels or metal containers, covered in brine.” (http://fetamania.gr/english-html/feta.htm)

These days, most Feta cheese is made from pasteurized milk. In fact, I have yet to find one sold in the U.S., imported or otherwise, that isn’t. (My guess is that U.S. laws require it all to be pasteurized, but I don’t know for sure, so don’t quote me on that.) This is important to me because of the general rule of not eating soft cheeses when pregnant. Since I’ve been pregnant twice, I was worried about following the no-soft-cheese rule and having to avoid another of my favorite foods. However, if the only reason to avoid soft cheeses is the lack of pasteurization, which used to be common but isn’t anymore, then I could eat pasteurized Feta, right? I still haven’t received a satisfactory answer to this question, but when I do, I’ll come back to the subject and let you know.

In the meantime, I’m going to be right here with my plate of Feta cheese, a little hummus, Kalamata olives, and a glass of wine. Opa!

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.

Manic Monday Munchies: Blueberry Breakfast Parfait

This week for Manic Monday Munchies, I decided to write about a really simple dish that is one of my almost-daily staples - my version of a healthy blueberry parfait!

The base is nonfat Greek yogurt, so while it's a great breakfast item, it can also be a snack or a dessert, and is especially refreshing in the summer! It's something that I also feel safe to continue eating when pregnant. Moreover, the yogurt adds a good quantity of protein-which I have found to be an important part to the start of my day. (The yogurt brand I use has 20g protein per serving.) It can also be a good way for vegetarians to get protein.

Jamie's Blueberry Breakfast Parfait
Layer the following ingredients in a glass dish or tall cup, then eat!

• 1 cup nonfat Greek yogurt
• 1/2 cup walnut halves
• 1/2 cup organic blueberries
• 1 Tbsp. honey

Some extra tips:
My favorite Greek yogurt is Fage, partly because it tastes so great and the texture is light and fluffy, but also because it has no artificial additives or preservatives, and the dairy farmers supplying Fage have pledged not to treat their cows with rBGH.

If you want to use smaller walnut pieces, then decrease the measuring cup size to end up with the same overall quantity of walnuts.

I like to use organic blueberries because (a) they taste better, and (b) when it comes to fruit that I eat skin-on, I think it's important that it's organic. I don't focus as much on eating organic bananas and oranges as I do berries, apples, etc. Also, while fresh blueberries taste great in this recipe, blueberries do freeze really well, and if you want an extra cold, refreshing, summer kick, you could always use frozen ones!

Enjoy!

Manic Monday Munchies: Zucchini Bread

I had a couple of my favorite recipes come up in conversation recently, including one in which Cheryl over at chasingamiracle.com asked me for the recipe. During this whole infertility, pregnancy, and miscarriage journey, food has become an important part of my journey. Not knowing the cause of my Wacky Wicketeer's sperm challenges, or our miscarriages, has led me to much research of what we should and shouldn't be eating that might be harming or helping our reproductive health. I have even gone so far as to shift my time away from work and spend more time cooking from scratch and packing the Wicketeer's lunches for him to take to work.

All that to explain why I am starting a new regular posting called Manic Monday Munchies! Sometimes it will be a recipe, and other times just a discussion about food.

We eat very little in the way of sweets, despite us each having a sweet tooth. This recipe for zucchini bread is one of the few I consider to be not only a side dish or breakfast item, but also a possible dessert, that I still make with regularity. My stepmom gave me this recipe, and I hope you enjoy it as much as we do!

Shelley's Zucchini Bread

• 2 cups sugar
• 1 cup vegetable oil
• 3 eggs
• 2 cups grated zucchini
• ¼ tsp baking powder
• ½ cup chopped nuts
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 3 cups sifted flour
• ¼ tsp salt
• 1 tsp soda
• ½ tsp nutmeg
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp allspice
• ½ tsp cloves

Mix all ingredients together until smooth using electric mixer. Bake in 2 greased loaf pans at 325 degrees for 1 hour. Let cool 10 minutes.

Makes 2 loaves.

A few notes:

• Make sure to use a vegetable oil and a pan-greaser (butter or vegetable shortening) with zero trans-fats.
• I have considered trying apple sauce in place of the vegetable oil in the recipe, but haven't done so yet. Let me know how it works out if you are brave enough to try it that way!
• I have tried substituting about half the flour with whole wheat flour to increase the amount of fiber, but the result can really vary as far as texture and such. Again, let me know what your ratio and results are if you try this substitution.

Wordless Wednesday: A series of delicate beauties

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.