Permission to stop with the progesterone-Approved.
Go back Monday for ultrasound, *hopefully* the final beta and What The Fuck meeting with Dr. G.
If any one needs me-you’ll know where I’ll be.
Permission to stop with the progesterone-Approved.
Go back Monday for ultrasound, *hopefully* the final beta and What The Fuck meeting with Dr. G.
If any one needs me-you’ll know where I’ll be.
she was squinting and tweaking and torturing her bladder.
Sadly she’s still there.
To make matters worse, the Heroine’s husband looked at the line up of the cycles pee sticks (just below) and said “so when will we know definitively that we are pregnant?” forcing the Heroine to cut him with a shiv.
Yesterday was most definitely the best day I’ve had as far as rising HCG levels (as predicted with things I pee on because my doctor is a fucking asshole) in my reproductive history. I was rewarded nicely because each time I tested it was noticeably darker than the previous test, with less than 8 hours between each test. I even got all reckless with this new crazy super power I had and was quickly knocked back down to reality just before bed when I dipped one of those fancy $8 digital tests and got this…
Which of course made me wonder if I can’t flip one of those to “pregnant” at 11dpo-and these usually flip around 15hcg-then I’m fucked. How am I going to get to 100hcg by Monday morning (anything less than 100hcg by 14 dpo has a horribly high rate of miscarriage) if I’m only around 10hcg??? HCG levels double if they are healthy every 48 hours-a double of 10 only gets me to 20 by sunday and 30 by Monday morning-that’s a miscarriage for sure. I tell you all of this because I know most of you don’t live in the world I do. Most of you are under the assumption that congrats are in order-and that this is great. Well it’s not. Implantation happens all the time for me-but never since I lost Ava has it ever finished-which is why I am walking around waiting for the other shoe to drop. If this mornings test had been leaps and bounds above yesterday’s then maybe-perhaps maybe I would feel differently-but here-have a look for yourself-they are damn near identical!!!!
Now here’s where this gets weird. Here’s the side by side comparison of the digitial tests for those 2 strips above-they were both dipped into the same sample-
Yep fascinating hunh? I want to be normal. I want to be so fing thrilled that I’m facebooking stupid quasi cryptic shit. Instead-what I’ve know subconsciously for the past 3 days, that this cycle is in big trouble-I will now stop clinging to “there’s a line on my pee stick and the digi says I’m pregnant” hope and let that thought finally wash into my conscience.
Well, yesterday was nice at least.
but not with pride, happiness and disbelief of how lucky I am-instead with frustration, sorrow, fear and a whole lotta rage.
Like pummel the shit out of a pee stick type of rage.
Only I’ve done that before (click here if you don’t believe me), so I want to..ugh, I don’t know what-but I want to that’s for sure!
Without further adieu…
Introducing (yet again) my repetetive, monthly bundle o sorrow…
Our doctors orders after last months miscarriages was to prevent conception this cycle so that we could have the slew of recurrent pregnancy loss tests done 6 weeks after testing negative for pregnancy from that cycle. Well since I’m not wired to “not try” unless the ramifications are “its bad for the baby if you get pregnant” or “you will die”-we decided to map out the potential scenarios (being the logical thinking people we are) we figured there were only 4 ways it could go…
1. Try to get pregnant on our own, not get pregnant (woah big shocker there) and go into the tests at 6 weeks post with a clear conscience knowing we didn’t “miss out” on anything.
2. Try to get pregnant on our own, get pregnant, have it miscarry (adding even more validity behind my stance that there’s something wrong with me) and then have to wait 6 more weeks before being able to run the tests.
3. Try to get pregnant on our own, get pregnant and have it be a healthy pregnancy ending in a live, take home baby.
4. Don’t try to get pregnant, then spend the rest of my days wondering if we missed the only good cycle that could have turned into a take home healthy baby only to have tests run that might tell me ABSOLUTELY nothing.
I’m sure I don’t even really need to tell you what option we choose, because by this point, you all know I want nothing more than to get the f off this ride ASAP, so if course, we tried.
And as it turns out-Option # 1 it was.
So now on to yet another natural cycle while we continue to wait to be able to take the tests and get the results back so that we can finally know if there is anything wrong with me and get on to planning our next assisted cycle. However, after my freak out last month I might have demanded a second hysteroscopy while screaming about fibroids and scar tissue… so for me this cycle includes ANOTHER fabulous hysteroscopy (click here for the deets from Novembers fun) for me sometime in the next week.
Yaaaayyyyyyyy for me!
Just Ugh. I haven’t been back here in so long because I have been avoiding all of this shit because it makes me severely frustrated, and sad. So sad because I really do believe my chances of carrying a healthy pregnancy to term is slim to none and slim died last week. I have so much to bring you all up to date on-I don’t even know where to begin. I guess I will start with the douche nurse appointment on the 5th of May, the subsequent phone call I received in the afternoon while I was drugged up on xanax from DN after I lost my shit that morning and finish with the WTF appointment I had on the 16th of May which was essentially a waste of my time.
Even though I requested the Recurrent Pregnancy Loss workup after my miscarriage back in December (at that point I think everyone would unanimously agree I had had my second miscarriage considering how I was testing positive for pregnancy, and then I wasn’t before I delivered a healthy baby). I was denied that request and even told “that there is no reason for alarm.” I stupidly didn’t think to tell them I won’t take no as an answer to my request and to run the damn tests anyways, instead I believed them -I guess part of me wanted to believe them because then that means there is no reason for alarm, right? At the very least I should have at least questioned them to see what would be the red flag that would have them alarmed enough to run this screen. I hate myself for not asking that question because then I would have lost my shit 5 months ago and had the test done regardless of what they thought.
Turns out the reason they didn’t run the Recurrent Pregnancy Loss (RPL) tests in December was because they didn’t consider my December miscarriage an actual miscarriage because in their opinion it was so early that it didn’t “count.” Apparently a woman needs to have no less than 2 miscarriages, not 1 miscarriage and an early miscarriage-in order to be screened for recurrent pregnancy loss. Even though I had had a prior miscarriage at 9 weeks before Ava, December’s miscarriage to them was a non event. That piece of information that I was told on the phone by douche nurse after our last lovely meeting was enough to make me actually hang up the phone and throw up.
A non event? A non mother fucking event?
That mother fucking “non event” sent me spiraling through hell-to the depths of which I still have not recovered and even put my shit on anti-depressants in an attempt to right myself.
When I reminded douche nurse of their current track record of denying me tests I’ve requested and they turn out to be wrong, and I turn out to be correct…like the hysteroscopy that I demanded even though they said “no you don’t need it”-that I had to fight to get an appointment for-which found a cervix full of scar tissue (score Brooke 1, Docs 0), and the miscarriage work up that I requested after the second loss in December that was denied which very well could have prevented last months #3 and #4 losses (score Brooke 2, Docs 0) she had nothing to say to that except that I could take a meeting with the doc on the 16th (again more waiting).
So I waited, thinking that there would be some magical something or other said to me to put my fears to rest and instill faith, but alas-no such luck. In a nutshell we have to have tests run to find out 2 things…
1. Are our chromosomes fucked up and creating embryos that will miscarry because they aren’t chromosomally sound (in 1 in 20 couples this is the cause of their RPL).
2. Is there something wrong with my body that is essentially responsible for killing a chromosomally sound embryo every time it implants into my uterus of death.
Because of my history of 4 miscarriages and 1 pregnancy that was terminated because it was non-viable (which as my recent research has sadly turned up-an issue with #2 above is actually associated with neural tube defects in pregnancies which is exactly what was wrong with Ava-her chromosomes were perfect) my chances of miscarrying the next pregnancy I have is close to 60%. Great.
We have already had the chromosome testing done (still waiting on results that wont be in for 2 more weeks). On the upside, if it shows that there is an issue with our chromosomes that is responsible for the RPL, because Ava had perfect chromosomes, we have proof that we can in fact make a healthy chromosome embryo. We will be able to use preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) which is a way for couples to prevent a pregnancy affected by a genetic condition or chromosomal disorder. This form of genetic testing is insanely expensive and would be performed on our embryos during an in vitro fertilization (IVF) cycle. All of the embryos that are created after retrieval are analyzed and only the ones found to be normal are transferred into my uterus, where, hopefully, they will implant rather than miscarry and result in the birth of a healthy child (please for the love of all things holy and my sanity).
I am still waiting to be allowed to take the battery of tests to see if something is wrong with my body that is essentially responsible for killing a chromosomally sound embryo every time it implants into my uterus of death. I am not allowed to have my blood drawn until I have been NOT pregnant for 6 weeks. It looks like that date will be June 16th, as I am 12 days past ovulation now and currently not testing pregnant so I believe this cycle will end with my period. It takes about 1 week to get the blood results back on this battery of tests:
-Antithrombin III functional
-Factor V Leiden
-Antiphospholipid abs/anticardiolipin abs
-Protein C activity
-Protein S Functional
-Factor II DNA-Prothrombin Gene Mutation
Unlike the clean cut results of the chromosome test, (and an actual solution albeit expensive) the above screening can show various degrees of issues with my blood clotting and or immune system-but essentially to put it into easy to understand terms-unless I am fucked up enough to be allowed to take a blood thinner called Heparin as soon as I test positive for my next pregnancy, there is absolutely nothing that can be medically corrected to stop my Uohdee from its murderous rampaging. I honestly don’t believe Heparin will help my ass as most docs won’t even fill your prescription for it until you are 14 days past ovulation-and for the most part Uohdee has already killed or begun killing by then. But hey, what do I know? The docs are always right, (score Brooke 2, Docs 0) aren’t they? Hahahahahahahahah.
So needless to say-that is why we left that appointment 2 weeks ago feeling that chances were very high that we are going to be that sad couple that has no kids simply because their shits fucked up. That is why I haven’t had the heart to come back here an explain everything-cause once you put it out there you can’t take it back. It was horribly crushing, and honestly, it still kinda is. Although we have had a friend offer to attempt to carry a child for us, until she has been medically vetted and has the stamp of approval to be a gestational carrier for us and is 20 weeks pregnant with what appears to be a healthy baby of ours-I will spend more time than I will even admit here thinking that I will not ever have that experience that seems so easy for every other mother out there-of looking at her child and recognizing parts of her, her family, her husband or her husbands family as I raise that child for the rest of my life. I’m sorry, but there truly is nothing that can replace that in one’s life.
Yes, I’m sure you can adopt-blah blah blah-but unless you’ve adopted a genetic offspring from your family that also happened to marry a part of your husbands family-there is no way to replace that. I don’t just want to raise a child. I want to feel MY baby move inside of me, give birth to MY healthy baby and spend the rest of my life raising MY child. I want what I want, adoption isn’t what I want.
Just wish it was as easy for me as it is for every other woman out there.
Ever have that moment when you realize you just don’t have any more hope left inside you? Especially when you had noticed that your hope reserves were running dangerously low from using your hope all willy nilly for the past 2 and a half years so you decided to clamp down on the usage of hope. After noticing that you were almost empty, you begin only dipping into the hope supply when it was really warranted and making sure to take every precautionary measure to ensure that you didn’t waste all of your allotted hope on something that wasn’t worthy of hope.
Well I have no worries about that anymore, because one can not ration what one does not have. I came to the sad, stark realization when I finally saw 2 lines (twice last cycle), and I looked at them and tried to conjure up that feeling of hope as I scrummaged around in the deep recesses of my heart and brain and even checked in the cracks to see if some slipped in there-and that’s when I realized– nope, there simply is no hope left in here.
I can hold Hope in my hand, but no longer in my heart.
That is the saddest part.
“Fight Club was the beginning, now it’s moved out of the basement, it’s called”…my life.
Douche Nurse (DN) bubbly yelling over my head in the lobby to the happy little couple as they were leaving the center proudly displaying their sonogram of their healthy 12 week in utero fetus: “Everything looks just perfect!! I hope you enjoy your first Happy Mother’s Day!”
DN (while holding the door open for me to head into the office): “Hi Brooke, How are you?”
Me: “That’s the single most inappropriate and compassion-less question to ask a woman who just witnessed yet another couple experiencing her dream when you know that she is currently miscarrying twins on her 4th failed pregnancy after 28 months of trying to conceive her first healthy take home baby.”
DN: awkward silence as we continue down the hall and she motions for me to take a seat in the chair. “Would you guys like to meet with our counselor, I can understand how hard this must be.”
Me: “Why, would taking another meeting with her get me pregnant with a healthy baby that my body won’t reject any faster?”
DN: “Well no, but you know sometimes this just doesn’t happen for everyone, no matter how hard they try, and you might have to accept that reality.”
Yes ladies and gentleman-the nurse actually said those words to my face. Verbatim.
Me: on the verge of punching her in her face so I say through clenched teeth while squeezing the shit out of my stress ball to prepare for the hack job she’s getting ready to do on my veins because she is THE WORST blood drawer I have ever encountered in my 35 years of life… “Sometimes I find that the this place has the most insensitive and inept nurses I have ever encountered and I tend to leave here wondering how its possible that they are actually capable of dressing themselves and driving to work, never mind drawing blood and reading notes from doctors with such little apparent mental functioning. Tell me, did you actually complete schooling for this degree in douche baggery or is it something that comes naturally to those with very low IQ’s?”
DN: “Of course I went to school.”
Me: “I don’t care to talk to you any longer. Just take my blood and try not to leave a bruise covering my entire forearm like you have every single other time you’ve taken it over the past 8 months.
DN: keeping her mouth shut because she at least has enough intelligence to realize I’m fucking bullshit and fed up, she proceeds to fumble around on both of my arms looking for the most promising vein to destroy…
Me: to fill in the awkward silence and because I am not done being really angry yet-“Also, let Marcia know that I will email her this week the battery of diagnostic tests for recurrent peri-implantation pregnancy loss, you know, the ones I asked to have run on us last October and that I was told “no, there is no reason to do those tests.” I would like those complete before I meet with the doctor on the 16th so that we are actually able to have a productive meeting opposed to the current deny what the patient wants and sit around on our asses and wait plan you have me on.”
DN: “Oh well, we’ll have to wait until your beta test comes back to see if you are negative yet, and then start the count down because those types of tests can’t be done on you until you have been testing negative for pregnancy for at least 6 weeks.”
Me: “First off, no need to wait, I can tell you without a blood test that my beta is 5 or less-which is clinically not pregnant-and it has been since yesterday. So go ahead and jot that date down, not todays. Also try to remember when my results come back later today proving that I know, YET AGAIN, exactly what my beta number is without having my blood drawn, with 100% accuracy. And I’m sorry, but I simply don’t believe you know what you are talking about as far as the tests I want run. And I will no longer accept “No” as an answer when I ask for any diagnostic test. Your track record so far has proved that when it comes to knowing what’s going on with me and anticipating how I will respond, you are wrong every time, and I am right. I clearly understand that I am the patient, not the doctor, but trust me when I tell you there isn’t a soul walking this planet that will do the necessary research and advocate for my reproductive care half as well as I will. Because I know that at the end of each cycle when my husband and I are left devastated as I am flushing another failed implantation, time, and LOTS of money literally down our toilet, that the staff here are blissfully going about their happy little lives at home with their children. My failed cycle just means more of my money in your pocket because I will have to come back here again. I suspect if it were you crying on the toilet while you were bleeding out of your vagina for the 11th straight day we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
DN: “Look I understand…”
Me: “Stop. I don’t care what you think you understand, I’m telling you, you don’t. You have treated me in a manner that lacks compassion for the last time and I am done with you. I will correspond with Marcia directly and she will discuss what I want with my doctor.”
This time I stormed out of there. Learning from my last freak out, I let the auto door close this time. Then I kicked it. Then I left.