Tag Archives: makin’ babies

a new normal

I’ve not exactly avoided coming here, though there hasn’t been much to say.

In October, Graham and I were both tested, and aside from a small fibroid on my uterus, everything seems to be good. My egg reserves were apparently “unusually good” for a person my age, and the doctor thought that the main thing that was wrong was our age. So I flew home early from Thanksgiving to begin the IUI process. The first month I had follicles that were 18, 15 and 11 mm. I didn’t get pregnant. The second month, I had a cyst on one of my ovaries and we skipped. The third month, I had follicles that were 26 and 24 mm. I didn’t get pregnant. And the fourth month was just weird.

We’re in the 5th month now, and we’re skipping the cycle. My doctor still thinks that everything looks good from the technical side of things. He just thinks my body is waiting for the perfect egg, and with my age, they’re not as common as they used to be. He still thinks the IUI will work, and Graham and I have talked about how far we’re willing to take this. I think two more cycles and then we start talking about what else.

The rest of my life seems to be coming together better now.

I just finished a 40 days of yoga experiment at a local studio, and I think I’m going to stick with it. Graham and I are in the planning stages of the house expansion, and we’re getting closer and closer to construction. We went to Taos for a week last month, and I think it invigorated both of us to get moving on projects. I feel more connected to myself than I have since I lost the pregnancy, and I think I care a lot more now. 2013 was a very stressful year for me, and I think it took all of 2014 to recover.

I feel like writing again. I feel like doing projects again. I feel like exercising again. I’m watching what I eat again.  Everything is not perfect, but I feel a lot better about things.  And maybe that’s the key.

A year

A year ago today, I found out I was pregnant. I thought that this year would go drastically different than it turned out to, but I suppose nothing I really plan for happens.

Ironically enough, I’m in the two week wait period of my cycle. I have two more days before my period is supposed to start. Right now, I don’t feel like I’m pregnant or I’m not pregnant. I suppose I stopped really focusing on that sort of thing awhile ago.

What I am feeling is grossly overweight. I probably put on the pregnancy weight without actually going through the whole pregnancy. I am just now beginning to climb out of that particular fog, but it’s not pleasant. I went to the gym on Wednesday, and running was harder than it’s been in years. I know the cure to that is just more running, but I’m not looking forward to this at all. On the bright side, I bought a bike and am looking forward to using it for quick trips around the neighborhood. There’s a yoga studio not far from my house that I like, and it’s a lot easier to bike than drive due to minimal parking. I’m hopeful that a bike will help me get moving again.

There’s a better than good chance that I might actually be pregnant. I’m on Clomid again. Graham has also done some things in the last few months that have risen some of his levels. We certainly took care of the act of baby making in the period of time we’re supposed to. If I am pregnant, my due date is right at New Years, and the schedule is almost exactly what it would have been last year. We’ll see. Part of me is optimistic, but part of me is terrified of hoping for too much.

And another month.

My temperature dropped today. It’s not an unusual thing for the end of the month, but it was something of an unusual cycle.   I didn’t ovulate until well after 20 days (I’m not exactly sure when), my temperatures have been zig zagging, and on Monday, I saw a teeny tiny drop of blood.  I thought I might be pregnant again.  The timing was right, and I thought that maybe it was implantation bleeding.

Today is the 31st day of this cycle, which is just insane for someone who needs medical intervention to get over 27 days.  And while I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant, a tiny part of me is still holding out hope.  It probably will be until I see blood, and then I’ll hit a depression for a few hours.  And then I’ll start planning for the next cycle.

It’s a cycle that I’ve gotten used to over this pregnancy planning thing.  I don’t really like it, but I don’t hate it either. I’ve gotten used to the ebbs and flows of my cycles, though they’ve been less consistent after miscarriage than they were before.

I don’t really know if I have a point, or great insight, but I suppose I feel compelled to mark the month where I would have given birth and the true end of this particular journey.

37

I would have been 37 weeks pregnant this week.  That’s more or less when it’s not so dangerous to deliver. The extra three weeks are for cooking time, but delivery any point between now and 42 is not particularly unexpected.  Since I was carrying twins, maybe I would have been induced or scheduled for a C-section early. But then, if I hadn’t been carrying twins, maybe it wouldn’t have ended the way it did.  Maybe that particular sperm or that particular egg or that particular combination of genes was more at fault for the miscarriage than the fact that the blastocyst split.  It’s impossible to know, and it’s not really worth dwelling on.

I knew that this would be a hard time for me. And it has been. And it hasn’t been.  Every now and then I think about it and I get sad. But it’s not all consuming or dominating.  I forget about it a lot.

After the D&C, I was remarkably ok with things. We didn’t really tell that many people about it until July.  I think most of our close friends know now, but it wasn’t something I was particularly wanting to talk about when it first happened.  But at the same time, I wasn’t destroyed by it.  It was hard and awful and I don’t want to go through it again. But at the same time, it wasn’t the end of the world for me or for Graham.  And to be honest, until the due date started rapidly approaching, I didn’t think about that particular pregnancy much at all.

My mind plays a lot of what-if’s games.  I probably wouldn’t have even considered talking to that new job if we’d been able to carry the pregnancy to term.  I probably would have tons of Christmas presents for the babies, even though they weren’t due until a few days after.  Maybe we would have moved forward on the house expansion already? I’d be ready to pop any second, hoping that the weeks would fly by sooner so I could meet them.

But instead, we’re still trying.  I’m a little worried because my cycles have been abnormal once or twice since the miscarriage.  This cycle, it took forever to ovulate, and I’m pretty sure that it’ll be closer to 32 days long rather than my usual 26 or so.  In September, I had one that was 23 days.  Graham has also been a little worried, but he’s more proactive and went to a doctor and is doing something.   I’m instead trying to lose what would have been baby weight.  I forgot that I stress eat, and I’m not feeling particularly good about my body.

Still, I am hopeful that we will be able to get me pregnant, and the next time will be much, much better than the first.  I was hoping to be pregnant by my due date, but I think that’s very unlikely unless I pee on a stick next week.

36

I have another 36 hours until the next sonogram.  Yesterday’s wait was worse than today’s but I think it was because I was still in shock.  Now I’m just resigned to wait.  I suppose four days isn’t as bad as the four week wait for the first appointment.  But still.

I seem to have decided to feel extra pregnant today.  I was super tired all day, as tired as I was when I first found out I was pregnant.  I also was nauseous all day.  Not quite at the danger level of losing my lunch, but close.  My cervical fluids have picked up too, which thus far in this pregnancy haven’t been all that present. Maybe this is some sort of sign that I’m moving in the right direction? Maybe it’s psychological and I’m making myself feel pregnant in some weird effort to hold on to the babies.  I do keep testing my boobs to see if they’re still sore.  Yep.

It’s so strange to know that I’ve got two of them in there, but only one, if any, is likely to make it.  I didn’t even know about the other two days ago, but already I’m mourning it’s loss. I imagine if I lose both, it’ll be pretty awful.

I’m prepared for that, I think. I know that if I lose it, it really wasn’t meant to be on a fundamental level. I know that it wasn’t ever going to make it, and all the “what ifs” in the world wouldn’t change the result in the slightest.  And I know that I can get pregnant.  That’s really critical, because if I did it in mid-April, I can do it in June or July or whenever my cycles pick up again.

I miss Graham, but I’m glad that we’re both doing what works best for us.  He needs distraction, and I need solitude.  He needs to be with his people. I want to be as far from people as possible.  He checks in on me, and I know that he loves me.  But this is good for both of us, and I think we’d both be miserable if we were together waiting around for me to miscarry.  I can keep myself busy, and I know that he’s in a place that’s safe for him.

It’s quiet in the house.  The puppies have worn themselves out, and I’ve gotten everything ready for the evening.  I’m going to go to bed early tonight, with fresh sheets and the whole bed to myself.  It sounds rather luxurious.