What we thought we knew based on what we have been told

What we were told:
Your a woman, a breeder. Your big b00bs and wide hips will serve you well. Go forth, have fun. You'll know. You'll glow.

What it is:
Bleeding is normal. Women just like you have successful pregnancies everyday. Well at least you know you can get pregnant. You can have another. It will happen when you least expect it.

I heard from a dear friend last night. She is 27 weeks pregnant after having an early loss the same time as my first loss. She and her partner did it DIY - at home insemination with a known donor. They are dear friends and will make wonderfully delicious parents. They ooze love, in the best way possible. Their journey has been difficult and unconventional. I am, I have been, pulling for them all along.

S.'s first trimester was tough. Lots of bleeding. Then, on two separate occasions they got bad news from a genetics councilor. Once, they were advised they had a 1 in 3 chance of downs. Everything turned out ok. Next, they were informed of a rare chromosomal issue, which S. now knows she carries. She has passed it to her son. He a few weeks behind in growth because her placenta has not developed properly. She was on her way to the doctor with a packed bag this morning, expecting to be admitted to the hospital and kept on strict bedrest.

Pregnancy is not at all what either S. or I thought it would be. I am so alarmed by this fairytale we have all been taught to believe. No one ever tells you you might get your heart broken. No one ever tells you that it is possible to fail. Even when you ultimately have a real, live baby, you may have just experienced one of the most physically and emotionally taxing 9 months of your life. And if you had trouble getting pregnant in the first place - you can double or triple that 9 months - in both physical and emotion pain.

I have learned to stop expecting. I don't envision I am walking into a hopeless cloud of doom, but I am cautious. I know now that I should be critical of my own expectations. That your body, your mind, your life, does not always cooperate. It is not that I expect to fail at getting pregnanct, or at bringing a pregnancy to term. Rather, I enter the process again with hope, but also with a distinct set of experiences that I have prepare me for whatever my jacked up body decides to do next. In the end, I hope that by knowing my Ute might misbehave, perhaps it will do as it should - grow, support and nourish. Now THAT would be unexpected.

My EDD + CD1

Today is the day I was due. Due to be a mother. My husband, due to be a father. My mom, due to be a grandmom. I was ready. I am still ready. I am still due.

Today is also CD1. And I am due to try again in 14 days. But not after one last look at the inside of my Ute, on CD11.

I am sad and hopeful all at once. I feel like I lost a whole 9 months of my life-- 9 months that was supposed to be full of joy and plans made for a bigger future. It was 9 months that were supposed to be the most "natural" of my life. Instead, I had what can only be described as the most unnatural year I have ever had. I have been poked, prodded and violated in nearly every way possible. But I was determined and pointed in my actions. I found the most amazing support from a group of women with the same condition as me, who gather online to share their experiences. It is because of this list that I was able to understand what was happening to me, but also to understand how to drive my own treatment. Without the support of these women, I would not have stumbled through this with such speed, and hopefully, success.

On my EDD and CD1, I'll start the clock again. I'll am going to allow myself to be hopeful. I am going to allow myself to believe that I will get pregnant. I am going to allow myself to imagine taking my next pregnancy to term. I am going to imagine my life in a family of three.

An upnote - a few people get it right

I am a negative person by nature. Not something I am proud of, but it is what it is. I think it is important when I spend a few days dwelling, that I then step back and consider what is not so bad.

In particular, since I have bee more recently obsessed with the loss of my fertile friends, I want to spend a moment thinking about a few people who I can count on right now, and who have been exceptionally generous-- listening to me, and supporting me over the last few months.

1.) My two old college pals S. + H (ha, ha... like the stamps). We drifted apart while I was living in the midwest, but we are finally starting to rekindle our friendships-- and for this, I am so grateful. H. lost her mother in 1998 under really tragic circumstances. Because of this, I think she has a good grip on how to talk to those who are going through something that is both painful and private. And S. is currently breaking up with her decade long partner. We are both in that place right now where we never thought we would be. A bit of a living nightmare. Selfishly, I am glad to have friends that can relate to what I am going through, even if our circumstances are different.

2.) My two great friends, S. + A, from grad school who live out in Seattle. S. had a miscarriage the same time as me (the first one). They had been TTC with a known donor (DIY) for about 4 months. She is pregnant again, but understands how hard it is - both because of her miscarriage, but also because as a same sex couple, TTC is harder. Now they are waiting on an amnio after recent blood test came back at 1 in 3 chance of downs. My heart goes out to them. They are that couple. The couple that really should have kids.

3.) My mom - god, I never thought I would say that, and I may change my mind next week, but she has been really great. She loves a good challenge, especially one with drama, lots of medical terms, and a chance to dole out sound advise to a child. She slips up know and then, but for the most part, she is rockin' the house with the support. Way to go, Peggy!

Post-op appointment was shady - BLURG!

Had my follow up appointment for my septum resection yesterday. It didn't really go as I hoped. So of course now I think that I either forecasted it, or caused it, by my recent feelings of despair.

My RE did an ultrasound. In the former location of the septum there was a big black splotch. She thought it could be a blood clot or residual septum. I am keeping my fingers crossed a clot and hoping I can pass it during my period.

I lost it. Of course.
I talked to my mother later in the day and she was shockingly supportive and understanding. At one point where I was telling her how this is straining my relationships with friends, I said something to the effect, "Well she doesn't have a magic wand shoved up her twat twice a week and get nothing out of it." My mom just took it. She also gave me some really good advise. She said that I need to give myself permission to focus on this right now, having a baby. She said that the job applications can wait. She said that the trip to Egypt can wait. It just felt good to hear someone say it.

Sinking, sinking, sunk...

I like to think I do a pretty good job of keeping my chin up. I have had a lot of ups and downs through this whole process (we all have). One of the more distinct moments was when my diagnosis was finalized. I knew that the septum and a pretty large adhesion were preventing me from carrying a pregnancy. It was a moment of clarity. I remember calling my husband on my cell, weaving a dodging a small army of pregnant woman, for the first time with a huge grin on my face. It was a septum.

Even leading up to the surgery I felt pretty good. Scared, but good. A septum could be "fixed." Rumor has it your uterine cavity is close to "normal" after a resection. We'll see about that.

Now the surgery is over, and I feel like I am just bottoming out. I thought I would be happy, but I find myself unsure all over again. What if I had a successful resection and I still can not have kids? God, I am even scared to write that down in fear that it will come true! I just have this wretched forecast in my head. You know the one-- where my thirties are consumed almost entirely by my inability to have children. I am way past down, I think I am sunk.

Even worse, I truly believe that none of my friends or family are capable of helping me. I decided, with great certainly, that I am really ok with alienating all of my fertile friends. 1.) I don't want to feel sad and angry every time I see them. 2.) I don't want to feel guilty about that sadness and anger. 3.) I don't want to be constantly reminded of how self-consumed I have become. 4.) I don't want them to have to tip-toe around me, editing themselves. 5.) Alienation is just speeding up the natural process of what children will do for our relationships regardless. They will have kids and we will not. Their lives will change drastically, and ours will be the same. 6.) I can hardly take care of myself-- I have no more energy to expend on tutoring them on how to deal with me. Besides, I don' believe there is a way to deal with me. 7.) I don't want them subjected to the same thing I am now, and unsupporting friend. They can't figure out how to deal with me and I have no clue how to deal with them.

"Normal" people are allowed to be happy for their friends, supporting them through pregnancy and child-rearing. But that has been taking from me. Along with two potential children, now my friends have been eaten by this whole mess too. And today, I don't even care. I just want to be alone.

Based on the above drivel I have decided to see if my insurance will cover therapy. I have never had therapy before, but based on some of the more disparaging imagery that seems to pop in in my cap these days, I think it might be a good idea. I have tried to go to some support meetings for recurrent loss, but unfortunately, they meet on the nights that I teach. So instead, I'm headed for the couch...

Blurg Again!

Years ago my older sister would probably have been the first person I would have gone to with my problems, especially with my miscarriages. But we have grown apart over the years, mostly because she creates a lot of unnecessary drama in her own life, and in my opinion, has failed repeatedly to protect her children emotionally. She also kind of can't stand her own kids, and it is just really sad to see. I accept that I have been unnecessary judgmental of her, but it is too hard to watch her stand in front of a moving train over and over again.

So yesterday, my sister and her daughter and I were building a little house out of popsicle sticks and A. (niece) says, "Mommy, did you tell Dit (me) about Betsy!!" My sister pauses and kinda frowns. A. asks again. I say, "Let me guess, is Betsy pregnant?" Yep, with twins. She got married about 3 months ago. My response, "Well isn't Betsy a little greedy." (Blurg, who am I?)


My sister and I have yet to speak directly about my situation. She gains her intel from my mom in favor of speaking to me directly. I have tried a few times to reach out, even if slightly, but she never takes the bait. Her response to the above conversations was - "well, that's why I hadn't said anything. You know you can have a pick of any one of my three." I say, "Unfortunately, I think they might be a little attached to you by now."

I know she is trying to help, and I am sure her joking response was more of a nervous reaction than anything, but why is it people like us are such freaks that no one ever knows what to say to us? And why is it that 90% of the time I feel pissed or saddened by their failed attempts to console me? Why is it that I feel like I spend more time talking to my friends and family about how to deal with me than actually getting the support I need?

When this all began, I took the approach that I wanted to be a silence breaker. I did not broadcast my problems, but after the second mis, it seemed stupid not to tell the people who care about me what was going on. But now I am starting to see why people keep quiet. It isn't about shame, or feelings of failure. It is because people have no clue what to do with you. Some of my friends have even pulled away from me.

I have almost zero experience dealing with grief, or supporting my friends who are dealing with it. So chances are I would be pretty bad at it too.

Got an MA?

No matter what MA (Mullerian Anomaly) you have - this is something you DO NOT want to miss out on!
http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/MullerianAnomalies/
JOIN NOW and get support you need and the best advise ever from people who have been through it already!