Category Archives: Miscarriage

The One About Land Rovers

s-l1600I remember back at the beginning, when there was still the excitement.

I looked online at articles with titles like “Cute Ways to Tell Your Husband You’re Pregnant!”.  I’ve never liked those types of public announcements, where posts to social media were supposed to be cute but (IMO) were a little cringey!

I didn’t have the desire to share joy with everyone, but my sentimental husband would have appreciated something meaningful to mark our next big step.

I had a little note pinned to my office wall to remind me of the idea I came up with.  Cut a Land Rover stencil out, create a stenciled image on a onesie.  Wrap, gift.

Joy.

But as time went on, that joy and excitement wavered.

When it happens, will be be excited or scared?

Do we take for granted that our struggle is over and that we will have a baby to fill that piece of clothing?

When the time came, a cute announcement didn’t even cross my mind.  A faint positive isn’t much to get your hopes up on, and then the worry about organising and waiting for blood test results means our excitement was put on hold.

I hadn’t even thought of this again until today.  That piece of paper has long gone off my office wall, I don’t even remember taking it down.

I feel like we have been robbed of so much.

The naivety, the innocence.  When I hear about someone getting pregnant easily with a planned baby, I just can’t fathom it!  You decide to have a baby and then you get pregnant and have the baby?  That is so far beyond my comprehension that it seems like a movie.  You mean, that *actually* happens in real life?

We didn’t purposely do anything sentimental for that pregnancy, we had a couple of weeks of rollercoaster emotions with no chance to settle in one spot.  But my husband had bought an old Land Rover a few days before we got that light pink line, and so I was a little over 4 weeks pregnant when he travelled a few hours to pick it up.

I’d forgotten about that with the chaos and heartache that followed.

But he remembered, telling me some months ago that it’s special to him because of that time, because it marks a memory, even though it’s ended up being a sad one.

Maybe it’s paralleling our life that he’s still restoring that Land Rover almost 2 years later, as we are still also restoring our hearts and working towards our finish.  That he’s spent years stripping it back, pulling it apart and now slowly putting it back again.  I feel like maybe that’s us too, coming to accept what is, trying to find ways around the rust.

Piecing our future back together with the hand we have been dealt.

Advertisements

Subconscious Messages

I’ll admit that I got my hopes up this month.

It doesn’t happen often, the strange, unexplained symptoms I have always show up on day 21, just in time to thwart any potential implantation. This cycle it came and went, and I wondered if something was different this time.

Is my body finally starting to play ball?

Then I had a dream.

———————————————————-

In my dream, my husband found three pregnancy tests, all showing positive. But all were negative, I knew it; all were evaporation lines. My husband didn’t believe me and so I tried to convince him.

“I’m not pregnant, I’m not. I promise I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant, I’m not pregnant. Please don’t get your hopes up, I’m not pregnant”.

I had been to the hospital for something else and to make sure, they had done an ultrasound. I showed him the picture, my empty womb confirming my words.

I’m not pregnant.
———————————

I’m near the end of this cycle, and I’ve come to realise that I ovulated late this month. My cycle has continued along as “normal”, albeit just a few days later than usual.

I’m not pregnant, I know I’m not. I got my hopes up for once, and my subconsious tried to being me back to earth using my dream. Even when I’m sleeping my brain tries to protect me.

I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, with two friends due in the next month or two. These people got pregnant after my baby was due, and almost grown whole babies, while I’m still in the same place as two and a half years ago. It’s heartbreaking. I can’t be happy for them. I cry when I think about accidently running into one of them.

It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday… it would have been my first Mother’s Day, but instead it’s my second as a mother with no baby.

——————————————————-

My dream had a second half too.

My husband and I were walking along; him holding that ultrasound picture. That still empty picture.

But he was grasping it, looking at it in wonder… in awe. I couldn’t understand.

And then he turned to me with tears gleaming in his eyes and said,
“I can’t believe we have a picture of where he lived”.

Not worshiping at the good doctor’s feet.

You Just Leave The Place Now.

 

I’m going to tell you a story. Not all stories are good I’m afraid. You know this, you’re here reading. But I’ve been reading about gender bias in the medical field and I want to share my story.

This involves a Doctor who is an obstetrician and gynaecologist.

A little over a year ago I was chasing my Doctor for blood test results. Specifically, hcg results. I’d had my first blood over a week before which included testing my progestertone as I had been testing low and I knew it could affect early pregnancy. I’d since done a second beta test with no results, the only communication I had was to repeat the beta.

After the second one and feeling frustrated at no results (I knew they’d be in by then), I called to find out what was going on. I did not know if my progesterone was fine and nothing to worry about, nor that status of my pregnancy. He hadn’t looked at it so his receptionist was going to call back the next day.

She didn’t.

I called again the day after, he still hadn’t looked at the piece of paper nearly a week later. He was too busy. But I’d had bleeding and this was my baby we were talking about, so in order to get some news I made an appointment (see $$$$).

When I got in the room, he made a dig about me calling. Twice in two weeks, after I’d had two blood tests. Like I was stupid for wanting an answer. Like I was just a silly little girl, a nagging woman who was hysterical and over the top. Like it wasn’t my right to know what the blood taken from my own body was saying. Like my miracle wasn’t important.

And then he told me I was losing my baby, and how ‘it wasn’t realy what we wanted to happen’, but that he’d suspected as much for TWO WEEKS and didn’t bother telling me.

That was two weeks of fear, of trying to stifle excitement, of coming to some sort of acceptance and even starting to feel brave enough to browse baby gear.  All for no reason.

Every time I saw him last year he made me feel stupid. He ignored my symptoms, he told me “they might not be a problem”, even though that was the whole reason my GP referred me to him in the first place. He’s never told me anything specific, he’s never mentioned a single number to me when looking at results. He’s never asked me specific questions, like the first cycle when I told him I’d ovulated already, and instead of asking how I knew, he disagreed. (FYI, the blood test said yes).

He used words like ‘tummy’ when he spoke to me.

He took hundreds of dollars off me for a prescription I’m not even sure I needed because one cycle when he tested me I didn’t ovulate (which is one of two annovulatory cycles I’ve had since coming off birth control, in the realms of normal). Maybe he’s right, but he wouldn’t listen to anything I said, nor tell me his thought process.

He touched me every time I walked into his office. I mean, of course he has to sometimes and it feels like an intrusion, but I mean as I walked past him into his office, every time. Maybe he thought it was friendly and comforting, but the fact that it sits in my brain means I feel differently.

In other inappropriate behaviour, he records his notes out loud with the door to his waiting room open. He chats to his receptionist about patients, and she asks inappropriate questions (“will we see you back!?”, just after I’d been told I was going to lose my baby… what do you say to that?). He finds it humerous that my husband has a severe anxiety disorder, with a big trigger being anything medical, and that I will not push him to give a sperm sample. Because that’s what I really want, to link anxiety, medical procedures and sexual activity.*

I have not taken the last four rounds of clomid prescribed to me because I don’t think it’s really making much of a difference, and whatever issue I have is unrelated to ovulation. It’s frustrating talking like this after so long, in general broad terms.  I’m not unexplained but I have no explanation. I have a group of symptoms that he basically didn’t even ask me any questions about.

I am wounded by this. It took me a full year after the miscarriage episode to realise how angry I am about how I was treated, and to understand why I would come home and cry after every appointment with him. Every time I saw him, he took my confidence, he took my sense of knowing myself by undermining what I told him. I know what I know about myself, I am an expert on my body and it’s happenings, and every time I tried to bring up my concerns he made me feel like I was some pathetic creature who should just worship at his all knowing feet.

When I got home after the last time I saw him, I got mad at the stupidist thing. I was stomping around and huffing and sighing when my husband pulled me into his arms. The tears came out of nowhere, and I told him that with every appointment it seemed like having a family was slipping further and further away. There was never a plan or a direction, the last two visits were basically him printing out a prescription and telling me he wasn’t interested.

This is why I can’t go back there, and when I have the money to start from scratch again, I’ll be looking for a female doctor. I need to feel safe, I need to feel listened to. I need someone to understand that I may not fit into a box and to work with me on that.

I need to feel like I am not a pay cheque, and that I am valuable and have knowledge. I need to not be talked down to and I need to be informed.

I need to feel like I have control of my body and my choices.

I need to feel like I have a chance.

 

*I know this is an important step, but I obviously have something wrong with me. If I was good as gold and we still weren’t getting anywhere, perhaps I’d get into this more. But at this stage, we know I need some fixing. Even if my husband had a low count (and bear in mind his sperm has done their job once, kind of), I would not be open to IUI or IVF with my current symptoms as I believe it would just be a waste. Aside from that, my husbands anxiety would definitely make it impossible for him to give a sample AT a clinic which basically rules us out of going down this route.

 

A new year – 2016

Wow, 2015 sped by.

I feel like I’m being fairly accurate in saying that 2015 kicked my butt.  A pregnancy in January (“wow, this might be our year!”), following by a crushing miscarriage meant the year started with a great emotional roller coaster and continued that way.

It was a year of hope with starting clomid, grief, anger and sadness.  It ended with the last week of 2015 finding out that two of my childhood friends (sisters) were pregnant.

With the first, I figured it out and coped well.  The second told me nicely privately via Facebook and I cried.  My heart has never pounded so hard.  We have been trying as long as her first child has been on this earth, and now she’s on her second. 

I thought I got through last year reasonably well mentally, but with the new year starting and some time to reflect, I realise I’m really struggling underneath.

I thought I was otherwise happy, but I’m not sure if I remember how to be.  I can’t remember what life was like without this constant infertility highlights reel playing in my mind.  It’s only one of the pretty big challenges I’m facing and none of them look to have any resolution.

I feel hopeless.  I really feel like I will fall apart if another year passes like this.

But I am so scared.  I need to find another doctor but it also feels like this is our last chance. My last doctor made the whole process so much worse (yes, good old 2015 strikes again!), but what if I find a new one and I still don’t get any answers?  Where will I find the money for this?  What if 2016 brings finality, but not in a good way?  

What if things don’t get better?