Due

This past week marked a very sad milestone for our family. May 8th was my due date. I fully realize that if the pregnancy had continued on as normal, I'd still likely be pregnant, and not yet holding a baby in my arms. My babies tend to get quite comfy and only decide to join us after the 42 week mark. Nonetheless, it was my due date with my baby girl. I thought about taking the boys out and buying a pink balloon and filling it with helium and releasing it from Signal Hill. And then I thought about how long it would take that balloon to break down (thousands of years, probably) and that some fish or bird might swallow it and die and it didn't seem like such a nice idea after all. Instead I posted a picture of a pink balloon as my Facebook cover picture. I think a couple people may have gotten the point. My mom obviously didn't. I didn't feel like spelling it out for anyone.

In other (surprising) news, I have a new due date.

We found out this week that we're expecting again. Our due date is January 16th. I've taken eleventy billlion pregnancy tests thus far, and it's pretty conclusive. We're hopeful, but given our 50/50 success rate thus far, we're trying not to get too excited.

As always, we're hoping for a very healthy, uneventful pregnancy. This one though is starting off a bit differently. I had my first prenatal appointment yesterday with one of the residents at my doctor's office. My blood pressure was elevated quite a bit. Having never had blood pressure issues before (with the exception of a very temporary incident of "pregnancy induced hypertension" around 38 weeks with Jesse), this is quite disconcerting. Several of my reading were 140s/90s. They had me lie down for a bit and then rechecked and it was still up. I have to go back next week for another re-check. I worked last night and went to bed when I came home. When I got up my head was splitting and my BP was 150/98. I called the health line and they assured me it wasn't bad enough to go to the ER, but to check in with my doctor this week (which I obviously plan to do).

So, I'm kind of freaked out. I feel like this pregnancy is already getting off to a rough start. And I'm really concerned about what this might mean for my planned home birth.

For the time being, I guess it's just a waiting game.

Answers

Anyone who's lost a baby wants to know why. Especially since, in the back of your mind, you always wonder if it's something you did or didn't do that caused it.

After our D&C, the baby and placenta were sent to pathology for testing. The OB had been worried about possible partial molar pregnancy (tested negative though). Chromosomal abnormalities were also ruled out. So we still had no answers. I had looked up statistics on miscarriage and apparently, at the stage we were at, there was about a 0.6% chance of loss. Pretty tiny.

So for the past few months, I've been wondering if it was something perhaps I'd come into contact with at work that had caused us to lose our baby girl. Exposure to X-rays? Medications? Viruses? I'm generally quite careful, but there are times when you have a critically ill patient and something is needed really quick and precautions go out the window....

I'd never stopped to think that maybe there was something entirely different underlying all of this.

About a month ago my hair started falling out. I have difficulty sleeping. My mind is "foggy" much of the time. I have an intolerance to cold. A Naturopathic Doctor friend of mine suggested I might have hypothyroidism. I knew it wasn't impossible since I'd had some "borderline hypothyroid" issues (now that I have the results in my hand I know that I wasn't "borderline" at all) when Jesse was 10 months old (back in November 2008). So I went to the doctor and got a requisition for blood work. Went I went for follow-up, he said my results were normal.

When I showed my friend the results, she told me that they were indeed NOT normal. She provided me with links to the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists and the American Thyroid Association. Not only this hypothyroidism have caused the miscarriage, but it could very well be the cause of my secondary infertility. Which I've been dealing with since Jesse was a year old. It took 21 cycles to conceive Quinn and 17 cycles to conceive our baby girl. Apparently, hypothyroidism causes an increase in prolactin, which suppresses progesterone. Low progesterone can cause a luteal phase defect, which is what I have.

Of course, the next question is "where do we go from here?"

We do have a tentative plan in place. My friend is ordering a comprehensive blood panel to be shipped to a lab in Ontario that she frequently works with. Once I have those results, we'll be able to work on a treatment plan. I'm also going to go back to my own family doctor with AACE guidelines in hand, pertinent sections highlighted for him. Hopefully he'll see then that there's obviously something going on.

So we have something to go on and I'm determined to follow this through. I can't help but be bitter though. Maybe....maybe Carys would still be with us if this had been taken seriously back in 2008 and my thyroid issues had been treated. I still have a wicked case of the would-be's and should-be's.

Hanging in there

In Pregnancy and Infant Loss groups, "hanging in there" is code for "not great but not suicidal." It's what you say when someone asks how you're doing. Most of the time I'm just "hanging in there." Sometimes I'm happy. I laugh. I smile. Mostly at my kids and husband. But I still cry. More than I'd like to admit. I think about Carys all of the time. ALL.OF.THE.TIME. When I'm driving. When I'm cooking or washing the dishes or cleaning or doing laundry. When I'm lying awake at night. And I lie awake at night a lot.

It's been 14 weeks now since the D&C. I've now been not pregnant longer than I was pregnant. It seems like that should mean something. That I've healed and we're moving on. And we are. Or we're trying to. Moving on without her hurts though. I know I have to, but I really, really don't want to. It's like time is dragging me kicking and screaming into a future without my baby girl, like a mom drags her unruly toddler out to the car to get to whatever appointment they're already late for (a scene this family knows all too well). I know it's happening whether I want it to or not...just don't expect me to be happy about it.

The kids are adjusting well. For Christmas I arranged for them to have teddy bears with a recording of Carys's heartbeat inside. They love those bears. Jesse has actually taken his to school and to his home day care. I'm honestly not certain how it's been received, but he really treasures that bear. And I want him to be able to talk about the baby and know that it's OK to do so. He's told me he's going to keep his bear til he's "really old like Grampy." (Grampy is my grandfather.) Every so often Quinn comes up to me and asks if there's a baby in my belly. When I say "no" he says "baby died." "Yes Quinn, baby died." Then he gives me a kiss and a hug. He's really very sweet.

So, where do we go from here? We're trying again. It's incredibly stressful and daunting. Our last two pregnancies did not come easy for us. And while we're not over the hill, we no spring chickens either. If we get pregnant soon, assuming the pregnancy is healthy and I don't miscarry again, I'll be 34 when baby comes. If it takes a while to get knocked up, I'll be 35. I know a few months here or there don't make a huge difference, but being 35 earns you the label "advanced maternal age." I'd prefer to avoid that. I know I'm probably over-analyzing and over-thinking everything. But that's just what I do. I don't know how else to "be."

I really suck at writing. I never know how to end these posts. So I guess I'll just end it with the video for song that I've been listening to a lot lately. It's "Let Her Go" by Passenger.

It was a girl

I had my 6 week follow-up appointment today. Steve came with me. The OB read the reports and told us that they hadn't found anything chromosomally wrong with the baby. I asked if the report said whether it was a boy or a girl and she it did and asked if we wanted to know. I said yes, and she said, "it was a girl."

I was gutted.

I knew it was a girl, but having the confirmation just....I don't know....It hit me hard. Jesse knew our next baby would be a girl. He was certain. So certain that I had believed it too. And I wanted a girl so badly. Of course I'd have been perfectly happy with another boy. But now...knowing that we had our girl and lost her....I'm not sure where to go from here.

I want my baby girl back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edited later to add:

We named her Carys.

Derived from Welsh caru meaning "love".
 

Numb

That's what I am...the vast majority of the time. Even my skin feels numb...at least until someone touches it and then it feels like it's crawling.

I'm not sleeping well, so my doctor put me off work til November 25th.

I'm not eating well either. I feel no hunger or thirst. Even after all day. At least the morning sickness has gone now (that took 2 weeks).

I feel like I'm biding my time til genetics comes back. Not sure if we'll find out any more info or not. I'd love to hear that this was a 1 in a million freak occurrance, but I have a feeling we won't get such reassurance. Sometimes I feel like I really want to know the sex of the baby, and other times I'm not sure I could handle knowing.

I want to get a memory box or shadow box or something. We don't have much at all from this baby. Just our announcement picture, a bazillion pee sticks, the ultrasound picture, and a card a friend sent us. That's all we have to remind us of this little life that we had with us for 3 months.

One good thing has come of this anyways...I started a local Pregnancy and Infant Loss Group on Facebook. My hopes for it is 2-fold....to provide support to parents going through a loss, and also to try to effect change in how NL health authorities care for parents going through a loss. I know that second one is a lofty goal and it might take years, but I've got time.

This post fucking sucks

(Started November 3rd)

Sorry for the profanity, but it does.

The baby died.

The baby died and I didn't even know it.

I'd had some spotting about 3 weeks ago but it went away after a day. Baby still had a beautiful heartbeat. I was still green with morning sickness. I was showing. Quinn actually guessed that I was pregnant. "Mommy big belly! Baby belly?" So we bit the bullet and made our announcement. I figured out just how to do it too...I lined up all our padraig cottage slippers and added in the wee little infant ones I had bought before Quinn was born but never used. 

The boys were so excited. Nearly every day Quinn would rub my belly and  say "Hi baby!" right into my belly button. Jesse was certain it was a girl. He wouldn't hear tell of the baby being a boy. Very similar to how he acted when I was pregnant with Quinn and he wouldn't hear tell of the baby being a girl. He was right then.

I had some very slight spotting earlier this week as well. I had a prenatal appt on Tuesday and told the doctor about it. He didn't seem overly concerned. He asked if we wanted to try to find the heartbeat with the doppler. I said sure. He gave up after a minute or so though and said it wasn't unusual not to find it this early (nearly 13 weeks)...even though I'd been finding it at home with my own doppler since 9 weeks. I wasn't concerned either. Not really. I didn't think he was looking high enough. He offered an early u/s....mostly because I'd had a previous loss and he could tell I was a bit nervous, I think.

That night I tried at home to find the heartbeat. I spent a good half an hour trying. I had a sinking feeling, but I couldn't believe that it could be true. The next day around noon the ultrasound department called me and asked if I could come in at 1:30pm. The kids were at the sitters', so I said sure. Since it didn't seem like Steve would get the time off work, I asked my friend Diane to go with me. She picked me up less than an hour later.

We got there just in time, registered and waited. She brought her 4 week old little guy. I knew she would and honestly I was glad he was there. He was a good distraction.

We were called in quickly....more quickly than I remember from my previous pregnancies. I made a joke about peeing myself (from the liter of water I'd just chugged in the hour prior). Then I hopped up on the table and shimmied down my maternity pants. I held my breath as the ultrasound tech held the wand on my belly. I craned my neck at the screen and saw my baby. My beautiful, perfect baby. For a moment I prayed to a God I don't believe in that it wasn't true, but I knew it. My baby was still. The ultrasound tech didn't say a word. She just moved the wand back and forth for a few moments, taking measurements. Not once did I see the flickering heart I'd seen on Jesse's and Quinn's ultrasounds. I had to stop looking. All I could do was try not to cry. She then took some measurements of my ovaries and said she had to go talk to the radiologist. I told Diane the baby was gone. She knew it too.

The ultrasound tech came back after just a few minutes and told me to go on over to the family practice clinic and see my doctor. So we left and walked over to the clinic and checked in. I told them I'd just had an ultrasound and had been told to see my doctor. I didn't realize how long we'd have to wait for confirmation of what we knew to be true. We sat there, for over 2 hours, watching patients come and go. Eventually we were called into an exam room and told that the report wasn't posted yet and they hadn't been able to get ahold of the radiologist. I'm not sure about anyone else, but keeping a woman who's baby has died in suspense seems like cruel and unusual punishment.

A while later the doctor came back and somberly told me what I already knew. My baby was dead, and had been for probably about a week. It was measuring about 11 weeks 5 days on ultrasound. Knowing what I know about pregnancy loss, I knew that this wasn't it...I wasn't just going to be sent on my merry way to miscarry in peace at home. The next step was to talk about "what now?" Apparently the radiologist didn't like the look of the placenta. It looked "cystic." They were concerned about a partial molar pregnancy. D&C seemed like the best way to go. Dr. Dawe made an appt for me for the next morning at 11 with an OB at the Women's Health Clinic and then we left.

Steve had been texting me the whole time...wondering what was happening. I had to tell my husband over text that our baby had died. He left work early, picked up the kids, and met me at home.

The next day, Thursday, Halloween, we got to the hospital around 10am. I had bloodwork drawn and then checked in at the Women's Health Clinics. Being surrounded by hugely pregnant women complaining about how uncomfortable they were was not my idea of a good time. Thank God for iphones. At least we were able to block most of it out. Eventually I was called in and Dr. Cook came in. She was really sweet. We talked a bit about the ultrasound and how a D&C was probably the best option. She sent me on over the Dr. Kravitz's Early Pregnancy Assessment Clinic. I went over, had more bloodwork, and waited again.

I was called in. I told Steve to wait outside, since I knew I'd probably have to have a pelvic exam. I know he's seen it all before, but honestly, I wasn't sure how well I could hold it together if he was there too. I talked with Dr. Kravitz and with her nurse, Robin. They explained how I would be given fentanyl for pain and midazolam for sedation via IV during the procedure. Apparently they don't do D&C's under general anesthesia here. This scared me, but I'd heard from others that the midaz was quite effective at knocking you out. So I tried not to worry about it. Dr. Kravitz did a pelvic exam and placed a laminaria in my cervix to soften it and partially dilate it prior to the procedure. I started cramping right away. Then I left under instructions to pick up my prescrptions for antibiotics and cytotec and return in the morning at 7:45am at day surgery. Then we went home, got the kids ready for Halloween, Steve took them trick or treating around the neighbourhood, and then got them to bed.


(Continued November 11)
I didn't sleep well. I got up at 6 and showered. Steve got up and got the kids ready. I went to the hospital and checked in while he got Jesse to school and Quinn to the sitter. Steve joined me at the hospital and I was called in. I changed into a gown, got my IV started and waited. Then one of the nurses came to get me. I walked into the OR. It was the most surreal experience. There were a number of people there....the only ones I recognized were Robin and Dr. Kravitz. Someone helped me take off my "robe" (a backwards hosptial gown) and instructed me to hop up on the OR table. Someone helped me put my legs in the stirrups. For several minutes I laid there...my ass hanging out there for everyone to see. Then someone gave me fentanyl and midazolam through my IV.

I wish I could say I blacked out for what came next....but I didn't. I didn't even feel light-headed. I'm sure the fentanyl worked to a degree, but I still felt everything. I felt the scraping and the suctioning...The pain of the procedure mixed with the pain of losing a baby I had no idea I already loved this much was just too much. I started shaking and crying. They gave me more midaz and more midaz but it didn't make a difference. At the end the doctor whipped out the speculum and I cried out as the pain seared along my scar (from my previous births). Someone said, "It's OK, it's over now." But it wasn't OK.

They wheeled in a stretcher and helped me move over to it and then wheeled me into a very un-private curtained "room." They put a blood pressure cuff on my arm, but they couldn't get it on right (because it was getting tangled up with the sat monitor and the IV line) so they got a bigger one but put it on too loose to matter. Then they left me alone, peeking in through the curtain every few minutes and checking my bleeding every so often. I closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear. Someone said I'd need more time because I had extra doses of sedation....I wanted to laugh. It could have been saline for all the good it did me. After a while they went and got Steve, went over post-op instructions and then told me to get dressed and go home.

 *****

So now it's 10 days later. I've since heard from Dr. Dawe that the pathology report came back and the pregnancy was NOT partial molar. That's such a huge relief. The medical aspect of this loss was already enough...not sure I could have handled more. The other aspect of this whole ordeal that has made slightly more bearable is that Dr. Cook was able to get me a copy of an u/s picture of the baby, which I'm sharing here. This, and the audio recording we have of the heartbeat are really the only evidence that this baby existed.

I meant to return to work today, but I didn't sleep at all last night. I'm going to call my doctor's office in the morning and get a note. Hopefully I'll be able to return tomorrow night. I really don't want to go back. I still find it difficult looking people in the eye. I'm prone to breaking into tears at any moment. I feel like I need more time. I'm not sure what it is I'm waiting for....the emptiness to go away maybe. I'm sure that'll take a while. I know we'll try again, and I do hope this little spirit will come back to us. I'm not sure how I'll feel whole or complete again if it doesn't.