Remembering Our Losses

October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I have long followed various blogs of people who have lost pregnancies as well as infants, and of course some of our closest friends had a daughter who was stillborn last year. However, aside from a moment or two of pause that I've given to the memory of those babies, October 15th has always been just another day to me. Maybe that's because I wasn't as sensitive to loss as I should have been. Maybe it's because it just wasn't that personal to me. Either way, that has changed. October 15th is very personal to me now. 

After losing B3 at the beginning of this year, I began attending a support group called MEND (Mommies Enduring Neonatal Death). My attendance has actually been pretty sporadic as it's very hard for me to convince myself to go. The meetings are heavy, and I often have trouble sleeping the night of the meeting. It's hard to confront my own feelings of loss, but it's also intense to watch others grieve and weep over their lost babies. 

However, the meetings have also been very healing for me in many ways. It's such a blessing to have a place to go and talk about my grief and my feelings and have everyone in the room understand exactly what I'm talking about because they too have traveled this road of loss. It's also been very valuable for me to see others in different stages of their journey. My deep grief has been validated, but I've also been able to see those who are 2 or 3 years "out" and are functioning in a new normal. They can talk about their loss, see the blessings in their journey, and they are okay. Forever changed, yes. But okay. I needed that especially in the early days after my losses.

As a side-note: Had you told me a year ago that I would be attending a support group, I'm pretty sure I would have never believed it. I've never thought of myself as a support group type person (whatever that means), and I don't mean that in an arrogant or haughty way - I just never saw myself in this place. It's something no one signs up for, ya know?

So anyway (I totally rambled on for a bit there), MEND hosted a balloon release to honor lost babies on October 15th. Chris participated in this event with me, and - though it was difficult - we're both glad that we went. 

We each released a balloon for each of our lost babies.

All of the balloons floating away were really beautiful.

We each wrote on our balloon released for B3. We just had such a connection with that baby. We had seen him/her 3 times on an ultrasound. We had spent weeks planning for him/her in our life. We had talked about names. Our second loss was very different as we hadn't seen that baby or bonded with it in the same way, so we didn't write on the balloons released for him/her. But, we still wanted to remember and honor that life. 

It felt really good to be able to do something in honor of those babies. Grieving someone who you never got the chance to really know is hard. Sometimes, I feel foolish for being so sad, but I'm truly thankful for the blessing of groups like MEND where I can go and share with others experiencing the same things.

I know I've been talking about grief on here a lot lately, but there's so much that we're still trying to work through, including how to move forward from where we are now. Our trials with infertility and loss has not dampened our dream of having a houseful of babies. Both Chris and myself still wish to have more children one day, but we're taking time to really pray about how to pursue that desire. Right now, we're thinking about starting fertility treatments again sometime during the early part of 2014, but we're not for sure yet. We are still recovering from the nearly $10,000 spent this year for the fertility treatments that helped bring us B3 and July Baby and the testing that I had to have done in May (which we thought was mostly covered by insurance only to be hit with a $1800 bill in late September).

With that said, we have received some pretty negative feedback regarding us continuing to grow our family. We've heard things like "Can't you just be happy with what you have?" and "You have a girl and a boy already" and "Don't be greedy". Though I don't feel like I owe anyone an explanation regarding this issue, I do want to clarify a few things.

One thing is that we are so happy with our two blessings. We know how blessed we are to have them. In the six years we spent trying to have a baby, we had the very real conversation (several times) about the possibility that we may never have children (biological or otherwise), so we THANK and PRAISE GOD every day for how He has blessed us. If we were not to be blessed with additional children, we would still live a content, abundant, joy filled life.

That fact does not, however, take away our heart's desire for more babies. For me, that desire has been especially strong over the past few months. I really, truly thought that I would be pregnant again at this point in the year, so the fact that I'm not (and may never be again . . . I don't take the fact that I can even achieve pregnancy again for granted) is a grief process of its own. There have been several times recently that I have heard a pregnancy announcement (or come across it on my FB feed) and my heart has physically clenched. That physical reaction to an emotional wound is not unfamiliar to me (it happened often during those years of trying for a baby before having one), but it stills stings. That's not to say that I'm not happy for those friends - or that I wish they were on this same road that I am - I'm just sad for me. They are two emotions that I feel simultaneously - the happiness for others and sadness for myself. I'm sad that my dream has had to change and may have to change even more. Realizing how blessed we are does not change our dream. Maybe you don't understand that, and that's okay. I just want everyone to know that we give God the glory for our two beautiful blessings, knowing that He is the true giver of life, while we look to Him for wisdom regarding how to pursue {or rewrite} our dream.

Also, just because we were blessed with a girl and a boy does not automatically make our family complete. I posted about this once before here. I feel the same now as I did then.

Okay, that all just kind of came tumbling out. Ooops :-). As always, thanks for all your support.

The Details: Part Six

Just in case you missed them . . .

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five



Okay, it's time to wrap up this very, very long story. When I first began writing this, I had no idea where it would end up going. Which is probably a good thing. Had I known, I may have never started sharing it with you, and I'm so glad that I have record of it. It's amazing how blurry the details are in my mind already, and it's a story that I don't want to forget. Except that some days, I do.

After being told that our baby was gone (actually, the PA's exact words were "there is no fetus" which really got all over me. Maybe I was just being sensitive, but in my head I screamed, "It's not a fetus, it is my baby!!!"), I was sent home to wait while my body continued to expel the pregnancy and all that entailed. I was SO THANKFUL that my mom was here with me as this was an extremely painful (and, at times, debilitating) process. I had no idea how painful a miscarriage can be. And, since I was still recovering from being very sick, I was just extremely weak and tired. There was no way that I would have been able to care for myself and my two babies by myself while this was all taking place. Chris had been off work for about a week due to the holidays and our whole family being sick, so he really really needed to be at the office. My mom being here allowed him to do what he needed to do to fulfill his responsibilities as well.

However, my mom was also sick, so her ability to take care of all of us was pretty limited for the first 2 days she was here. So, my sister also came and stayed with us. She (my sister) pretty much took care of all the kids (her daughter and my two) while my mom and I took care of ourselves. Again, I can't say enough how grateful I am that they were both here. My mom is so good at caring for other people. She just does things that need to be done without me ever having to ask, yet she also respects boundaries. I know how blessed I am to have such a wonderful Mom.

Those first few days were rough. I mean really rough. Physically, it was bad, but mentally it was way worse. My mind just kept going back to this precious little baby over and over and over again. Our B3.

I wasn't sleeping at night. I wasn't sleeping during the day. I would go in my room to take a nap and not be able to relax. I would close my eyes and see my baby. My mind would become overtaken with thoughts of "How could this be my story?" and "Will I ever carry another child again?" and "Will my heart ever feel like it's not suffocating?". I'm normally the type of person that if I have two hours to take a nap, I can sleep for an hour and 59 minutes. But I just couldn't. My mind wouldn't let me. And sometimes, I would finally relax only to have a "spell" of physical pain and cramping hit. I was so heartsick I couldn't even eat. It was a dark time.

On Thursday evening, I decided that I needed to put the news on FB and on here. I didn't want to - what I really wanted to do was ignore it altogether - but I was still receiving private messages of congratulations from people who were just hearing our joyous announcement. So, I put it out there on social media, and that was hard too. Putting it into writing just made it seem that much more real.

As the weekend progressed, I began to feel better and better. This is our family on Sunday morning before church:

I still wasn't feeling great, but I was feeling like I could function. And not a moment too soon either. My mom was leaving to go back home and so I would be on my own once again. I thought I would be okay (and for the most part, I was), but it was harder than I thought it would be. I was still in pain, still weak, and had a ton of trouble concentrating on anything.

On Tuesday, January 8th, I went to back to see my doctor for a follow-up appointment. The appointment started off really badly when his nurse asked me if we knew what we were having yet or if this was our gender reveal appointment. Chris and I were already thisclose to not being able to hold ourselves together, so this did not help! I know it was an honest mistake, but seriously. So. bad. When Dr. N came in the room, he was very calm and very gentle with me. He is normally a whirlwind, so this was a side of him that I've not seen often. We talked for a bit about how uncommon a miscarriage is for someone in my situation (13 weeks, heard/saw heartbeat 3 times, no previous losses, etc), and he said that my chances of miscarriage were less than 5%. Wow. He would not agree with me that we lost the baby because I had been sick, but I personally still think that is what happened. I think that my body just couldn't handle everything that was going on. However, it really doesn't matter, so I try not to dwell on what happened exactly too much. We'll never know and knowing doesn't change anything anyway.

Dr. N then did an ultrasound and discovered that I still had "a lot of debris" (his words . . . and he did clarify that he meant no disrespect by using that word.) He explained that there were bits of placenta, and blood, and tissue, and just "stuff" that was unidentifiable, and that I was at a very high risk for infection at that point. Old blood plus debris plus dead tissue equals breeding ground for infection. This was not what we wanted to hear. I know it was written all over my face, so he told me to get dressed and he'd be back in to discuss options.

When he came back in, he said that he highly recommended a D&C. UGH. I was so upset. WHY did I just suffer through a WEEK of pain and feeling horrible if I was going to have a D&C anyway??? The thought that I went through all of that for nothing . . . that this could have been over with a week ago . . . that I was going to have to go under anyway for a procedure . . . it just upset me so much. And Dr. N understood this. He said that he hated that I went through all that and this process was dragging out so long. He told me I should have called him and we would have worked something out, but I didn't know. I've never been through this before and I didn't know that what I was going through wasn't normal. Megan said my pain and discharge would be up to TEN TIMES that of a normal period. That's A LOT. He basically said that he wished he would have called me because he never would have made me go through what I did.

So, my D&C was scheduled for Wednesday, January 9th, and I left Dr. N's office feeling so defeated. I honestly think that this was the hardest day for me. All of the exhaustion and frustration and sadness of the past 8 days just hit me, but the shock wasn't there to buffer it. Things had gone back to "normal" in our world (company had gone home, phone calls/texts had died down, cards had stopped coming, etc), but I was still stuck in this nightmare. It was all going to be over soon - and while I was relieved by that prospect - I was also heartbroken. It seemed so final. I was scared. And, like I said, I felt defeated. So down. So disappointed in how things were turning out. I felt like my body had failed (once again). I can't conceive on my own. I couldn't carry this baby. And now, I couldn't even miscarry right. Now, I know that these thoughts weren't really rational. I can see that now. At the time though? I was too emotional to see that.   Things just looked so bleak to me.

Chris and I arrived at the hospital bright and early the next morning for the procedure. My sister came and stayed with my kiddos. I was scheduled to have the D&C at 9:00am, but Dr. N didn't end up being available until close to 10:30am. He visited with me for a bit - eased my mind about what was getting ready to happen - and away I went into surgery. After the procedure, he told Chris that my uterus had really shrunk back down already so the surgery was harder than he thought it would be. However, he was able to get everything cleaned out and not a moment too soon as much of what he extracted was black (meaning infection was setting in). I was awake within the hour and on my way home shortly after that. I did take some pain meds that made me quite loopy that day, and honestly it was so nice. It was the first mental reprieve that I had gotten since this had all began, and I needed it. I spent the rest of the day napping and letting my mind REST.

By Thursday morning (the next day), I was feeling really good. Better than I had in weeks, in fact. I was still weak and tired, but the pain was gone. I did continue to spot for about two weeks, but it was very light. Over the course of the next week, I got physically better every day. However, mentally I was still struggling quite a bit. Sleep was still hard. I was running on caffeine and junk food as my appetite was still lacking. The TV was being used too much as a babysitter in our house. I would just sit and become entranced in my thoughts in the middle of the day. I was distracted. My kids were definitely not getting the best of their Mommy at this point in time. I allowed myself to be like this for a little while, but we had a D&C follow-up appointment scheduled for the following Thursday (January 17th) and I told myself that that was it. After that appointment, I had to engage in life again. I had to get dressed. Schedule a playdate. Do things with the kids. Eat better. Take care of me so I could take care of them.

At our follow-up appointment, Dr. N was great. He came in and just stood by me and patted and rubbed my back (in a very paternal type way). I couldn't have been more impressed with how sensitive and gentle he was with me, but at the same time he took care of business. I have thanked God many times for the blessing of a good doctor. I checked out healthy at this appointment, and as I left Dr. N said, "I hope to see you back soon." Although I'm not sure where we stand with that yet, it was nice to feel like he's rooting for us.

So, what's next? We don't know. Chris and I have talked very briefly about trying again, but I am really dragging my feet about it right now. I know that I'm just not ready to go down that road. If we didn't have to do fertility treatments . . . I may feel differently about it. Or not. I don't know. My biggest fear with fertility treatments used to be a failed cycle, but now the thought of a successful cycle is way scarier to me. What if we have another loss? I just know that {right now} I am not ready to take that risk. My heart isn't ready yet. It's a strange place for me to be because for the last 10 years I've been desperate to be pregnant, and I don't feel that way right now. Part of me fears that I may never feel that way again. I mean, who am I if I'm not desperate to be pregnant and yearning for a houseful of babies?

We've been praying about this a lot. I pray specifically for wisdom and patience as I grieve and heal and move forward. I pray for grace for the hard times and gratitude in the better times. I pray that I'll learn the lessons I need to learn from this experience. I pray that my journey will bring glory to God. I pray that no matter what, I will always recognize the blessings that have been showered upon me and not take those two beautiful babies I have on earth with me for granted. Ever.

We'll see what the future holds for us. In the meantime, we're striving to make each day count as we seek God's will in our life.

The Details: Part Five

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four


I was going to try and make this my last "Details" post, but it ended up being way too long. So, there will be a Part Six.

After switching to Chris's car because the battery was dead on my car, we headed to my friend Angie's school to drop Brianna off. I had asked Angie to watch Bri for us while we went to the ultrasound, and she was working in her classroom at school (she's a teacher) when I called. She was more than willing to go home to watch Bri, but it was easier for everyone to just drop Bri off at the school. That way, Angie could work and Brianna would have plenty to do (and there were no kids there . . . they were still on Winter Break). At this point, Angie was one of the 3 people who knew what was going on. I didn't want to tell anyone anything until we knew for sure, but I had texted a bit with my mom about the bleeding, we told Lisa (my sister) who was at our house watching Brenson for us, and I told Angie since she was watching Bri.

We got to the appointment with just a few minutes to spare. I was still feeling awful. I was incredibly weak, lightheaded, had major head congestion, cough, and a sore throat. Stevie (Dr. N's nurse) had told me that I would be seeing Megan, Dr. N's PA and not actually Dr. N (he was performing surgery). Either way was fine by me. I just wanted to get some answers.

The nurse (not Stevie, the other one and I don't know her name so I'll just call her Nurse) did the usual drill of getting my blood pressure, weight, etc. She then had me tell her all about what happened. I'm not sure why though? Megan had me retell her everything when she came in. I was surprisingly relaxed when Megan began the ultrasound. I closed my eyes for it because I was very afraid of seeing a lifeless baby on the screen. After a few minutes of silence as Megan moved the wand around, she simply said, "I'm sorry, there is no fetus." Just thinking about those words make my stomach a little sick even now. I didn't get emotional at all in that moment. I just looked at Megan and then to the ultrasound screen where I just saw a bunch of undefined "stuff". I said, "So I passed the baby already?" and Megan replied, "Yes, I'm so sorry." She then told me to get dressed and she would be back in to talk to me.

I was so stoic at this point as I got dressed. Chris was very emotional, but I just couldn't go there. I had information to gather and questions to ask and I just couldn't let myself feel anything in that moment. I wonder what Nurse and Megan thought of me? I wonder if they think I didn't care or if they think I didn't want my baby or what. Of course, that wasn't the case at all, but I was probably giving off that message.

When Megan came back in the room, she didn't have a whole lot of information. She told me that I should expect more bleeding. She said that it will probably be painful. I asked if the bleeding would be anything like it was the night before, and she said yes. She told me that the pain and bleeding could be up to ten times what a normal period is. This was shocking to me, but when she offered to write me a script for narcotic pain meds, I knew that I could expect some serious pain again. I turned down the script, but did ask about a D&C. I really just wanted it to be over at this point. She said that since I had started this process naturally, that they (meaning she and Dr. N) thought that I should continue it naturally. I really didn't get this at all. Did she know how tired I was? How weak I felt? That I had been sick for a week and was still sick? Didn't she know that my heart was broken??? But, I just said okay and we left. Actually, before we left I got a Rhogam shot because I'm a negative blood type.

On the way out, I scheduled a follow-up appointment for Tuesday, January 8th. I still hadn't cried, but as soon as Chris and I were alone in the car the tears started flowing. We sat there for several minutes and just cried together. We were so brokenhearted. We wanted this baby so badly, and already loved him/her so much. After a few minutes, we headed to Sonic for a drink. On the way there, Chris told me that my mom had texted during the appointment to say that she was on her way to our house (she lives about 2 1/2 hours away). We decided to not call her and tell her the news while she was driving, and just to tell her when she arrived at our house. Of course, she pretty much knew anyway and that was why she was coming. I also decided to wait until we got back to the house to tell my sister. I knew that telling people over the phone would be so hard. My plan actually didn't work out as someone called the house before we got home (and yes, I felt horrible about this).

The first person I did call was my brother. I just cried as I told him that we had lost the baby, and he became emotional as well. At this time, my dad was on a mission trip in Mexico, so my brother asked me if I had told my dad yet. I hadn't because I just didn't know if I should. I mean, he was in Mexico and my instinct was to tell him, but I just wasn't sure. Jeremy (my brother) offered to take care of telling my dad and I was SO relieved. I just don't know that I could have called and told him myself.

After getting something to drink, we headed across town to get Brianna (remember that we had to take her to Dr. F's office to make sure she was okay since she had also been sick for almost a week). On the way there, I called my friend Tia and told her. That was a very hard call to make. Tia and her husband lost their baby at 38 weeks last May, and I was so afraid that this would bring up too many hard emotions for them. She was shocked when I told her, and decided to meet us at Dr. F's office right then.

When I went in to Angie's school to get Brianna, I tried really hard to put on a happy face for my child. I didn't want Brianna to be scared. I mouthed to Angie that the baby was gone when I first walked in her room, then concentrated on my little girl. She was such a ray of sunshine in that moment . . . so excited to have spent several hours at school playing and exploring. I was so thankful to have her with us in that moment. I asked Angie if she would tell our other close friends. I just couldn't sit and make phone call after phone call to let people know what happened. I felt bad for not telling several of my close friends personally, but I just couldn't. While I ran into the school to get Bri, Chris called his mom and told her. He had such a hard time with this and was so emotional. In hindsight, I am very thankful that I saw him really break down about B3, even though it was hard at the time because since then, he hasn't been near as emotional about it as I have. It helps reassure me that we are on the same page even if we are manifesting it differently.

We headed over to Dr. F's office with Brianna, and at this point I was beginning to feel some cramp-like pain again. It wasn't bad, but it was definitely there. Chris took Bri in to her appointment as I was still just feeling so weak and generally "icky". Tia drove over to Dr. F's office from her work, so I sat in her car with her during Bri's appointment. Oh, and Bri was okay. There was nothing major going on . . . just a nasty virus that had to run its course (and she was on the up-side of it by this time). Tia and I just sat and talked and cried and it was SO good to have her there. It had been eight months and one day since I had sat with her at the hospital and talked and cried about her precious baby, and while our situations are different, we both felt a deep, heartbreaking sense of loss. I honestly don't remember a lot of what we talked about, but I do remember her telling me that she would spread the word to our church family. I remember because it was exactly what I had done for her 8 months previous, and I just felt like it was so wrong that two friends had to carry that burden for one another. At the same time, I felt so blessed that she was there to carry that burden. A double-edged sword, no doubt.

As we were driving home, I began to feel increasingly more and more pain. The closer we got to home, the more the pain was coming and going like contractions and the more painful it was becoming. By the time we got home, I rushed into the bathroom in too much pain to even stand up straight. I passed a ton more tissue and blood, but the pain continued. My mom arrived at my house just minutes after we got there, and Chris told her the news. Again, I was grateful that I was spared from doing it. My poor Mom was sick with the same junk that we had, so she was exhausted from her drive. The rest of this evening is a blur. I was in severe pain for the next hour or so, so I just laid on the couch and tried to breathe. Lisa left to go home, and Tia brought food and meds over for us. Then, she and Chris left about the same time to go to Bible study. I felt bad that Chris went alone, but he really wanted to be there. I thought I was so exhausted that sleep would come easily that night, but it didn't. At all. I tossed and I turned and my brain raced for hours. My body ached, my heart ached, and my empty arms ached.

I'll finish this story up in the next part.

The Details, Part Four

I really struggled with what to title this post. There was never supposed to be a "The Details, Part Four" because after Part Three I was planning to begin my weekly pregnancy updates. However, there is a Part Four, and it has taken me a long time to write it. For obvious reasons, it's definitely been more difficult to "relive" this part of the story.

If you missed it, you can find Part One here, Part Two here, and Part Three here.

Okay, so I left off on Part Three with us being over-the-moon excited for B3 to be growing, healthy, and joining our family in July. We did lots of things that I think are normal for excited parents-to-be to do. We talked about how we would arrange the kids' rooms to make room for B3. We discussed a few names that sounded nice. We looked at minivans. And, like I've mentioned a few times before, we finally spread our joyous news. Brianna knew to be careful with Momma's tummy because there was a baby in there, and she was excited to be a big sister again.

For Christmas, we went out of town to see my parents. While we were at their house, Brenson came down with a nasty cough which turned out to be croup. He did not sleep well at all the night of the 24th or 25th, and therefore Momma didn't get much sleep either. Thus began a string of events that led to the whole house being very sick (once again).

We came home from our trip on Wednesday, December 26th (the same day we announced our news in cyberspace) and Brenson was still not doing well. On the morning of Thursday, December 27th, I took him to Dr. F's office and found out he had croup and an ear infection. I thought Brianna was fine, but on the way home from Dr. F's office, she fell asleep in the car. Considering it was only 10:30am, I knew that this was a very bad sign. Sure enough, by about 1:00pm, she was running a fever and throwing up. I spent the whole day trying to care for my two very sick kiddos, and I was feeling progressively worse and worse. By the time Chris got home from work, I was down-and-out as well. I ran a fever of about 100.5 that evening, but felt absolutely exhausted. I remember texting my friend that my body was just so, so tired and worn out. Between not sleeping at night for several days, caring for two sick babies, and being pregnant, it's really no wonder that I was knocked off of my feet so quickly.

Chris stayed home with us on Friday, December 28th. He and I were both worried about me overdoing it. He tried so hard to let me rest while he cared for the kiddos, but it just wasn't always possible. Brianna's fever kept spiking (as high as 103), and although we were no longer vomiting, we were all coughing, congested, and had sore throats. Even Chris was beginning to feel really bad, so our caregiver was quickly needing to be cared for. Saturday brought with it much of the same misery for the whole family. I have thought about these few days several times, and I know that Chris and I both did the best we could do to make sure everyone was being taken care of, including B3. But it wasn't enough. My body was weak, tired, and dragging in a major way.

However, by Sunday morning I was feeling okay. I decided to go to church that morning, even though the rest of the family was still too ill to get out. In hindsight, I should have stayed in and rested more, but I thought I was on the up-and-up. By that evening, I was feeling horrible again and my throat felt like it was on fire. Of course, I was being super careful with the medications I was taking.

Chris and Brenson were doing better by Monday, December 31st, but Brianna and I were both still struggling. When I woke up that morning, I noticed the tiniest little bit of spotting when I used the restroom. And by tiny little bit, I mean I'm not sure how I even noticed it at all it was so little. I did tell Chris about it, but honestly was not concerned at all by it. I didn't have any pain and it was only that one little bit when I used the restroom that morning. However, by that afternoon, the spotting appeared again. It was still just a tiny little bit (and was brownish in color), and I figured that my body was just working so hard and feeling over-extended (which - no doubt - it was) trying to get over whatever illness had plagued me.

That night was another night of little rest as Brianna's fever spiked again. Chris ended up sleeping on the floor of her room and left me the bedroom to myself to try and get some rest. At this point, he was way more concerned than I was and was working harder than ever to make sure I was getting adequate rest.

The next morning (Tuesday, January 1st), I woke up at about 7:00am and used the restroom. When I did, I noticed that there was quite a bit of bright red blood. It wasn't a huge amount, but it was enough to scare me. I was 12 weeks and 6 days along. I immediately called the doctor on call at my clinic, which was Dr. C who I had never talked to or dealt with before. He didn't seem concerned at all (especially since I didn't have any pain or cramping), and told me to rest, stay hydrated, and come in to see Dr. N the next day (the clinic was closed for New Years that day). I tried to play it cool with Chris, but he could tell that I was beginning to worry a bit.

As the day went on, the bleeding became heavier and heavier. I googled my symptoms and found several stories of people who bled heavily and had successful pregnancies and several stories of people who bled heavily and had miscarriages. I really wanted to think that everything was okay, but deep down I felt like it wasn't. I kept finding hope in the fact that I wasn't experiencing any cramping or pain, but the bleeding was really scaring me. Once again, I found myself praying that God would give me the strength to handle whatever trial may be coming my way, and that He would bless our family with more children whether now or in the future.

When I went to bed that night, I was still feeling generally icky (congestion, runny nose, sore throat, etc), but I didn't have a fever at all. I planned to call my clinic first thing in the morning to get an appointment to check on B3.

At about 2:30am, I awoke from my sleep with severe pain in my lower back. At first, I thought my back was just hurting (not uncommon for me at all), but I soon realized that the pain was coming and going in waves. It was also getting progressively more intense, and changing positions in bed was not easing the pain at all. I knew then that I was losing B3. This was not just any pain, but it was mild contraction pain. Brenson has a clock in his room that ticks off seconds, and we can clearly hear the ticking of that clock over the monitor. As I laid in bed, I timed the contractions using the ticking of that clock. They were coming about every two minutes, and lasting right around one minute. They had a very obvious gain in intensity, peak, and letdown. Some were less intense than others, but there were several that I actually had to breathe through. This lasted for several hours, and I just laid in bed and prayed almost the whole time. I was scared. I was heartbroken. I was overwhelmed. I thought about waking Chris over and over again, but I never did. There was nothing he could do for me, and he needed rest so badly at that point. Someone needed to be rested enough and well enough to take care of the rest of us.

At about 4:45am, I had the sudden urge to use the restroom. I had been in and out of the bathroom several times before this, but this time I ran to the bathroom and blood just gushed out everywhere. It was seriously so scary for me because there was so much blood. So, so much. After this, the pain subsided and I was able to get a few hours of sleep.

A few hours later, I woke up feeling like the life had been sucked out of me. I felt like I could barely move to get dressed or brush my teeth or get a drink of water. I immediately called my clinic and left an urgent message describing what had happened to Stevie, Dr. N's nurse. I was still bleeding heavily, and still coughing and congested. Chris took care of the kids while I laid in bed and rested, waiting for a call from my clinic. At about 10:00am, Stevie finally called me back. After describing everything that was going on to her, she tried to be positive by saying that everything could be okay, but she also said that it could mean things are not good. But I already knew that. She squeezed me in at 1:20pm.

We also had to take Brianna to her pediatrician that day to make sure she was okay. We were able to get an appointment for her at 3:00pm. Dr. N's office and Dr. F's office are only a few miles from one another, but they are both about 45 minutes from our house. We didn't want to take Brianna with us to our appointment with Dr. N, but we didn't have time to come all the way home to get her either. So, we asked my sister to come stay with Brenson, and we asked my friend Angie to watch Brianna for us (she lives not far from where our appointments were) while we went to our appointment with Dr. N.

I was still absolutely beyond exhausted and weak feeling . . . more weak than I think I've ever felt in my life. Chris had to pretty much get the kids all ready by himself while I just sat in the chair. Oh, and as an added bonus to this day, when we got in the car to leave, our car wouldn't start! My car (that has the carseats in it) had a dead battery and we had to scramble to get Brianna's carseat in Chris's car so that we could leave on time to drop Brianna off and make it to our appointment. I know that a dead battery is really no big deal, but the timing of it was so bad.

Okay, this has gotten a little long, so I think I'll end it here for now. There is quite a bit of this story left, so check back soon for Part Five.

The Details, Part Three

Part 1

Part 2

This story is very important to me, and I want to be sure and get it documented before I forget too much of it. It hasn't been easy thinking through all of the details, but I'm glad that I'm writing them out here so I can recall them if and when I want to. If you missed Part 1 or 2, there is a link to them at the top of this post.

I left off on Part 2 with us waiting for our first ultrasound. Hannah (my nurse at my fertility clinic) had warned me that with the slow start to the pregnancy we needed to be prepared to not see a viable pregnancy or a heartbeat. I don't think she was meaning to be so negative about the situation (because trust me, that is how she came across), I just think she wanted to be real. And really, a healthy pregnancy was not looking likely with my numbers. Also, I still had no symptoms of pregnancy at all, so I just wasn't sure what to think. We had prayed fervently about the situation. I prayed specifically that my heart could handle the news if it was not what we wanted to hear, and that we would be blessed with more children whether now or in the future. I had no idea at the time that I would be praying that exact prayer six weeks later.

I was 7 weeks along at our first ultrasound, which was the day before Thanksgiving (November 21st). The weekend before we had been out of town for my birthday, and after getting home I told Chris that I was feeling so fatigued. I was beyond tired . . . like abnormally exhausted. This little thing gave me so much hope that maybe - just maybe - we had a healthy little baby growing inside me. 

Even with that bit of hope and the endless prayers, I was incredibly nervous at this appointment. It was an afternoon appointment - which I absolutely hate! I despise waiting all day for an appointment like this . . . that just gives me too much time to get nervous. We made the decision for Chris to stay in the parking lot with the kiddos while I went in to the ultrasound by myself. We just didn't know what kind of news I would be receiving, so we thought it best that the children not be present for it. 

My heart was seriously beating so hard as Dr. P began the ultrasound. I thought I didn't want to look, but I couldn't help myself. As soon as he got a picture on the screen, I could see the little flutter of B3's heartbeat. The baby was measuring perfectly at 6 weeks and 5 days.

It took a minute or so, but Dr. P finally got the audio of the heartbeat as well. Oh, that sound was so beautiful to me! The heartbeat was a perfect 131 beats per minute.

As soon as Dr. P left the room, I broke down in tears. Now, I can definitely be a crier, but I pretty much never cry in the doctor's office. Of all the not-so-great news I've received in a doctor's office (infertile, ovaries look terrible, need surgery on reproductive system, may never get pregnant, etc, etc, etc), I have only cried in the doctor's office one other time (that was when I was about 22 weeks pregnant with Brianna and she stopped growing and we thought something major was wrong). All of the other times, I have waited until I was in my car to break down. This day, I was just SO overcome with joy and thankfulness for this life inside of me that I said over and over "Thank you, God. Praise you, God" as I cried.

After a few minutes, I composed myself and headed to the parking lot to tell Chris the news. My exact words to him were, "Are you ready to be outnumbered?" He already knew before I said anything though because I had a huge grin on my face that I couldn't stop. He laughed, smiled a huge smile, then quickly became serious and said, "Wait, how many are there?" This is always a concern with fertility treatments, but I happily reported that there was just one. Not that we wouldn't have felt incredibly blessed had God seen fit to give us multiples, it just would have been A LOT to handle with two littles already.

I pretty much immediately called my siblings to tell them the news, but we waited until Thanksgiving Day to share with my parents. They were so happy and it was such a joyous moment. I just kept thinking that I couldn't believe this infertile girl was pregnant for the third time, and what a blessing this was!

We had a second ultrasound with Dr. P two weeks later (on December 5th) when I was 9 weeks along. I was much less nervous this time as a few little symptoms had finally kicked in. I was a bit nauseous at times and I was certainly fatigued beyond anything that I had ever felt before. However, other symptoms that are normal for me - such as soreness in certain areas, bloating, etc - just weren't there. But the fatigue was terrible. Waaaay worse than what I had ever experienced before.

We took the children to the ultrasound with us this time. It was how we told Brianna that she was going to be a big sister again. As soon as we told her that the screen was showing us her new baby brother or sister, she just grinned ear to ear. She was SO excited!

This time, B3 had a heartbeat of 171 beats per minute,

and was still measuring perfectly on track at 8 weeks, 5 days.

I love this little "teddy gram" shot that Dr. P got for us :-).

After this appointment, Dr. P released me to my regular OB. I was actually really surprised, as generally he keeps me until about 11 weeks. However, this time he said, "There's nothing else I can do for you. Your risk of miscarriage is extremely low now. Everything looks perfect." And it did. We were so happy and excited when we left his office. It was a fabulous feeling. 

Oh, and as *somewhat* of a side-note: Dr P could never really give us an explanation for why my numbers looked so bad in the beginning. I definitely felt like it was because B3 was a late implanter, and the way he/she measured consistently 2 days late somewhat confirmed that. But we will never know for sure.

The following weekend, our entire house came down with some nasty virus. We all had fevers, vomiting, diarrhea, etc. It was UGLY. I wasn't as sick as the children . . . my fever only reached about 100.5 and I only vomited a few times . . . but it was SCARY. I was so nervous that I was going to lose B3. Although the illness didn't last long (thankfully), I was super antsy to get to Dr. N's office and make sure everything was okay. 

Dr. N is the most popular OB around, so they couldn't get me in until Monday, December 17th. I was still experiencing fatigue, but my nausea had pretty much gone away, so I was super nervous for this appointment , too. Looking back, I feel like I knew that something was not right all along and I was always waiting for the ball to drop. I was 10 weeks, 5 days along at this point and we still had only shared our news with family and a few close friends. Maybe it was because of the way this pregnancy began, but I just wasn't eager to shout it from the rooftops. I was more scared than anything, and was working overtime trying to remember to trust in the Lord in all of this. 

However, this appointment with Dr. N was wonderful. I love him anyway, but he made me feel so good this day. I was his last appointment for the day, so I had to wait for over an hour to see him. I expected this though, and had come to the appointment by myself. When I was finally called back, he passed me in the hall going into another patient's room. He high-fived me, said "Congrats, girl. You did it again!" and walked on. Then, while I was in the holding room waiting to be moved to an exam room, he came in and visited with me for 3 or 4 minutes between seeing other patients. He asked about meds (specifically how I got pregnant this time), how I was feeling, etc. It made me feel so special that he took the time to visit with me like that! I mean, he is a seriously busy man and I know I am just one of hundreds of patients. He never makes me feel that way, though.

Then, the appointment itself was great. We chatted for a while about how blessed I was to have another first-try success, about how I got pregnant on half the meds as I had used before, about the family, life in general, etc. He kept congratulating me and saying, "Welcome home, Nellie. It's good to have you back." Yes, he calls me by a nickname that's a play on my last name. He also says we are long lost cousins because our last names are extremely similar :-). As soon as I told him that I was nervous, he jumped up and began the ultrasound. 

And once again, there was B3 looking perfect and active! He/she was squirming like crazy, waving a little hand at us, and just rocking out. On the ultrasound photo below, Dr. N wrote Merry Christmas at the bottom and instructed me to hang it on our tree.

The heartbeat was 172 beats per minute, and Dr. N immediately declared that it must be a girl. I quickly informed him that we were not going to find out before birth day this time (we were sooooo looking forward to that kind of surprise!) and he just laughed. B3 was measuring 10 weeks and 6 days along. My due date was officially set for July 12, 2013 (based upon B3's measurements at Dr. P's office), though according to my IUI it would have been July 10, 2013. Then, we just sat and watched B3 perform for us for a few minutes. That is a huge perk to being the last patient of the day :-). Having that extra-long ultrasound and seeing B3 so active was such a blessing. I only wish Chris could have been there to share in that moment as well.

I was seriously on cloud 9 when I left Dr. N's office. All the worry and doubt I had was washed away. I was finally believing that we were going to have another baby, and I couldn't have been happier. As soon as I got home, we put the ultrasound photo on our Christmas tree and there it remained until we took the tree down.

We were so thankful for this amazing blessing, and even decided to share our news on our Christmas card (the card I put on here was edited so as not to spill the beans). We shared with our church family. Then, as you know, the day after Christmas I put the news on here and we put it on Facebook. I was 12 weeks and 1 day when we announced it in cyberspace, barely starting to show (though I was actually down one pound from pre-pregnancy, my belly was beginning to pooch), and feeling great. I had even felt just a few little flutters of movement. Little did we know that the ball really was getting ready to drop.

I'll share that part of the story next.

Time

Yesterday, I decided it was time. I had thought about doing it several times before, but I knew that I wasn't ready yet. Yesterday, I was ready.

I went around the house and collected the few pieces of tangible evidence of B3's existence.  There wasn't much - a few ultrasound photos, a handful of sympathy cards we received, the last doctor's appointment card, a bracelet that I wore when I had the D&C - and I folded it all up nice and neat and slipped it into a medium sized manilla envelope. Then I closed the flap on the envelope, fastened the clasps, and tucked it away.

I wasn't really emotional about it at that moment. But it did make me think. Because of how this pregnancy started . . . with such an unsure beginning . . . I didn't let myself think about due dates or B3's place in our family or having another tiny baby to hold until I heard that precious sound of a beating heart at seven weeks along. And then? It was instant. The love I felt was instant. B3 instantly had a place in my heart and in our family. We were instantly a family of five.

I was a mother of three. I dreamed of how that would be. I thanked God for my three precious blessings. Chris and I joked about how we were officially outnumbered by our children. I marveled that I had a life growing inside me once again. ME. The girl who was infertile for so many years. The girl who waited and waited and waited for her turn. I was pregnant. For the THIRD time.

So how do you rewind that? How do you suddenly go back to a family of four when a family of five came so naturally? When a family of five felt so right? When a family of five was one step closer to your dream-come-true? How is it that the loss of someone who was never in my arms or physically present in our house can make those arms and that house feel SO empty?

I wish that I could round up all the pain, all the sadness, all the emotions, and all the emptiness and just tuck it neatly away in an envelope. Just like I did with the tangible evidence. Nice and neat . . . not to be seen unless I choose.

But I know I can't.

And I know I can't rewind time and unlove B3. I can't suddenly take B3 out of my heart. Or out of his/her place in our family. I just hope that {someday} I will be able to think of B3 without the awful sting, without the suffocating feeling, and without the tears. But rather, with simple love for the baby that was lost.

Not today

I've come here to write several times, but no words come to me. I have so much I want to say . . . So much I need to say. Right now though, it's all a big jumbled mess in my head. I know it will come with time, and in time I will write about what happened.

For now though, I can't.

Like I said in my previous post, I knew when we went to the doctor last Wednesday that we would not be receiving good news. There had just been too much bleeding and cramping the night before. At first, I really wrestled with the fact that we had announced this pregnancy to our entire world - through Facebook, my blog, at church, and on our Christmas card - literally one week prior to losing the baby. Why didn't we just wait a little while longer? I thought we were in the "safe" zone. We had seen the baby and heard its heartbeat three different times. I was 13 weeks along. But why oh why didn't we wait just a little longer???

Now, however, I'm glad that things went the way they did. Waiting longer wouldn't have taken this hurt away. And because everyone knew, we have had an enormous amount of support and such an outpouring of love from so many people. Some of them would have known either way, but many would not have. We've had visits, calls, people bringing food, sending flowers, cards, etc. I've had countless text messages from friends - some texting every day to check on me. The wordless hugs we received at church yesterday were irreplaceable. The sweet comments from you all on here and that we received on Facebook have meant so much. I've had a number of people private message me to let me know that they've been through this, too. And of course, the prayers . . . the prayers have meant more than I can say.

Eventually, I also want to finish telling you all the story of my pregnancy with B3. That's what we called the baby - B3 - and that's how I'll always think of him/her. Not now though. I can't do it just yet.

So for now, you'll soon be seeing a post about Brenson turning 11 months old. You'll hopefully see a Christmas post in the near future. And as it comes to me- as I can sort and process - you'll see some pretty raw posts about the emotions I'm going through right now.

But not today.

In the meantime, we covet your prayers and so appreciate all of your support.

Heartbroken

My plan was to post my 13 week pregnancy update today or tomorrow (I was officially 13 weeks yesterday). My plan was to continue telling you all the story of this pregnancy. My plan was to wash maternity clothes this week so I could begin wearing them.

Sometimes, plans change.

On Tuesday, I began bleeding. In the middle of the night that night, intense cramps woke me from my sleep and I knew. I knew the plan was changing.

We lost our precious unborn baby. Physically, this has been a very difficult and painful process. Emotionally, we are heartbroken. However, we are sustained by the love of our Father, and our hope and trust is in Him. 

"The Lord is near the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." -- Psalm 34:18

The Details, Part Two

If you missed it, you can read Part One here.



The morning of Halloween, I went in to my clinic bright and early to have my blood drawn for my beta. It's about a 40 minute drive from my house to my clinic, and this generally seems like a very long drive on beta day because I'm anxious for the results. On my very first IUI cycle, I took a home pregnancy test and got a false positive the night before my beta. Ever since that time, I have not tested at home at all, so beta day is generally pretty nerve wracking as I wait for an answer.

This time, however, was different. I was so convinced that this cycle was negative that I wasn't scared to test at home. And like I said in my last post, both home pregnancy tests I used showed a negative result, so I knew exactly what to expect on beta day. I was relaxed and very at peace during my whole drive to the clinic. More than anything, I was just ready to get the formality of the blood draw over with so we could move on to the next cycle.

Overall, I love my clinic. I have very few complaints about the clinic or my doctor, but one thing I hate is the way they handle beta day. I generally have my blood drawn around 8:00am, but do not receive a call with my results until 3:00 to 4:00 that afternoon. That is a long time to wait! I think they could definitely handle this better and get the results to their patients in a much more timely manner.

After having my blood drawn, I headed home and went about my day as normal. I was feeling a little defeated and disappointed with how the cycle turned out, but I wasn't just devastated. Like I said before, I had spent a lot of time in prayer - praying for peace, grace, patience, and trust - and God had certainly granted me those things. There were several times in the middle of my day caring for my two kiddos that I completely forgot that I was waiting on a call from my clinic.

Around 3:00pm, my phone rang and it was Hannah (my fertility coordinator). I answered and expected her to just pop out with "I'm sorry, your beta was 0 this time", but that's not how it went down. She was being a little awkward - stuttering around like she was looking for the right words. I remember thinking, "I already know, please just tell me."

Well, I didn't already know, and that was the problem. She finally told me that my beta was 21. Ummm, what? What does that mean? My thoughts almost immediately began racing as I asked her what that meant. I knew that a beta of 21 on 14 days past IUI was not necessarily a good thing. I knew that it didn't necessarily mean that the cycle was successful. Hannah told me straight out that while there is a measure of HcG in my blood, she really encouraged me to not get my hopes up. She said that such a low number was concerning at best, and that they didn't even consider something lower than 40 (at this many days past IUI) a positive. She scheduled me to come in to the clinic to have my beta redrawn in 5 days.

So, what did that mean?

The short answer was that we didn't know. It could mean that I was experiencing a very early miscarriage. It could mean that I had the beginnings of an ectopic pregnancy. It could mean that my body was experiencing some sort of strange hormone surge and there was no pregnancy at all. It could mean that I was pregnant . . . barely.

For those of you that may not know: Both a beta blood test and a home pregnancy test measure the amount of the HcG hormone in your blood or urine, respectively. The amount of HcG in your blood should climb rapidly from around 4 weeks to 9 weeks of pregnancy. Most home pregnancy tests, including the ones I used, don't detect HcG at levels lower than 25 to 40. That is why I received two negative results . . . the HcG in my body wasn't even high enough to be detected on a home pregnancy test. At 14 days past IUI, we would have expected my HcG levels to be closer to 100. It varies with different people, but with both Brianna and Brenson, my HcG was around 100 at 14 days after IUI.

A woman who is not pregnant can have small amounts of HcG in her body. That was the reason we didn't really know if my level of 21 meant I was pregnant or not.

After getting off the phone, I honestly didn't know what to think. I just sat there for a minute letting it all sink in (luckily, the kiddos were down for nap). I was so sure that this cycle was negative, and receiving a "maybe not, maybe so" answer was overwhelming. And honestly, it made me mad. I just wanted a yes or a no . . . not a maybe. I suddenly felt so angry that I didn't get a straight answer. I felt angry that my body is broken. I felt angry that I had to wait another 5 days for an answer. I felt angry that we even have to go through all of this mess to have babies in the first place. This was very odd for me - anger is not generally my go-to emotion - so I surprised myself by feeling so angry. Then, I cried a little. I thought I was doing so well at accepting things with this cycle, but this unexpected turn of events really threw me off. It even took me a while to call Chris and tell him what was going on.

It didn't take long for me to calm down. I quickly realized that feeling angry wasn't going to change or accomplish anything. During the next 5 days, we did a lot of praying over the situation. I specifically prayed for whatever was happening - whether that be a pregnancy or a miscarriage or whatever - that it would happen naturally. I also prayed that I could be calm and at peace during the waiting period. And I prayed that someday we would be blessed with another baby . . . whether that meant at this time or in the future. I thought a lot about different scriptures that deal with worry, and every time I felt myself become anxious, I meditated on those scriptures.

The 5 days passed quickly, and I found myself back at my clinic getting my blood drawn again. This time my beta was 197. We immediately rejoiced that it had gone up, but it wasn't really climbing at a great rate. That number was still concerning for 19 days past IUI, and could still indicate a problem. However, a beta that high was definitely a positive. We didn't know if it was a viable pregnancy, but we rejoiced that I was pregnant for that moment. Small victories.

We waited another 4 days, and I went back to my clinic to have yet another beta drawn. It had now climbed to 1089. Hannah was still telling me to not get my hopes up because the numbers didn't look great. However, my beta was climbing at an okay rate, and I was encouraged by that. I asked Hannah if just maybe we had a late implantation and that was skewing the numbers. Being off by just 2 days could make a huge difference at this point. Her exact reply was, "Well, it's not impossible." I was starting to think more and more that we were dealing with a late implanter, but I still had ZERO pregnancy symptoms. I didn't know what to think of that. The possibility that I had no symptoms because no baby was developing went through my head often. I was trying to be hopeful and real at the same time.

Chris and I had also made the decision to not tell anyone what was going on. I really wanted to share this with my family, but I felt like I needed to know what to share with them first. I didn't want to get their hopes up if this wasn't a viable pregnancy. Of course, had this ended up being a miscarriage I would have shared that with them, but I needed to know for sure before I did. I still wonder if that was the right thing to do or not, but at the time it's what we felt was best.

Hannah went ahead and scheduled me to come in for an ultrasound on November 21st (12 days from the last beta . . . more waiting!), but she did tell me that there was a distinct possibility that we would not hear a heartbeat.

We just continued to pray and tried to wait patiently.


To be continued . . . 

The Details, Part One

Thank you all for your sweet comments on my last post. I've been anxious to share my news in cyberspace, so I'm glad that it's finally out there!

I'm 12 weeks along today, so we've known and been keeping quiet for a while. Easier said than done :-).

I do plan on doing weekly pregnancy updates - complete with belly pics - starting next week. They were pretty tedious to do every week when I was pregnant with Brenson, but I really enjoy looking back on them now. I didn't do them every week while I was pregnant with Brianna, and I wish that I would have. As a quick 12 week update, I'll say that I have been a little less fatigued this week and less nauseous in general. Hopefully, I'm coming out of that zone. I'm about 1.5 pounds down in the weight department, and even though I am starting to show a bit, I haven't unpacked any maternity clothes yet. I think I'll work on getting them unpacked and washed next week because I know I'm going to need the pants sooner rather than later. I had been experiencing serious lack of appetite, but that has also been better this week.

Okay, so now for the story of the pregnancy. Or at least part of it anyway . . . it's a long one :-).

Many of you know that I have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), originally diagnosed back in 2006 then confirmed by my Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) Dr. P in 2008. My case was pretty severe when I first began seeing Dr. P, so he preformed surgery on my ovaries in early 2008. Although that improved my condition for a while, I began experiencing PCOS flare-ups not long before becoming pregnant with Brianna in June of 2009. While I was pregnant with Brianna and for her first six months of life while I was nursing her, I had no problems with my PCOS at all. While a woman is nursing, her hormones tend to be suppressed and this was great for me! With suppressed hormones, my PCOS was under control and I felt better than I had in years. However, as soon as I weaned Brianna, I had a major flare-up. I immediately gained almost 15 pounds, had zero energy, was in pain, and my skin looked like it belonged on a 13 year old. I also experienced what felt like a delayed postpartum type depression. Now, what I should have done was immediately go see Dr. P, but that's not what I did. I waited over 6 months before seeing him again. When I did finally see him (when Brianna was about 13 months old), my PCOS was back with a vengeance and it took Dr. P a couple months to get things under control again.

After becoming pregnant with Brenson in June of 2011, I saw Dr. P for the first 10 weeks of my pregnancy. Before releasing me to my regular OB, Dr. P gave me specific instructions that I was to be back in his office no more than 8 weeks postpartum. He wanted to make sure that the PCOS didn't have a chance to flare up this time.

Fast forward to April 2012 (8 weeks postpartum). I meet with Dr. P who puts me on Metformin to help keep the cysts dormant. I am still nursing Brenson at this time, so I'm feeling great and not having any PCOS related issues. I see Dr. P for a check up again in July 2012 (everything still looks great), and then in September 2012.

As a side-note, I began seeing a chiropractor in June 2012. During my initial meeting with my chiropractor, she looked at my x-rays and pointed out the various areas of my spine that have problems. One of my biggest areas of concern was in my lower back. My chiropractor pointed out to me that the specific vertebrae that was most out of place was directly linked to the reproductive system. She then asked me if I've ever had problems in that area. I almost laughed out loud! I mean, when I have not had problems in that area??? She then tells me that after we get my back problems under control, she wouldn't be surprised to see improvements with my reproductive issues as well. Interesting.

Okay, so this past September - exactly two days after Brenson was fully weaned - I had an appointment with Dr. P. I knew that he would want me to go on birth control now that I was finished nursing in order to help keep the PCOS suppressed. However, Chris and I had decided that we were ready to start trying for baby number 3. We had always said that we wanted a "big" family, and even after infertility totally threw a kink in those plans, we knew we still wanted to do treatments for at least 3 babies. So, during this appointment, I shared with Dr. P that we were ready to cycle again, and he seriously got SO excited! It's fun to watch a doctor who is truly passionate about his job :-). He immediately whipped out his prescription pad and began writing scripts. He wrote a script for a Z-pack for both Chris and me (just in case we had any infections that could affect the treatments), he wrote a script for Provera for me (to get me cycling on his schedule), and he wrote me a script for Femara to take during cycle days 3 through 7 (to tell my ovaries to produce follicles). He also ordered us both to have lab work done, and for us to complete our patient education class (basically, a class where we learn about the meds, sign our lives away in paperwork, and learn to give injections . . . we have already taken this twice, but my clinic requires all patients to take it before cycling for each child). I left his office feeling so excited and hopeful.

Timing wise, everything worked out perfectly as cycle day 1 fell on October 1st. I had been feeling pretty crummy on the meds (Provera does that to me), and we had been having an extremely busy stretch of time. I felt horrible during our little weekend getaway to OKC, but tried hard to put on a happy face. Can you tell?

I went in to Dr. P's office on October 3rd for my baseline ultrasound. My fertility coordinator, Hannah, performed the ultrasound and actually said, "Your ovaries look great!" to which I responded, "Wow, really? That's not something I've ever heard before!" She quickly clarified that she meant great "for me" but that was still really, really good news. Such good news in fact, that Dr. P cut my Femara dosage in half (from 5mg to 2.5mg daily). I was shocked. This was the 6th injection cycle that we had done with Dr. P, and I hadn't been on 2.5 mg of Femara since our very first injection cycle that was cancelled due to poor response. In other words, it wasn't enough medicine to convince my ovaries to work. They are very lazy, those ovaries of mine :-).

I wasn't thrilled about this. I trust my doctor, but at the same time I didn't want to waste time and money. Each cycle costs us about $2500 out of pocket, so we want every single one to count. I was also worried that I wouldn't respond as well since I'm getting older. Cutting the meds just didn't make sense to me.

Regardless, I didn't really have a choice. Dr. P had decided that he wanted to try a lower dosage so that's what we did. On cycle day 8, I began the Follistim injections to tell the follicles (that had hopefully produced due to the Femara) to grow, grow, grow. Dr. P had also lowered my Follistim dose from 100 IUs to 75 IUs.  I wasn't at all sure what to expect when I went in on cycle day 11 for an ultrasound, but to my surprise I had 2 follicles growing! The one on my right side was measuring 13mm and the one on my left side was measuring 7mm. While those certainly aren't great measurements for cycle day 11, they are EXACTLY what I would have expected on the higher doses of meds. I really couldn't believe it! My follicles are just super slow growers, even with the Follistim helping them along.

I continued the 75 IUs of Follistim injections until cycle day 15 (also, October 15th), when I went back in for another ultrasound. This ultrasound found that I had one good follicle on my right side, measuring 23mm. That's actually the biggest one I've ever had, so I was pumped! We did a trigger shot that night (Pregnyl - another first for me, I've only ever used Novarel or Ovidrel in the past), and had an IUI on October 17th. Then, of course, it was time to wait.

For the majority of the two week wait, we were in New Orleans which worked out kind of perfectly. It was a great distraction! However, towards the end of our New Orleans trip, I told Chris that this cycle didn't work. I had ZERO symptoms of pregnancy. With Brenson, I began having symptoms about 5 days after the IUI (read about them here). I was very disappointed, but we had spent a lot of time in prayer over this matter, so I was determined to trust in God's timing.

The day before beta day, I was feeling very at peace with everything. I was scheduled to have my blood drawn at 8:00am on Halloween (a full two weeks after the IUI). Even though I was already pretty sure the answer was no this time, I tested at home the night before my beta. I used a digital home pregnancy test and a regular home pregnancy test.

Both results were negative.



To be continued . . . 

The post in which I confess . . .

. . . that I've been holding out on you guys!

Details to come :-)!