Thoughts at the end of a bad week

I’ll just preface this with saying that it’s been a bad week.

Today I would have been almost 32 weeks pregnant.  But 16 weeks ago my Abby died.  She’s been gone from me longer than she was with me now.  I don’t know how I walk around with this empty hole in my chest.

So then after trying to come to grips with her loss and planning to move forward, today was supposed to be the day that I was going to get knocked up again via FET.  But, since I made a horrible decision on the day my Abby left me, I now have a lead weight in my abdomen right below the gaping hole in my chest.

I just cannot wrap my brain around my life, the things that have happened to me that I had no control over and the bad decisions I made that I did have control over.  I thought I could move forward but I just can’t right now.

I wish I had just stopped TTC after Sweetie.  I would have had three miscarriages and then one beautiful baby.  I wish I would have stopped then.  I would have been a far happier person (not happy, because I would have always felt like I wanted more babies) but I wouldn’t have destroyed everything else in my life by pushing through two more 1st trimester miscarriages and then the 2nd trimester loss.  I would have been a far better mother if I had just stopped after having Sweetie.  I would have been a far better wife if I had just stopped.  I wouldn’t have hated my body so much- I would have carried her to term and breast fed her for over a year and stopped while I still felt like my body could still do something ‘right’.  I would have been sad that I only had my one child, but I wouldn’t have wished for my own death every single day like I do now.  I wouldn’t have lost so many friends because I’m just a shitty, awkward person to be around because everyone just doesn’t know what to say and they feel sorry for me (and in the same breath they are really, REALLY happy that they don’t have to go through the shit I have).

I found out this week that two ‘friends’ are pregnant- not just new pregnancies or hitting the 2nd trimester.  Like 17 and 18 weeks pregnant.  Where I was when my little girl died.  And as if that isn’t enough- one of them found out she was pregnant the very week my little girl died.  She got a great Mother’s Day present and I had every future Mother’s Day ruined for me for the rest of my life.  She got to celebrate life and I once again just get stuck with death.  And grieving.  And grieving.

My psychiatrist says that my depression/anxiety meds are working ‘well’-  Um, ok, glad I’m paying you out the wazoo for this appointment when I don’t agree with you.  She doesn’t want to ‘overmedicate’ me so I don’t properly grieve.  What the hell?  Please, just overmedicate me.  I need something.  Anything.






I talked to an old friend yesterday.  One of those friends who you keep in touch with only once a year or so but its very easy to just have that infrequent conversation.

She has had a very rough life situation the past year- her husband racked up tons of credit card debt, stopped paying their bills/mortgage and they lost their house (they have 3 children).  She has been through the wringer with this and it’s still a big mess to continue to ‘fix’ as best she can with lawyers and such.

She said she wanted to talk to me because I wasn’t as close to the situation and didn’t live in the same town.  She feels she has effectively lost 90% of her friends she would have defined as close because of this awkward horrible situation her husband put her in.  These friends were the ones she did coffee with every week and the ones who called themselves auntie for her children, etc.  She imagined that they just didn’t know what to say to her so they have just cut her off.

Sound familiar?  I haven’t shared my history with this friend beyond her hearing about my 16w loss of Abby.  She doesn’t know about any of the other babies, nor does she know there won’t be any more that I carry in the future (I just wanted to let her talk, it wasn’t the time or place for me to share).  But the similarities of how we both feel following a significant loss/situation just blew me away.

I really think my friendship is over with a good handful of friends.  I don’t know how much more understanding I am supposed to be over the fact that they couldn’t bother to contact me or talk to me after my latest miscarriage.  It’s odd, because these were the friends who actually knew I was pregnant (the ones who call me now are the ones who didn’t know).  They had been so ‘happy’ for me when I told them at 12 weeks that I was pregnant.  And now I haven’t heard from all but one of them (in my supposed close group).  I put myself out there and invited them to my Sweetie’s upcoming 2nd birthday party.  I didn’t hear from a single one, not a single ‘hey, got the invite, sorry we can’t make it.  BTW, how are you guys doing?’  I don’t think it’s possible to feel more deserted or alone by the people you called your friends.  I guess I just picked the wrong people or mistakenly counted on the wrong people to be there in hard times.

And now, even if they did come back in awhile, I wouldn’t trust ever again that they could be there.  Maybe we could repair a surface relationship, but I won’t ever let myself open up to them again.  You shouldn’t need walls up to protect yourself from ‘friends’ abandonment.  It’s just awful to feel this alone.

The little girl I lost

I was also on vacation when I finally heard from my OB that the last genetic testing came back perfectly normal on the little girl I lost.   That was my last straw of hope for some explanation as to why her perfect little heart stopped beating.  Some explanation that doesn’t come down to my body failing me and my babies yet again.  Some explanation that doesn’t come back to the universe or God just piling more shit on my plate for some ultimate ‘reason’ that I’ll never understand.

I named her, and I wanted to share that with you.

Abigail Mary

My sweet little girl I lost on Mother’s Day.  My Sweetie’s little sister she’ll never get to meet.  My husband’s second daughter and second chance at having a Daddy’s girl (because Sweetie is pretty 70/30 Mommy’s girl).

We have never named any of our babies that we’ve lost before.  We never really agreed on girl’s names to begin with (not even Sweetie’s name, I had to badger him for months about that and in the end I think he just gave in because I had just labored for 30+ hours and pushed her out!)  My husband still didn’t want to name this 6th lost baby, so I will just carry her name in my heart alone.

I’m  feeling a bit guilty about not naming my others now, but losing my 6th baby girl is just so much later and harder than any other of my losses.  I had to honor my baby that I saw so many times on the ultrasound (weekly u/s when you have RPL), heard her little heartbeat so many times, carried her for 16 weeks.

My little Abby.  I love her and miss her every moment of every day.

Silence of the Friends

Where do all the friends go when you have a major loss?  Have yours stuck by your side or do you feel more alone than ever?

I (thought I) had a great core group of friends who all knew I suffered from RPL, we were all first time moms with one child each about the same ages.  They were all excited when I told them at 12 weeks that I was pregnant, because they knew I had been through so much to get there.  Two of them were trying to get pregnant at the time (I was helping one of them with her questions about infertility as she wasn’t ovulating), one has an IUD (doesn’t want another baby yet), and the last one thinks she’s too old (has one tube and pretty bad pre-eclampsia with her only child).

I haven’t heard from any of them in weeks.  I texted them on that horrible Mother’s Day in a shock, because I was sitting there alone, had already texted my husband and just didn’t know what else to do.  Since that day, I have gotten a smattering of texts, two FB private messages, and one of them came over once for a playdate.  In 8 weeks.

On the one hand, I don’t blame them in the least.  I don’t want to be around myself- I’m depressed, angry, cry at random things at random times, etc.  I try to keep it in check when I’m in public, but I’m sure I’m not coming across as perky or over-the-top fun right now.  I know people don’t know what to say- most people don’t want to say the ‘wrong’ thing (or sound like an insensitive jerk) for fear of making it worse.  And the two who are trying to get pregnant, I kind of get that, too.  Honestly, I don’t know if I could take watching a swelling little bump on either of them right now (granted, I have no idea if either or both are pregnant yet).

On the other hand, I feel so dropped by my friends and alone in the world that it’s not even funny.  Aren’t your good friends the one who don’t care if you are crying at random times about your lost baby?  Aren’t they the ones who are supposed to ask how you are and if you respond with a lie that you’re ‘ok’ that they push for a real answer?  Aren’t they the ones who come over anyway when you’re sitting by yourself or make plans they know they can include you in?

I told at least 3 of the 4 via text or FB that I felt much safer with home playdates- I hate going to public places where I don’t know how many pregnant women I’ll see and I really hate the random trigger that makes me cry in public.  So I’m totally ok when they go to the public kids play gym and don’t invite Sweetie and me.  Then why do I see on Facebook that they all met at someone’s house for a playdate in the backyard and never invited us?   Ouch.  My husband says I should just be the social coordinator and invite them, but I feel like I have a majorly hard time reaching out right now- I just feel so freaked about rejection and so overwhelmed at trying to make plans for a group, that I just don’t feel like I can.  One more reason to shut down Facebook so I don’t have to see all my old friends having a fun summer without us.

Working on a plan

Day 7 of provera and still no period, although I guess it’s not technically supposed to start until after I stop the pills.  I still hate the waiting!

I met with my OB this morning and she was wonderful.  They did put us in the conference room, so I didn’t have to endure the exam rooms  (so the mean receptionist came through- I thanked her when I checked out!).  And bottom line is that my OB is willing to do anything and everything to try to help us out with a future pregnancy, even ordering possibly odd therapies that are not ‘approved’.  It’s so helpful to hear her say that, because you hit a point where you wonder if your doctors are really trying to help you as a person instead of just treat you so they can be done with you (or move you off to another doctor because you are complicated with so many losses).

I did hear some extremely frustrating news at my appointment-  I told my OB’s colleague (my OB was not on call when my last baby died) that I wanted all possible genetic and pathologic testing done on my baby (even though we had done PGS and believed the baby to have normal chromosomes).  I wanted a microarray done in addition to the standard tests.  Well, they did attempt to do a microarray and they just confirmed last week that they did the microarray testing on me.  Now, I can understand that things get contaminated when a fetus is only a few weeks along, the fetal tissue is not as easy to distinguish.  But I lost my baby at 16 WEEKS.  My baby was almost 6 inches long.  How could they not get a clean tissue sample for the microarray?  My OB expressed similar annoyance.  So they think now that they do have fetal cells isolated/growing that they can test by the end of the week.  Fingers crossed.

Honestly, I don’t expect to really learn anything more.  I think everything is going to come back normal.  But I would be so angry to lose a piece of the puzzle when we could have had it.  More information and data always feels useful to me, I guess that’s just the kind of person I am.

And no word from Agency S-  ARGH, they are so bad with communication.  Nothing on that front, unfortunately.

The worst weekend of my life

So having recurrent miscarriages, you’re never really supposed to feel ‘safe’ in pregnancy.  Except I did, that was my big mistake.

We did IVF with PGS, so we knew we had a chromosomally normal baby.  I had ultrasounds every week to check in on my little bean.  She had a perfect heartbeat every time.  We had an NT scan at 12w5d and everything was normal, low odds of issues.  I was one day shy of 16 weeks pregnant, so things are supposed to be fine now.  None of my other losses had made it this far, I thought my problem was losing babies early on.  I had made it to this point with my daughter, so I really thought I’d be ok.

I checked the heartbeat Friday night with my home doppler- everything was good.  Found it right away in the 160s.  Woke up on Saturday and we did some chores.  Headed to Home Depot to buy some flowers, planted them in the afternoon.  My husband cautioned me to take it easy, so I just stood around most of the time.  We made burgers and apple crisp for dinner, what a lovely Spring night.  The next day was Mother’s Day, so my husband and I were making plans.  We talked a little bit about baby names before heading to bed.  I had a feeling that the baby was a girl, but we could never agree on a girl name!  Boy’s names were easy.

I went up to bed while my husband finished some emails and I wanted to listen to my baby again, just really quick.  I couldn’t find the heartbeat for several minutes, which was pretty odd.  I had had that happen once before, so I took a drink of water and walked around and then tried again.  Still nothing.  My husband told me not to panic and was trying to blame the doppler, saying that maybe it needed new batteries.  I knew.  I just knew.  I remember telling him that I was 90% certain that our baby was dead.  I don’t know how I went to sleep that night, I said I would try again in the morning.  But I knew.

Sunday morning was Mother’s Day.  I woke up at 430 and knew I wanted to check again with the doppler.  Hoping against hope that she was just hiding.  Nothing.  I went into the ER later that morning and it was confirmed.  My baby didn’t have a heartbeat anymore.  I am still haunted by the view of that ultrasound-  her not moving and no heartbeat.  I wish I hadn’t looked at the screen, it’s the worst image I’ve ever seen and it’s caused nightmares.  She measured right on- 16w, so I was given the choice to deliver her or have a D&C.  In the moment, I couldn’t imagine being induced.  I just wanted the horror of this all to be over.  I wanted my heart to stop beating, too, and it felt like it had.  How many times can one person handle their heart being ripped out?  And on Mother’s Day.  I don’t know what you believe in, God or the Universe or whatever, but that just seems extra cruel.

I want my baby.  My sweet little girl who was so wanted, who we tried so hard to have.  My daughter’s little sister that she’ll never get to meet.  I hate my body for not keeping her alive so I could meet her.

Why a blog?

I’m not a typical blogger.  I’ve found many blogs that I like to check into every now and again, but I’m not a writer.  I like to ramble and don’t want to have to edit my stream of thoughts.

But I’ve found myself feeling so completely alone after my last miscarriage, miscarriage #6.  The one that happened after a dozen ultrasounds assured me that my baby was healthy, growing on track, perfect.  There are groups on Facebook that talk about recurrent miscarriage and groups on BabyCenter to talk about losses in the 2nd/3rd trimester, and then there’s supposed to be my friends in real life.  Oh and my husband (who truly is a wonderful man, btw).  And yet it still feels like there’s no one there.  No one who understands, no one who wants to understand.  Hell, if it wasn’t my life that I was dealing with, *I* wouldn’t want to understand.  I don’t want to be around myself so why should I expect that anyone else wants to be around me?

So I’m putting it out here.  Maybe someday I can look back and see how far I’ve come.  Maybe I’ll read my ramblings and make sense of it all.