We are still not pregnant. I am trying to stay positive. I am trying not to dwell on the unfairness, because no benefit will come of that. Everyone has problems and many people have dreams that are not fulfilled. I still wouldn’t trade anything about my life for anyone else’s. But I’m disappointed and becoming more listless on this “journey.”
I don’t have much else to say right now, but just wanted to give an update. We are beginning our fifth cycle.
No girl, when she imagines her future life, envisions having fertility problems. Nobody really thinks realistically about that, do they? We just assume we’ll be able to have the kids we want, when we want. Fertility problems are something that happen to “other people.”
Unfortunately, they happen to many more of us than we anticipate. I recently learned that about 7.3 million American women (or approximately one in eight couples) experience trouble conceiving. Chances are we all know someone who has suffered or is currently suffering with infertility. I myself am not even really sure, however, that I fall into this category. I never had trouble conceiving, but I have lost 71% of my pregnancies — five of seven of them have ended in so-called “unexplained” miscarriage. And pretty much every piece of medical advice or literature I encountered after that told me that about 50% of women don’t find answers for that “unexplained” category.
When my hubby and I were married in 2004, we knew we wanted kids – I always saw myself having a big family (probably the result of being a bored only child for 13 years); he said he would want about three. We figured we’d decide on it later … that it would sort itself out.
In 2005, we moved from the Washington, D.C., area to the Pittsburgh, PA, region. I was 27 and my husband was 28. He got his permanent job in October, and a few months later, I was pregnant. We were elated.
However, in March 2006, I started spotting, went in for a sonogram, and was diagnosed with “blighted ovum.” I was eight weeks pregnant, but the sonar showed an empty amniotic sac. With this type of miscarriage, a fertilized egg implants in the uterine wall, but doesn’t develop. The woman’s body forms a placenta and she feels many signs of pregnancy, but soon her body realizes that the baby is not growing, and it rejects the pregnancy.
I’ll never forget how sad I was that day. I won’t ever forget going home and sobbing in my bed. In fact, I was sad for a long time. My OB recommended miscarrying naturally rather than having surgery, which made the process drag on for about three more weeks. I hated every single day of it.
Miscarriage is a real loss. Even though you never knew that baby, you started imagining your life with them from the moment you got a positive pregnancy test. Miscarriage means that you grieve the dreams, hopes and excitement of having that little one in your life. I also think having a miscarriage before you’ve had any children presents a unique set of challenges in itself. For one, you fear that you might not ever have children. You began to think about changing the direction of your life – for me, I looked forward to leaving my desk job and being a full-time mom. All those ideas go on hold and you have to wrestle through wondering if you’ll ever achieve your hopes of being a mother.
People sometimes tried to comfort me by telling me that I would probably get pregnant again soon, or that I would be able to have a baby soon, or that it was just something natural that happens and it didn’t mean I’d have another one. People meant well, and it’s hard for them to know what else to say. There’s just not really anything people can say that will take away that pain. But when they say things about a future they cannot predict, the one grieving can’t help but feel the undercurrent of uncertainty. You know they are telling you things they cannot guarantee.
Fortunately, in my case, they were right. I became pregnant again by July 2006 and we had our son in April 2007. It was an uneventful pregnancy with no complications – I wasn’t even very nauseous or anything! He was born on his due date after 18 hours of labor. He was big and healthy and grew fast. I pretty much figured my bad luck was over and I’d be able to have all those babies I’d dreamed of!
Around the time our son was 18 months old, in the summer of 2008, I got pregnant again. It was planned and I had no trouble getting pregnant. The day that I hit six weeks, however, it was like a switch flipped and I grew miserably sick. I could barely function – I’d wake in the morning and throw up a couple of times, and try to take care of our son while nibbling on the same piece of toast all morning. I felt hungry but insanely nauseous. I could barely walk into the kitchen and make his lunch without standing at the sink shaking and trying not to vomit. It felt like having the stomach flu, except that instead of just having to survive one or two days of it, I knew it was going to last at least six more weeks. I felt like I wanted to die! On top of that, we had just moved into a new house and nothing felt like “home” yet. But at least the TV was working.
I remember the first week of that being the worst, and each week thereafter being slightly easier. I think by the time I got to 10 weeks or so, I felt like I was functioning at a higher level, and that seemed OK because I remembered feeling more energetic in my previous pregnancy around 10 weeks.
I can’t remember the exact circumstances when I started spotting, but a sonogram confirmed a loss when I was about 16 weeks pregnant. The baby’s measurements seemed to indicate it had stopped growing around 13 weeks’ gestation. I had a different OB-GYN at that time (who is still my OB today), and he was baffled and very sad. Most sources say, of course, that it’s less likely to lose a baby once you are past the 12-week mark. To me, it seemed like we’d had some very bad luck.
My doctor scheduled an emergency D&C, which made me really nervous since I’d have to be put under general anesthesia, but he did not want to risk infection or hemorrhage. (It turned out to be much easier than miscarrying naturally, since once the surgery’s over you focus on recovering right away.) A wonderful friend stayed at our house with our son, and my mom drove up from Maryland, and when it was over, I was just so glad to go home and hug my living child. Our church family brought us many meals over the next couple of weeks, and I remember experiencing comfort and peace from many sides at that time. I remember it being a time of growing in my faith despite the very sad thing.
My doctor sent away some of the baby’s tissues for genetic testing, but because it had not been alive for perhaps a couple of weeks, the laboratory could not grow any of the cells. We could not know if there were any chromosomal abnormalities. (I have read that only about 5% of miscarriages occurring after 10 weeks are caused by chromosomal abnormalities.)
It was November 21st when we lost that baby. One year later, to the day, we were blessed with the birth of our daughter. Again, I had an uneventful, uncomplicated pregnancy with very little nausea and she was born at full-term. She was healthy, and loud. Very loud. She cried the whole night and gave the nurses a run for their money! I found out later that we were pretty lucky to even have had her — because normally, people with my issues have nothing but miscarriages after the birth of a baby boy.
It was my third miscarriage that really shook the foundations of my world. I will pick up there in Part 2.
Never before has it taken us more than three cycles to conceive. I’m so aggravated. As I mentioned in my last post, it is extremely frustrating that now, of all the times we’ve tried to become pregnant, we are having trouble. When each cycle costs us lots of money, and my biological clock ticks down to that dreaded 35.
I’ve never used a basal body temperature thermometer, because I’ve never had to – but I bought one last week. I’ve never spent much time on FertilityFriend.com, but I now have an account and am learning all about charting. I’m wondering if it’s just stress, since April was extremely busy for me and ovulation came very late. So I am trying to step back from things and not overbook myself.
I’m waiting to hear back from Dr. Braverman’s office about some financial questions. I am losing confidence that I will be pregnant soon, and paying for every cycle of “trying” is not really an approach I want to take — but only because of the cost. I deeply appreciate Dr. Braverman overseeing each of my cycles and paying close attention to my case. Just last week, he called me to talk about how I fit in with some new information his research team uncovered. His proactive, evolving approach to reproductive care makes the 12-year-old research guidelines my former reproductive endocrinologist used to treat me seem even more laughable.
If you’ve seen a Reproductive Endocrinologist, MFM or other fertility specialist, chances are you are being treated with these twelve-year-old protocols!
I feel rejuvenated in my passion for this blog, and feel strongly that I am doing the right thing. I’m definitely not ready to give up, but it would be nice to save a couple of thousand dollars – especially since if/when I do get pregnant, we will have to pay fees for the first trimester and plan on two trips to New York for in-office visits.
Ah, New York…. the thought of that makes me very happy. I can’t wait to go back!
Maybe see a Broadway show this time, and eat dinner in Little Italy again.
The hustle, the bustle…showing those Manhattan drivers the girl with the PA tags can hold her own. Knowing they don’t really care… 
Happy place. Yes, I will think about that. OK, body, let’s just chill out and relax and think about our upcoming vacation to New York City. Yes, this is a much happier thought pattern!
We’ll see where Cycle 4 takes us. And I guess in the meantime I’ll start digging out those AAA guidebooks and researching hotel rates again. … Who wants to come along???
If you’re new here, be sure to read my earlier posts (here and here) about visiting New York for a consultation with Dr. Jeffrey Braverman, my reproductive immunologist.
I started drafting this post about a week ago, but because of the complicated and personal elements of this subject, I am working hard to stay on topic. Maybe what I want most to show is there is nothing like suffering to remind us of the equality we share as human beings, nor is there any one “right” way to respond to suffering.
I also know that not all of my readers would align with the Christian faith, but if you are interested in the topic of coping with miscarriage or infertility, I humbly open this little window into my life and how I cope with mine. I must admit, I’m feeling a little exposed, which is perhaps part of the reason I have hesitated to finish this post and hit the “Publish” button.
I used to think that part of being a good Christian was to make sure my responses to life’s circumstances were right – whether in speech or attitude or emotion. However, it’s hard to expound on specific memories of that because the inside of a person can change so rapidly through loss, and profoundly when loss or grief continues year after year. I do remember, though, that I believed everyone’s problems would be smaller and more manageable if they could just have faith in Jesus. I remember judging other Christians for the way they spent their time or how they dressed or what TV shows they watched. I was trying my best, but I still had a lot to learn. I would guess that most Christians probably go through stages of this humbling over the course of their lives, because all of us are a work in progress and, the longer we live, hopefully we learn that we have no place to judge others.
In fact, I would say there is no impetus quite so effective as suffering to bring us to that humility very quickly. If there is one thing I have learned from five miscarriages and horrible postpartum mental health problems, it is to be much more gracious to other people. I carry around a lot less anger toward the sins of other people, and I don’t think I struggle with judging others so much for having a “messy” response to things, or a “messy” way of living. After all, it turns out we are all messy – the severity of the mess just depends on the depth of the patch of mud you are playing in (or how good you are at hiding your messy clothes).
I think I have learned to give myself and others a lot more room for mistakes because I have walked through some pretty horrible experiences to which I cannot possibly respond “perfectly.” We can tell ourselves those verses about “giving thanks in all circumstances,” but when you’re watching your pregnancy bleed out, it’s not exactly practical. No, the “thanks” come later, when you’re processing your mourning and your walk with God, and when you are able to see His goodness again and the love He truly has for you (see: the Cross). I have come to understand that being human, and all the clumsiness that goes along with it, is OK with God. He made us human, after all, and He knew what the effects of the Fall would be! Now, that’s not to say that sinful responses are justifiable, but that God is big enough to take it and help us get to the other side. He’s not going to reject me just because I’m mad at Him for letting yet another miscarriage happen, just like a mother wouldn’t give up her kid for adoption just because he has a tantrum over a box of Fruity Pebbles in Wal-Mart. He’s going to keep loving me and giving me room to make mistakes, and welcome me with open arms when I seek Him — even if that seeking is tainted with doubt or hardness of heart. Yes, even then.
Now, what’s the reason behind all this pondering? Oh, just a little biological function of my anterior pituitary and a microscopic egg, of course.
Two weeks ago, I was anticipating ovulation. The doctors are monitoring me very closely in the days before ovulation is expected. I go in for three separate sonograms to look at my follicles, and on the days I get sonograms I also get blood drawn. The hormone that initiates ovulation is Luteinizing Hormone (or “LH”). So the doctors want to see an LH surge to know that my body is preparing to ovulate. Once it is confirmed, I begin my daily injections of Lovenox and Neupogen.
Well, for whatever reason, my LH surge did not come when we thought it would. I actually have a hard time even summing up how much that hurt. It threw me off in so many ways – emotionally, theologically, directionally… The main thought pattern was something along the lines of, “I have gotten pregnant on the first or second try with many of my miscarriages, and now I have a great doctor and medications to treat my miscarriage problem, and it’s my third cycle and now I’m not even ovulating?! What kind of cruel joke is this?” And hopefully most people reading this can understand the crux of faith this would cause a person. Those standard Christian quips about “trusting God,” “everything working together for good” or what have you, are cold comfort to someone who has spent years trusting God through repeated losses and trials all tied to the same problem. I AM trusting God. Just because I’m angry and sad doesn’t mean that I am not His child or a “good Christian” anymore. This was a big deal, when I figured out God wasn’t displeased with me for having a difficult time with Him.
I went home and sat on my floor and cried, and I told God I didn’t like this and I didn’t understand His ways and I thought I knew what direction I was going in but now I don’t, and I just didn’t understand or like what He was doing or allowing in my life. I told Him that He needed to hang on to me because I was all out of strength and I was tired of the repeated disappointment. Hey, Psalm 62:8 tells me to pour out my heart before You? You got it. If You’re my refuge in the storm, You’re big enough to take my anger and tears. And hopefully I will find comfort there, too.
Suffering has taught me that faith truly is a gift from God and it is not something I muster up within myself. I muster up the prayer to say, “Help,” and He holds on to me.
A while back, I blogged about this topic, and I stand by what I wrote. What God asks of man is faith. And sometimes the only sign we still have any faith left at all is that we utter one little prayer for help or we read one verse in the Bible, sometimes doubting that it’s true at all. Praying for help to believe it. Reminding God that He said one thing but we need help trusting that it’s true. I believe these imperfect steps honor God very much. It’s when we take no steps toward Him that we are in real danger.
So that’s where we are. I actually did get my LH surge, finally. But the other day I got yet another negative pregnancy test. I suppose the late ovulation could also mean late implantation, so we may repeat it, but I don’t have my hopes too high. I guess we are just left with trying again, and maybe I need to send myself on a vacation to Oahu just to make sure I’m really relaxed or something.
In the meantime, I’m resolved to live my life to the fullest. To be the best person I can be within my home and my community. On bad days, I’ll give myself grace to be grumpy and not want any part of the outside world. On good days, I’ll give thanks for the sun or the rain and every blessing around me. I’ll set goals, I’ll learn new things. No matter what, life isn’t over until it’s over, and there are still lots of adventures beyond the seemingly endless pursuit of fixing my fertility problems. One day, I won’t be the girl behind this blog, but it will forever be my story. And for now, I resolve to keep at it. May God give you strength for whatever you face today. Until next time ~
I appreciate so many of you commenting on the Facebook page over the past couple of days about my second cycle ending in disappointment. It really is so good to be loved by you.
As I mentioned in the last post, I was fairly certain one week ago that I was not pregnant, and so, because I’ve had some time to stew already and get through PMS symptoms, I’m feeling okay. There’s definitely a battle within – a tug-of-war between flirting with bitter thoughts, then resisting them and trying to give thanks for how much I have been given. And I cannot forget that along each step of this journey, I have seen the kindness of God. Many of you reading this have been personally supportive to us, and it makes all the difference in the world. The compassion of our friends and family stands vigilantly in opposition to any charges I could make against the Lord. I simply cannot deny Him and His faithfulness to us. Just because we live in a fallen, unfair world, it doesn’t mean that God is not good. (…In fact, how could we even know what “good” or “fair” was without something ultimately good and righteous to be our measure?)
So we begin Cycle Three. Dr. Braverman has said that we will re-examine our approach if I do not get pregnant this cycle. I am not sure what that would mean – my first guess would be Clomid, an ovulation stimulating drug (my son HAS been praying for twins, haha); my second guess would be IVF. Goodness knows I don’t want to go that route unless we really, really had to. The cost would probably be prohibitive, and besides, I don’t know if I really could emotionally handle one more investment of money, time, travel, and, well, emotion. But anyway, we aren’t looking at that yet, and I just hope and pray we can get pregnant during this next cycle.
I have a large fundraiser coming up this week for my Pampered Chef business. I am grateful to have the opportunity to help out an organization that does great service for families, and I find it perfectly fitting that it will also help my family! Because of the fundraiser, I may not be posting much in the next week or two, but I do have plans to increase the amount of information on this site. I am also looking for volunteers to share their stories here during Infertility Awareness Week (April 21-27). If you or someone you know has had success with Reproductive Immunology or so-called “experimental” or “unproven” immune therapies for pregnancy, would you consider contacting me to share your story on my site? The purpose would just be to spread awareness that something more exists than traditional reproductive specialists practice. You can email me at sara at reprorenegade dot com. Thanks so much. Stay tuned!
I haven’t posted in a few weeks because there really is not much to report, save for daily injections and low-grade discontentment.
Life has been carrying on as I await the end of my cycle (the second one under Dr. Braverman’s immune treatment plan for my recurrent pregnancy losses) and wonder what the upcoming weeks will hold. Because I have not “felt” pregnant, I am feeling frustrated and discouraged. I am assuming already that I will begin my period and have to start the protocols all over again. Three sonograms, lots of blood work, the intralipids infusion, monitoring ovulation signs, avoiding all kinds of foods and wondering if any of it is even going to work or if I am just going to end up with a miscarriage again. I’ve got bruises all over from the daily injections. And I’m just moody. I beat myself up for getting annoyed at my kids, and I feel like a big fat jerk for whining about my problems when some people don’t have kids at all.
I’m getting to the point.
This past week, I believe I faltered in my ability to keep the vision of that for which I am striving. I am frustrated and impatient with the process. I’ve felt the “unfairness” of how difficult it is for us to have children and have been tempted to be angry. It feels like so many people out there just decide they’d like a baby, and they have the baby (even though 7.3 million Americans suffer with infertility.) For us, it hasn’t been our call. It’s “Us, 2, Miscarriage, 5.” The score is dreadfully uneven. People often remind me to be thankful for the ones I have. Yep. I know. I am. I have to say that this would be even worse if none of them had lived. I sorrowfully admit that for some women, they have only ever known an empty womb and empty arms, and it just makes me want to cry. And then there’s all the people who choose to abort, and that choice is upheld by women’s groups, but what about MY choice to not miscarry anymore? Who is standing up for that?? What about MY choice to have a house full of kids who drive me out of my mind? What does Planned Parenthood think of that? You see, I want to win. I want to defeat this disease of recurrent miscarriage. I have wanted a house full of kids ever since my own young years as an only child of divorced parents. It may not happen exactly as I imagined. But I can’t give up trying. This is the vision… this is my “why.” I struggle to hang on to it, but it is the reason I went to New York to see Dr. Braverman, and it’s the reason I started this blog – because I was ticked off that no one told me I still had a choice.
My three-year-old is a (terribly cute) wild animal who could make any person – parent or not – wonder why I want more kids when my hands are so full already. I ask myself, “Why am I trying so hard? Why don’t I just leave well enough alone?” It’s hard to remember back to 2011 when my belly was round with Baby #3 and how excited we were, because since losing her, we have lost two more and have had to walk through some very dark valleys. There were a few days in there that I literally wasn’t sure I would survive. And yet, like stepping stones appearing to Alice in the dark forest of Wonderland, one at a time, Providence has provided the path to where we are now. It’s certainly not the path I expected, nor would have chosen, but I do believe I am a more complete person for having traversed it. I wouldn’t erase what has been written, even though the story makes me cry sometimes like those sappy Nicholas Sparks novels. (No offense to Mr. Sparks – he is a great storyteller!)
We’ve all got to keep remembering our “why” in life. Everyone needs one. Sometimes it’s hard to press on, and having a vision for it helps us hang in there. Sometimes the “why” has to change — like it will for me if we can’t have more kids. There’s plenty to live for. Dreams have to adapt. Ultimately, I look forward to the day when the Author reveals His great big story and all the hardships will make sense. Yes, I really do believe in this. I trust that we are striving toward an existence beyond the sadness of this world, where “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more” (Revelation 21:4). In the very deepest sense, this is my “why,” and that hope will never fade, no matter how many children we lost or will lose.
My hope for this blog is that it can be a help and a blessing to others along the way. If you are reading this, would you join me on Facebook and help spread the word about new treatments for recurrent miscarriage and infertility? Consider getting involved in infertility advocacy, even if it just means sharing some information once a week on Facebook. Check out Keiko Zoll’s post on National Infertility Awareness Week (April 21-27) for ideas.
And hang on to your “why.” As a friend reminded me recently, every venture has valleys. Every “why” must be put to the test. You just never know when you or someone you love will get that piece of encouragement or bit of information they need to take the next step.
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been plugging along with my daily injections:
My friend Christie coached me through the proper technique for a subcutaneous injection – after hand-washing, cleansing the skin with alcohol, and making sure to get major air bubbles out of the needle, grab a pinch of your fatty tissue (the love handles are the easiest for me) and stick the needle in at a 45-degree angle.
My belly looks like I’ve served lunch to a hungry crew of bedbugs.
For a girl who burst into tears and was sent home when I once tried to donate blood, stabbing myself with needles every day is a pretty big accomplishment! I actually really like doing it, because it’s a sign of being treated for something previous doctors told me was untreatable. (I keep wanting to contact my former endocrinologist to tell them about Dr. Braverman, but I’m still trying to figure out how to walk the line between insulting their outdated methods and sweetly encouraging them to consider referring other patients to Dr. B. or doctors like him.)
I also like doing the injections because after seven pregnancies, five of which ended in miscarriage, do you know how many needles I’ve had stuck in me? Every pregnancy has to be confirmed by an HCG blood test, and every pregnancy has to be monitored with more blood work as it progresses. Then there’s all the times I’ve had spotting and was sent for blood work and sonograms, and then there’s the three times I’ve had to have a D&C. And more blood work when I visited specialists to find out what’s wrong. A part of me wishes I actually DID know how many times I’ve had needles stuck in me!
Anyway, after becoming a sort of expert in losing pregnancies, I’ve learned that you always need to look around you for the things for which you are grateful. (Have you read One Thousand Gifts, by the way?). I’ve found that it helps to have something to look forward to in case things don’t go according to plan…. For example, “Since I’m not going to be having a baby this summer, I think I will take up a new hobby/start exercising again/plan a trip to see that thing I’ve always wanted to see, etc., etc., etc.” I’ve experienced the unpredictability of life and have been changed by it. And I think life is just too short and too unpredictable to not pursue the things we love, to not have an adventure while we’re here. For all the times I’ve spent not being well – physically, mentally, emotionally – I now am truly grateful for when I am well and can enjoy life. I think I have taken on a “Just do it” mentality in many areas. Just talk to that person. Just love that person. Just try something new. Just stop worrying about the “shoulds” and what people will think, and just do something you like (as long as you’re not hurting someone or pursuing sin or running from your responsibilities, of course!).
Ecclesiastes says, “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?” Ultimately, it is the Giver of life who enables us to enjoy the gifts of life. And though I’ve had many a day where I wasn’t sure I’d ever enjoy life again, I can testify that He brought me through and restored my soul.
Well, this is going to sound silly now, but the one thing I had sitting on my shelf for the end of Cycle One was this:
I figured if we didn’t get pregnant this month, I’d have this to look forward to! I’m telling you, sometimes it’s the smallest things that provide that little bit of “joie de vivre.”
And the verdict is in, and I got to enjoy some wine with dinner with friends last night. Two great couples whom we are getting to know better these days. Friends who have suffered the loss of a baby and friends who have faithfully stood by their dear friend with a life-altering head injury. None of us at the table last night were strangers to the dark places of life. And each of us, in our own way, imperfectly, can still point to the goodness of God in the land of the living. It’s still a process, this daily walk in a fallen world, but we know we are not forsaken.
I wish I could expand more on this right now, but I’ve got a date with the penguin walk at the Pittsburgh Zoo this morning! I certainly can say I have not experienced this before, and just made the decision to go 10 minutes ago. I hope that you too, jump feet-first into life today and find something, no matter how small, to enjoy. God bless you today.
How do you care for your soul when you are grieving? Mostly, I know it’s just hard enough to get out of bed, or go to work, or make yourself eat. Some days are basic survival, others are more high-functioning. Nobody can tell you the right way to grieve. Nobody has the right to tell another person when their time to “get over it” has come. One thing I’ve learned: grief is personal and different for everyone, and there’s no textbook way to walk in it.
Before I created this site, I had a personal blog where I was just writing about my struggles as a mom. It wasn’t meant to be anything huge, but as fate had it, some of the writing I did there has a place here, too. I am calling that place “The Sorrow Pages.” It’s not glamorous and it’s not filled with awesome answers to the world’s problems. The pages there are snapshots into one woman’s (mine) timeline of grief and how I tried to process it from the core of my Christian faith.
I can tell you I still don’t understand the why of suffering, but processing my grief in an intentional way helped me resolve to keep trusting in the goodness of God. After all, the alternatives are that either there IS no God, and suffering is meaningless, or that God is not good.
So, since “holistic” means examining something as a whole, and we are spiritual as well as physical beings, I just wanted to use today to touch on the importance of feeding our souls with good things. Whether it’s by reading the Bible or other books, getting out of the house and enjoying nature, or taking time to explore a hobby, I just want to encourage every person to nourish their inner being. There’s still good in this world, and it is a gift to be enjoyed. If not today, then another time. But hang in there, and be reminded that deep sorrow will pass, just as the winter gives way to spring.
The Sorrow Pages can be found in the black bar at the top of the website.
Today, February 25, 2013, was a landmark day for us.
Today, I got this:
(No, that’s not a vanilla milkshake in an IV!)
Today, it’s been:
By the way, it’s been twelve years since ACOG updated its guidelines for treating women like me. Not sure what’s up with that, but the trickle-down effect hurts real people.
Today, I sat in the Infusion Therapy department of my local hospital in western Pennsylvania, receiving a 600 cc infusion of intralipids under the directive of Dr. Braverman in New York. Intralipids contain essential fatty acids and were originally intended as high-calorie nutrition for patients who could not maintain an oral diet. Somewhere along the way, doctors discovered that they can help settle down Natural Killer (NK) cell activity and make a woman’s body more amenable to an embryo. (I like the explanation here.)
It did kind of look like a milkshake in a bag, though.
In the past few years, I’ve had specialists test me for myriads of things and tell me there was nothing they could find. I’ve had specialists tell me that there really wasn’t any other type of doctor nor anything else that existed to help women like me. I’ve had a specialist tell me things I now know were wrong. I’ve searched high and low for answers, knowing, as only a woman can, that there was something wrong with my body. And by God’s grace, I found that help that supposedly wasn’t out there, and today, a very real needle was in my arm to (hopefully) start fixing what is broken.
Today, I see myself sitting at the peak of a mountain. I am looking out at the vista before me, and I feel at peace. It has been a very long climb.
The intralipids were just one part of the process. The rest of Dr. Braverman’s protocols are as follows:
If I don’t get pregnant this cycle, then I guess this all starts over again next month. If I do get pregnant, then Dr. B will keep monitoring and make recommendations as needed.
I can’t say “Thank you” enough to everyone who has prayed for us, said kind words, made meals when we were in mourning, watched our kids, asked how we are doing, and otherwise supported us along the way. And I certainly cannot stay quiet about the tremendous work the Lord has done in answering prayers and leading us to Dr. Braverman.
“This God – His way is perfect;
the word of the Lord proves true;
He is a shield for all those who take refuge in Him.
…He made my feet like the feet of a deer
and set me secure on the heights.”
~ Psalm 18:30, 33
Seinfeld fans may remember the episode “The Junk Mail” in which Kramer tried to cancel his mail. He was so fed up with Pottery Barn catalogs and other unsolicited items that he walked straight into the post office and said, “I want out — permanently.”
Secretly, we all want to opt out, don’t we? To not have the hassle of opening envelopes, sorting through junk and catalogs, and adding to the clutter of our already cluttered American homes? But we know we can’t. We can’t really get by without the postal service, and what fun would it be, really, to not receive cards, packages, and, oh, the Pottery Barn catalog? But like most Seinfeld episodes, the concept is genius nonetheless.
Well, this cool thing happened the other day and I was really glad there hadn’t been a way for me to opt out of the annoying junk mail I receive all the time. American Express sent me a credit card offer (woopittydoo) and I was all set to send it to the shredder until I saw this:
Zero percent APR on purchases for 15 months. PURCHASES. For 15 months. Hello!!! I immediately thought of how we had recently juggled our credit card debt around when our bank offered a zero percent interest deal and no balance transfer fees. We sent our $2000-plus Braverman bills (and, ahem, dinner in Little Italy) and other debt flying, and now at least we aren’t paying interest on those expenses. (My Pampered Chef business is making remarkable strides in paying that debt down!)
So when I saw this deal, I picked up the phone and immediately called American Express. I was approved and given a minimal credit line, but at least I can start charging any fertility expenses to this card if need be, and know we won’t pay interest on it in addition to the duty of just having to pay it in the first place.
Say what you will about the credit industry, but I still think it is a huge blessing when you need the flexibility of paying later (after all, my biological clock can’t wait). It’s a wonderful tool when used properly. There have been many times in our marriage when we’ve shuffled outstanding debts to zero percent interest cards just to have less pressure to pay them off. And God has always provided for us to pay them off … especially at tax time.
This offer came at the perfect time also, since I just TODAY received my doctor’s prescriptions for my Lovenox, Neupogen, intralipids, and other stuff that I’m not sure will even be covered by insurance. Dr. Braverman’s staff is helping me sort out all the billing details, and I’m waiting for some ovulation test kits to arrive from Amazon. I hope you’ll forgive my plans to NOT share the ins and outs of my cycle here, but I will keep updating as much as appropriate! It’s starting to feel real. We may be able to have another baby. We have come a long way, and I thank each and every person that has been alongside us, whether for the long-term, or even just leaving an encouraging comment here or on Facebook. I am humbled and grateful for you all.