April 3, 2010

Subsequent Pregnancy – a brief diary

Posted in Uncategorized at 7:31 pm by Maggie's Mom

February 9
I’m terrified. I took a home pregnancy test first thing this morning (16 days past ovulation, if the ovulation predictor kit worked) and got a faint positive (the line was about half as dark as the control line). I called my doctor’s office, explained everything to his secretary, and asked her to run the info by the doctor or the nurse practitioner. I half expected them to tell me to sit tight for a few days then take another home test, but she called me back and asked if I can stop by their office tomorrow for a blood test to (a) ascertain whether I am pregnant, and if so, to (b) check to make sure my HCG levels are where they should be. Further complicating things is the fact that we’re supposed to get a ton of snow tomorrow – I hope I don’t have to wait until Thursday.

I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about all of this. I even got C to look at the test strip to tell me how many lines he saw (2!) I was afraid the 2nd line was all in my head – that I was seeing what I wanted to see. I’m scared that I’ll get my period. Or that I’ll go to the doctor and find out that I’m just late because of stress. Or that I’ll be pregnant but my HCG levels will be too low. Or that I’ll make it through one or two trimesters and then suffer another loss. Or that I’ll have a healthy baby but I’ll lose my damn mind in the process. Or that I’ll drive my OB absolutely batshit crazy (prenatal vitamins for me, Valium for him).

I’m not sure if there’s even anything to get excited about. Fear and uncertainty are definitely in abundance. I feel like I’m driving around in the dark with no headlights, and I haven’t a clue as to what’s way down the road – or even immediately in front of me.

February 10
The snow hasn’t been bad this morning, so I drove to the OB’s office and arrived at 8:30am (I didn’t call first because I was afraid they’d tell me not to come). They took a blood sample, but since they have to send it to an outside lab, the results won’t be back until at least this afternoon (maybe tomorrow if the snow gets really bad). I had the option of going to a hospital, but I still would have had to wait for the doctor to go over the results and get back to me.

My doctor wasn’t in yet, but the nurse did let me take another urine test, and it’s positive. And this time the line is darker (and not even with 1st morning urine). The nurse said it was definitely good news, and that the second line is not all in my head. The staff at my OB’s office is wonderful – they know what I’ve been through, so they were really sweet to me this morning. And they didn’t even get annoyed that I left three phone numbers for the doctor.

C’s office is near the doctor’s office, so I stopped by there afterward to tell him. He is absolutely over the moon. I still don’t believe it. I’m trying not to rain on C’s parade, but I’m trying to be cautious in my optimism. I’m so scared.  I’m going to try to get through this one day at a time.

I have a great OB (and I love his whole staff). I went to their office throughout my pregnancy with Maggie, so they know my history and they understand my anxiety. My mother-in-law wants me to switch doctors, but I have no plans to do so.

A few months ago, my OB and I discussed how a subsequent pregnancy would be handled, given my history. This time, I will have growth monitoring ultrasounds every 6 weeks. Once I reach 32 weeks (fingers crossed), I will have hour-long non-stress tests/fetal monitoring twice a week for the rest of the pregnancy. And he mentioned the possibility of early delivery – doing an amnio at 37 weeks to check the baby’s lung development, then doing an early c-section if everything looks good. At least that would save me from the 38w2d mark, which is when I lost Maggie.

I’ve been told that I probably won’t be a candidate for a VBAC (Maggie was delivered by c-section), but I couldn’t care less. As long as I have a healthy, living baby, I don’t care how s/he comes out of my body!

I’m dealing with unwanted mailings from Babies R Us again.  Even though I might now use those coupons, it really pisses me off that a gigantic corporation, with all its resources, can’t manage to handle a simple request (no, wait – FOUR requests) to be taken off a mailing list.

If I ever get pregnant again, I don’t think I’ll ever register with Babies R Us again.
I wrote that on my blog two days ago, thinking we’d been unsuccessful in conceiving again this month. Crazy ironic. But I stand by my words. I neither need nor want to register again, nor do I want to.

I am still surprised about being pregnant.  And we’ve been trying!  Maggie, although very much loved and wanted, was not planned. I was probably in shock for about a week after I found out. I guess I didn’t count on being this surprised this time around, since we were using ovulation predictor strips.  But I’m still surprised.

Written on a subsequent pregnancy message board:  …the innocence of uncomplicated pregnancy would be so nice
That’s why I’m glad I stayed with the OB I had when I was pregnant with Maggie. He and his staff (both medical and administrative) are totally aware of my history – they were so incredibly kind and patient with me this morning. Dr. M wasn’t in the office this morning, but he called me this afternoon. I told him that I would do my best not to be anxious and high-maintenance, but he assured me that given what happened before, the fear and uncertainty this time are normal and understandable.

February 11
Less than 24 hours since getting the BFP, I’m nauseous (only 4.5 weeks). I’m convinced it’s psychosomatic.

February 13
Today I’m going back and forth between anxiety and depression. I’m five weeks in, and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to handle the next 35 weeks. Then I think to myself that I might not even make it that far. I feel like, no matter how far I get, I’ll be holding my breath, because we were totally blindsided when we lost Maggie at 38 weeks.

I want to feel some joy over this pregnancy, but I’m not feeling it. It still doesn’t even seem real. When I was pregnant with Maggie, my breasts were sore through the whole first trimester, and I was queasy and exhausted all the time. Right now, I’m not really having any symptoms, and it makes me fear that something bad has happened. I’m trying not to be negative around C, but I’ve feeling pretty overwhelmed right now.

Does it get ANY easier? Because I really don’t know how I’m going to do this.

Dear Toys R Us/Babies R Us,
WTF!?!?!? This morning I get an e-mail in my inbox with the subject line “Welcome to Toys R Us!” Then in the e-mail, it says, “Welcome to R Family!” Are you f***ing kidding me? How does this shit keep happening?

February 15
As far as I know, everything’s going OK in my uterus. All the stuff swirling around in my head, however, is another matter entirely.

I’m just so scared. I know I need to try to relax, but that’s a lot more easily said than done. I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that there are no guarantees – that really upsets me, because I feel like we should have earned a “pass,” but we still have to get through so much more before holding a healthy baby. I’ve been dealing with a lot of family stress and work stress. I really want to tell everyone to STFU, because suddenly there’s something that’s a million times more important to me than anything else. And I’m terrified of losing another baby.

I’m not sure how to relax.  The idea of prayer (at least in any sense that I’m familiar with) just stresses me out more, because of all my conflicting feelings about God/The Universe/Whatever. Besides, I prayed last time, and look what happened. Obviously, I can’t have a stiff drink (or a few), and I worry that even my old standby – a long hot bath – is not good for the baby.

I’m also conflicted on when to tell people (my immediate family, and my boss, since I’ll be going to the doctor a lot more than with a “normal” pregnancy). Carrying this secret around is adding to my stress, but I’m having a hard time figuring when/how I should tell. I know a lot of people wait until the end of the first trimester, when most women are “out of the woods.” That milestone, however, no longer has any meaning for me. I wish I could just fast-forward to my due date, or at least sleep through the rest of the pregnancy. Oh yeah – this morning at 3am, I woke up in a panic.

My doctor told me I could call his office if I have any questions or concerns, but what can he do at this point? Just listen to me crying and flipping out and saying, “I think my baby is dead” 50 times a day?

My stomach is so tied up in knots right now – I don’t know what to do.

I talked a little bit with C about my fears, and that helped a little bit. I told him how incredibly fearful I am – how I’m afraid to let myself feel hope or joy, and how I’m scared that if something does go wrong, C might blame me for it because of my negativity. He assured me that’s not the case, but that he does want me to feel some joy and hope over this pregnancy. He suggested that I go into the baby’s room (Maggie’s room, which we never dismantled after losing her – we’ve just kept the door closed most of the time) and visualize the new baby in the crib. I said that it would be hard to do that because we have a few mementoes of Maggie in the crib – a couple of stuffed toys, a blanket that the hospital gave us, and the cards and letters that we received after we lost her. So we’ve decided to relocate those items – they will still have a place of honor, but I feel like I need to make some room (both physically and in my heart) for Maggie’s little brother or sister.

I went in there, took the things out of the crib, and changed the crib sheet (I’m not sure why – just felt like it). One of our cats, who loves to “help” make beds, immediately jumped into the crib and settled himself on the mattress! I did have to laugh a little bit. We usually keep the door closed, so when the cats hear the door open, they come running. I’m sure they’re attracted by the “forbidden” aspect of the room, but I like to think that they recognize that it’s a special place.

Maggie’s ashes are in a little box on the dresser. Eventually, a changing pad will be there, and we’ll find another special place to keep her ashes. I guess I’m going to try to take one step at a time, and today was the crib.

I also sent my immediate family members an e-mail. That wasn’t necessarily the way I’d envisioned telling them, but keeping the secret was stressing me out. Anyway, it’s done now. Maybe if nothing else, they’ll start attributing my batshit craziness to hormones.

February 21
I’m feeling scared and anxious again today. I’m at 6w1d, and I’m not really feeling any of the same symptoms I felt with my last pregnancy. I suppose I should be grateful not to be dealing with sore breasts and nausea, but it would be reassuring if I felt pregnant. I called the OB on call, and while he was sympathetic, he said there’s really nothing that can be done on a Sunday unless I went to the ER. He said I could go to the office tomorrow for an early ultrasound, but by then I’ll be at work and I’ll be distracted. I did do another HPT (had one more at home). The pregnancy line was a BFP, but the control line was very faint, so I don’t know what the hell that’s about.  Of course the HPT directions said, “If you have any questions, please call our hotline from 9-5pm Eastern Time, Mondays – Fridays.” Aaargh. So apparently I’m not allowed to flip out on weekends.

I think it’s harder for me on the weekends, when I don’t have all the weekday distractions. I’m trying not to freak out C, but things don’t feel right.

C and I went to the mall today.  I’ve decided that I still hate the mall — it’s still Baby Central, and that’s still hard for me. I guess it will be hard for me until this little one is safely in my arms. But we did buy a journal to write to this new baby — maybe that’ll help us work through some of this. One thing — I was absolutely wiped out (like I was in the first trimester with Maggie). Hopefully, that’s another good sign.

Over the past few months, I’ve dealt with the 2-week wait. Now it’s the 34-week wait (or the 31-week wait, since my OB and I have discussed a delivery at 37 weeks). I wish I could hibernate until October — then have them wake me up and hand me a healthy newborn.

I guess I’ll call my OB tomorrow and see what he thinks of a 6-week ultrasound. I’m just afraid that it might be too early to see a heartbeat and then I’ll really freak out. I would imagine that’s why he scheduled me for one at 7.5 weeks. Fortunately, he was my doctor through my pregnancy with Maggie, so he and his colleagues know what I’ve been through. So far they’ve been very understanding of my skittishness. C did agree with me that the OB would probably discourage the use of a home Doppler — because I’d probably walk around with the thing duct-taped to my belly 24/7.

I just feel like I’m not going to be able to breathe easily until a living child is in my arms. When I was at Barnes & Noble today, I did take a look at the pregnancy books. None of them had any relevance for me. The only book I’ve looked at is “Pregnancy After a Loss” by Carol Cirulli Lanham. It’s helpful, but it didn’t really help me too much today. I really need for someone to write a book called “Pregnancy After Loss: How Not to Go Absolutely Batshit Crazy.”

I wish I could have C’s positive outlook. I’ve dealt with depression for all of my adult life, and I tend to be a glass-half-empty kind of person. Instead of being thankful that I don’t have sore boobs and my head in the toilet, I’m kvetching about my lack of symptoms.

I’m glad we got a journal for the new baby. I’m hoping that writing in it will help me feel better, and bond a little more with this new little one.

February 28
Having another rough weekend here. So many different feelings. Feeling guilty because I’m not feeling excited about this pregnancy. Everyone around me who knows is excited, but I’m not feeling it. No excitement or joy — just anxiety and dread. I don’t know — it’s like I don’t want to let myself get attached even to the idea of having another baby, maybe because I feel like the minute I start to feel some anticipation and happiness, this baby will get taken away too. C and I bought a baby journal last weekend, but I haven’t been able to write in it yet. If this baby makes it, I don’t want him/her to read it years from now and see all the negativity.

I don’t know if things will change when we get the ultrasound (Wednesday) or when I’m able to feel the baby move (I’m only 7 weeks right now). I don’t know if things will get easier or harder. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next seven months.

I just spoke to my doctor, and now I feel worse. The answering service lady said that Dr. M (my doctor) was on call, so I asked that he call me back. I told him that I’m trying not to flip out, but am having a really hard time, especially as I get closer to Wednesday’s ultrasound. He responded by telling me that this is a psychiatric problem, not an obstetrical one, and that I need to talk to my psychiatrist about getting my antidepressant dose adjusted and treating the anxiety. He also refused to consider moving the ultrasound up to tomorrow or Tuesday. He said maybe I need to consider going to a high-risk OB practice (am I being fired as a patient???) I know it’s high-maintenance for a 7-weeks pregnant woman to be phoning the doctor on call on a Sunday afternoon, but he was so rushed and impatient. I could see that from a doctor that I’ve never met, but I didn’t expect it from the doctor who delivered my stillborn daughter. I feel like a hot potato being thrown from one specialist to another. I told him I’m sorry to have bothered him — he couldn’t seem to get off the phone soon enough.

I just want to go crawl back into bed and sleep through the next seven months.

I didn’t even think I’d need to consider changing doctors until today. Like I’ve said before, Dr. M has been along for the whole ride. A few months ago, we had talked about how a subsequent pregnancy would be handled. He was never impatient or dismissive — until today.

I am already so thoroughly overwhelmed — the thought of having to find another OB makes things worse. And part of me feels like I’m going to lose this one too, so what’s the point of even having an OB in the first place?

This is the first time Dr. M has acted like this with me. So I’m inclined to try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Still, it HURTS to be treated like a neurotic head case by someone who knows exactly WHY I’m so anxious.

Even though Dr. M is an OBGyn, I think he has a lot more experience handling pregnancies after losses than my psychiatrist does. After Maggie was stillborn, my mother-in-law wanted me to switch doctors, but I didn’t consider it.

I fucking hate the weekends. The OBs don’t want to talk to you unless you’re giving birth, and the psychiatrists don’t want to talk to you unless you’re suicidal. FUCK THIS SHIT.

I guess I could have handled a “sit tight until Monday and talk to your regular OB then.” But this WAS my regular OB. And he was telling me to wait until my scheduled appointment on Wednesday. Three days from now.

Yes, I realize that thinking “OMG my baby is dead” a million times a day is irrational. But after my last baby did actually die in my uterus, isn’t such thinking understandable? That’s the thing — I don’t think ANYONE who hasn’t been through this understands it.

I just went on my new insurance company’s website and found that the grief counselor C and I saw for a few months is on their provider list. She specializes in perinatal bereavement, and I’m sure she’s dealt with subsequent pregnancies. She also used to be a labor & delivery nurse, so she understands that component too. And her office is a whole lot closer than my regular therapist’s (about 30 miles away). So I’m going to give her a call tomorrow.

C is home, so I’m going to go sit with him and try not to be a crazy woman. I’m trying not to be negative around him, but it’s hard to share positive feelings when I’m not really having any right now.

March 1
I was able to get in to see Jan (the grief counselor who specializes in perinatal bereavement) for an hour today. I told her about the phone conversation with my OB yesterday. She knows him, but she didn’t make any excuses for his behavior. I told her that I’m inclined to think he was just having a bad day, but that it still hurt. She urged me to talk with him Wednesday (after my ultrasound) to clear the air. If he responds well, then we can move on and put yesterday’s conversation behind us. But if he’s a jerk about it, then I guess I’ll need to find another doctor. Fortunately, Jan knows a lot of OBs.

The rest of my meeting with Jan went really well. It has been helpful to have all these feelings validated. As far as Dr. M saying that my antidepressant dose needs to be adjusted, Jan agrees with me that this is not a serotonin issue — it’s an I’m-pregnant-again-and-scared-to-death issue. She can prescribe meds, so it’s good to have that base covered.

March 3
I had my ultrasound today. I was really nervous about going into the ultrasound room (because the last time I was in there was when I learned that Maggie no longer had a heartbeat). But Dr. M was patient and understanding (I feel like the bad conversation we had Sunday was a one-off, and that going forward, we’ll be OK). At first, he didn’t see a heartbeat, but then he tried a vaginal ultrasound and that picked up a heartbeat. He thinks I might be closer to 6.5 weeks along than 7.5 weeks, but he’ll do another ultrasound in 2 weeks to get a better idea.

Overall, the appointment was positive. We still have an incredibly long way to go, but so far so good. I have been so anxious in the days leading up to today.

March 16
We went in for the ultrasound today (9w3d), and the heartbeat is gone. I’m scheduled for a D&C on Thursday.

I can’t decide whether God doesn’t exist or he’s just a sadist.
The doctor thinks it might have been Turner’s Syndrome, because he found what he’s pretty sure is a cystic hygroma on the ultrasound. Apparently, that’s often indicative of a genetic problem. Since C and I both had genetic testing done on our blood after we lost Maggie, this would have been a new thing, possibly related to age (I’m 38 and C is 42). It just seems like we got hit with a different kind of bad luck this time.

The doctor recommended a D&C. He thinks that’ll be better for me from a recovery standpoint, and it’ll enable him to order genetic testing on the “tissue” (I know this baby wasn’t even a fetus yet, but it still kind of sucks for him/her to suddenly be demoted to “tissue”).

He said I might have some bleeding and/or cramping before the D&C on Thursday morning. So far no bleeding or spotting, but I feel like I’m having some cramping — probably psychosomatic.

I will definitely be taking an Ambien tonight.

I can’t stand this. I’m tired of having our hearts broken. I’m starting to wonder if C and I will ever be parents. I don’t know if I can do this again.

Dear Boss,
Thank you for your kindness and understanding. I appreciate your sending my co-workers an e-mail explaining that I’ll be working from home for the next few days due to health reasons, and instructing them to direct their e-mails and phone calls to you instead of me this week. I don’t know when I’ll be back at 100%, but this definitely takes a little of the pressure off.

Dear Co-Workers,
Please read (and heed) the boss’ e-mail and stop sending me e-mails inquiring about the status of your damn expense checks. Right now I really don’t care whether the people at Corporate cut your checks this week or even this year.

Dear Sister-in-Law,
I don’t think I’m up to going to your house for Easter dinner this year. I just can’t see myself celebrating the resurrection of the son of the “Almighty.” If he’s so “almighty,” why are both of my children dead?

Dear Universe,
You suck. You really really suck.

I woke up this morning with an overwhelming sense of sadness. I really wish I could just sleep through this loss, then any subsequent pregnancy — I just want to wake up and have someone hand me my healthy baby.

I had some cramping last night, but no bleeding yet. I really don’t want to go through this at home, so I’m hoping nothing starts to happen before 10:30 tomorrow morning (when the D&C is scheduled). C took the day off to stay home and keep an eye on me.  I’ve been sitting at the computer halfheartedly “telecommuting” and trying to find something on TV that doesn’t have anything to do with pregnancy or babies. I really don’t need to hear about Hef’s former girlfriend Kendra and her new baby (channel 4), or postpartum fitness routines (channel 3).

March 17
Today has been pretty awful, but I fear that tomorrow will be worse. While I want to get the D&C over with, I’m also scared. I don’t know what to expect. The oh-so-chipper nurse who called from the hospital wasn’t helpful. “How are you doing?” Well tomorrow I’m having my uterus scraped out to remove the second baby that I’ve lost in less than a year, so why don’t you read my effing chart and tell me how you think I’m doing?

Then my mom called to ask me if “they” are sure that the heartbeat is gone? Because a doctor once told So-and-So the same thing and ordered a D&C, but So-and-So refused, and then they ended up finding a heartbeat, and now little Billy is a healthy 8-year-old. Really, Mom — I love you, but that is SO not helping right now. My OB, C, and I were all looking at the ultrasound monitor searching for a heartbeat, and there wasn’t one. Giving me false hope just makes things worse.

I really hate this. I’m heartsick that both of my babies’ hearts have stopped beating while they were in my body. I feel like a tremendous failure.

March 18
The day was definitely harder emotionally than physically. C took another day off work, and we didn’t have to be at the hospital until 10:45, so we tried to sleep in. Didn’t happen, of course. It was a very somber, quiet morning.

On the way to the hospital, C ran a stop sign (which neither of us noticed) in front of the damn police station. A cop on foot waved us over and scolded us. C just kind of nodded and muttered an apology, and the cop let us off with a warning.

The wait at the hospital was frustrating. Getting checked in sucked (the minute the clerk put that hospital bracelet on me, I thought I was going to jump out of my skin). While I was waiting to get bloodwork done, a very pregnant woman came into Admitting — she was in labor and was waiting to be taken to Labor & Delivery (oh please please please don’t come sit near me). They finally took us up to outpatient surgery to wait some more. They had me change into a hospital gown. C helped me with the ties on the back of the gown — as he did so, he gave me a tender kiss on my back (right between the shoulder blades). That really got the tears going.

All of the hospital staff were extremely kind to C and me. I talked with my OB, several nurses, and the anesthesiologist, who was especially kind. When I told him how anesthesia had made me throw up before (the spinal last year, and general anesthesia that I had when I was 9), he prescribed a scopolamine patch for behind my ear — I’m supposed to remove it tomorrow, and I haven’t had any nausea all day. Anesthesiologists are awesome.

I was escorted into the OR. It amazes me that operating rooms are so damn bright — nothing like on “Grey’s Anatomy.” When I saw the table (with stirrups that looked more like full leg splints), I started to get really scared and upset. As I lay down, I looked at the anesthesiologist and said, “I hate this. I want to be unconscious already.” That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the recovery room.

I don’t know how long I spent in recovery, but I think it was a while. The nurse gave C and me all the standard post-op instructions, including the “nothing in the vagina for 2 weeks” admonishment. To which C replied, “Even me?” That was my one laugh for the day — I love him so much.

We got home to find some beautiful flowers sent by my workplace. Then C went to pick up my prescriptions and some gigantic pads (poor guy — he got the right ones, though). I’ve been resting, and we’re going to take it easy tonight. So far physically it’s been like a regular period with bad cramps. Discomfort, but not terrible pain. Of course I’m sure the Percocet helps — yay for narcotics.

I am grateful that, although I had to have a D&C, it went fairly well, physically.
I am grateful for the anesthesiologist who enabled me to sleep through the procedure.
I am grateful for the friends and family who have supported C and me during this horrible week.

Dear Sweet Little Grape,
I’m so sorry your dad and I won’t be able to meet you. Please know that you were wanted so much.

Dear C,
I so wanted to make you a father to a living child. Even though lately I’ve felt like the unluckiest person in the world, the TLC that you’ve given me (especially this week) reminds me that I’m so lucky to have you. I love you so much.

March 19
Physically, I’m feeling fine. But emotionally, not so much… I still can’t believe we’re dealing with another loss. We’re 0 for 2 now, I guess. It’s hard to imagine any future pregnancy ending happily.

I’m dreading going back to work on Monday, because I’m worried I won’t be able to keep myself together. And I don’t want people coming at me with all their bullshit platitudes.

I think that work itself will provide a welcome distraction. I’m just dreading seeing some of my co-workers because I’m afraid some people might say stupid things. There’s one woman there who really means well, but said something that really got to me. When I was going to the first ultrasound (with this pregnancy), this woman saw that I was nervous, and she said, “Don’t worry… everything will be OK… If it’s meant to be, then everything will be fine.” I didn’t find that helpful a few weeks ago, and I certainly wouldn’t find those words comforting now. But if people are going to say stupid things, they’re going to say them whether I go back this Monday or next Monday, so I may as well just get it over with.

I realized something when I woke up this morning. Since Tuesday’s ultrasound, I’ve been sleeping OK. Sometimes I use Ambien or Benadryl to help me get to sleep.  But then every morning I wake up, remember that the baby is gone, and realize that this is reality (vs. just a bad dream). And I feel my heart breaking all over again.

March 22
Late at night is really hard, because C has already gone to sleep, so I’m awake and (kinda sorta) alone with my thoughts. Which sucks.

I went back to work today. It sucked, but I suppose it could have sucked worse. One of my co-workers (from another department) walked into my office and asked me how I was feeling. I realized that she didn’t know about the miscarriage. So after I told her, I went and talked to another co-worker who offered to break the news to others (and to add that I don’t feel like talking about it). So she went and told the others, and nobody approached me. There were some teary moments, but I managed to hold it together and eke out a respectably productive day.

It was weird — I was in a building with hundreds of people, but I felt so incredibly alone.

March 25
I’m at home for the rest of the week. I’d gone back to work Monday and Tuesday, and it was really difficult. Sometimes I’d just sit there and stare at the computer screen or at all the papers on my desk — I wasn’t terribly productive. The HR person even called me into her office Tuesday and said that several people expressed concern that I’d gone back to work too soon. Then yesterday, I got up, showered, and then just sat there. The minutes just kept ticking by. I kept thinking, if I’m going to get to work on time, I need to get moving — get dressed, dry my hair, etc. But I just sat there. I finally e-mailed my boss and said, ”I’m having some complications and need to go back to the dr. I don’t think I can make it in today — I’m sorry.” I got an e-mail back from him saying, ”I do understand and feel it is best if you take the rest of the week. Let’s talk but plan on coming in Monday. I really hope all is ok.” I have mixed feelings about this — although I’m grateful for my boss’ understanding, I’m scared about jeopardizing my job. But maybe I do need to take the extra days off. Maybe if I do give myself until Monday, I can return to work and actually be able to give my job 100% again. Earlier this week, I got some work done, but there were some things I just didn’t give a damn about. And I was still on such an emotional roller-coaster — trying to keep myself from bursting into tears was sucking up so much of my energy.

Physically, the recovery has been bumpy. A little TMI, but my gastrointestinal system has not been right since the D&C last Thursday. I’ve since found out that it’s probably a combination of the narcotics that I got during and after the surgery, plus the fact that I’ve hardly eaten anything in the past week. Also, I’ve passed a couple of big scary blood clots since the D&C — it seems like the bleeding was light at first, then got worse for a couple of days. When I called my doctor about that and the abdominal pain (which I feel was more gastrointestinal than uterine), he was kind of a jerk. He didn’t consider the clots (about the size of a half-dollar) significant, and his tone was somewhat dismissive. I said, “Well you might not consider them significant, but they’re certainly the biggest clots I’ve ever seen come out of my body, and they scared me.” When I also said I had upper abdominal pain (above my navel), he said, “Well, your uterus is nowhere near there.” No shit! I know where my damn uterus is. He ended up deciding that I probably have an infection (despite having no fever), so he called in a prescription for a week’s worth of antibiotics and told me to take Tylenol for the pain. I also have my 2-week post-D&C follow-up with him next Thursday. I’m also a little bothered by the fact that, although the hospital called me the day after my D&C to check on me, nobody from my doctor’s office ever called. After Thursday’s procedure, my doctor talked with my husband, but left the hospital before I woke up from the general anesthesia — I understand him not waiting around for me to wake up, but a follow-up phone call would have taken five minutes. Any contact I’ve had with him or his office since the D&C has been initiated by me. I used to think that my OB hung the moon, but I think it’s time for me to look for another doctor.

Short version:
Taking the rest of the week off work — probably better for me and my employer.
My doctor is being an a-hole.
Still depressed and can’t believe we’re having to go through another loss, but trying to be gentle with myself.
My husband is still the most wonderful man in the world.

March 26
Physically, the pain hasn’t been bad today. My OB told me to take Tylenol instead of Motrin because he figured the ibuprofen might be messing with my stomach.

It has just really been another hard day. I’m just so tired of this rollercoaster — a lot more lows than highs, and no end in sight.

I’m feeling antsy and anxious about work. I’ve exchanged a couple of e-mails with my boss, and it looks like everything is going just fine (without me). I know he’s probably trying to put my mind at ease about taking time off, but it makes me feel a little insecure about my job. I know nobody’s indispensable. If I got hit by a truck, the work would still go on. Interestingly enough, I feel like I did get hit by a truck last week.

March 27
The physical pain is pretty much gone now. Of course the emotional pain is a different story. The following is copied/pasted from an e-mail that I sent to a friend last night — it pretty much sums up my feelings:

I feel like when I was about to have Maggie, Chris and I had climbed a mountain and were steps away from the summit. Then we got kicked in the teeth and fell all the way to the bottom. After so many months, we finally picked ourselves up, dusted ourselves off, and started climbing again, only to get kicked back down a lot earlier this time. And now I’m face down in the dirt. It’s really hard to see a living baby in the future (near or distant), because all I can see right now is dirt.

I’m going back to work Monday. I’ve done a little bit of work from home today. Now that I’m feeling better physically, I feel like I need to get out of the house — sitting home alone being depressed is not good. I think work will provide a distraction. I need to feel useful.  I hope next week’s return to work goes better than this week’s false start. I need to feel successful at something. Even with doctors telling me that these losses aren’t my fault, after having two babies’ hearts stop beating inside my own body, I feel like a tremendous failure.

Dear Dr. M,

You’ve been my OB/Gyn since the beginning of my first pregnancy — you’ve been the only obstetrician I’ve ever had at all. I used to think you were the best OB/Gyn in the world. When C and lost Maggie, we knew you were upset too. I remember being in that ultrasound room and seeing the look on your face as you searched for a heartbeat. I remember how you practically followed C and me from your office to the hospital, how you did the C-section late that night, and how you tried to get some answers for why our baby was stillborn. I thought about how great it would be in the future, when you delivered our living child(ren).

But things have soured lately. When I was (understandably) anxious about my second pregnancy, you were very impatient with me — I felt like you dismissed me as a head case. When we saw that at nine weeks, the heartbeat was gone, I was devastated. There we were, in that same ultrasound room, going through another loss. C and I talked with you and with your new secretary, who scheduled my D&C. Neither of you offered even a perfunctory ”I’m sorry for your loss.” Maybe the lawyers warn you that saying that would be like admitting fault. But I don’t think that’s it, because your partner Dr. K actually did say she was sorry for our loss. Maybe you see so many first-trimester miscarriages that you’re just hardened to the reality, and you just don’t think about the impact of loss (especially consecutive losses) on an individual patient.

We went to the hospital for the D&C — the same hospital where you removed my first child (dead) from my body last summer. When you arrived, you asked how I was doing and seemed surprised that I was crying. I was both depressed and terrified. I know you perform this procedure often, but it was my first (and hopefully last) D&C. You didn’t discuss the procedure — all you said was ”I’m going to take care of this for you” (which is exactly what I heard you say to the patient in the next cubicle, who was also there for a D&C). By the time I woke up, you had left the hospital. I can understand your not waiting around for general anesthesia to wear off, but I was a little surprised that nobody from your office ever called to follow up and check on my recovery (any subsequent contact with your office has been initiated by me). The following Monday, I spoke with two of your partners about abdominal pain and increased bleeding (including a large clot that I passed). When you returned my call on Tuesday, your tone was again impatient and dismissive. You finally decided that I had an infection (diagnosing it over the phone) and called in a prescription for antibiotics.

I just had a second baby die inside my body. Then I had a surgical procedure to scrape the “tissue” out of my uterus. I have felt like absolute crap, both physically and emotionally, yet you have treated me like some sort of high-maintenance nuisance. I used to think you were the best doctor in the world, and I’d hoped to see you deliver my living child(ren). But after the way that you’ve treated me through this latest pregnancy and loss, I don’t know if I want to go through another pregnancy with you.

ETA: People who don’t want to deal with emotional and hormonal women probably shouldn’t choose gynecology as a specialty.

March 28
Dear Sister,
I’m sorry I can’t talk with you right now. I just can’t stand hearing your baby girl in the background. I’m sorry I’ve had to block you on Facebook. I can’t fault you for posting photos of your baby, but seeing as how I’m dealing with my second loss, I just can’t look at her (or any other baby) right now. I’m shipping the family christening gown (that Mom shipped me when I was pregnant with Maggie) to you. I have no use for it. I don’t believe in God anymore anyway.

Dear Mom,
Please don’t tell me about how sleep-deprived my sister and BIL are from being up late with their new baby. At least they’re sleep-deprived for a good reason. I lie awake at night wondering why my babies are gone and how I will get through the next day. If I had a living baby in my arms, I wouldn’t care if I never slept again.

Dear Well-Meaning People,
I know you are trying to make me feel better, but please stop talking about my next pregnancy and how it’ll end happily. I am SO not ready to deal with another pregnancy (and possible loss), and I probably won’t be for a long time. Jeez, C and I can’t even have sex yet! And we haven’t even found out why we lost this baby. Also, I am 38 years old. From a reproduction standpoint, that is not young. So please stop talking about how we can have more babies. You don’t know that, and it’s not helping.

Dear C,
So we’re going to your sister’s tomorrow for an early Easter dinner. I love your family, and I know you want to see them. I will try to keep it together, and I will bite my tongue if people say things that I find upsetting. But I might have to step outside and get some air. Also, you’re driving, because I will definitely be drinking.

March 29
C and I went to his sister’s house for an early Easter dinner yesterday. All the in-laws were there. We survived the afternoon. Here’s a sampling of the conversation:

SIL: Don’t worry — you will get pregnant again.
ME: It’s not getting pregnant that seems to be the problem — it’s the, um, follow-through.
SIL: Well the Big Guy Upstairs can help with that!

BIL: You’ll be blessed. You’ll be parents some day.
ME: Thank you.
BIL: If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.

I wanted to ask him if our two losses were signs that it’s not “meant to be…”

April 1
Had my follow up doctor appointment today — today makes two weeks since the D&C. C couldn’t get off work to go with me — I was disappointed, because I needed the support.

Physically, the appointment went OK, although my blood pressure was a little high. Also, the antibiotics the doctor put me on last week have given me a damn yeast infection. Effing great.

Non-physically, not so great. Dr. M wasn’t as rushed and impatient as he was on the phone last week. But I mentioned the antibiotics (the ones he called in to the pharmacy after he diagnosed an infection — over the phone). He said, “Oh yeah — for the fever.” I reminded him that I hadn’t been running a fever. He didn’t look up from his notes. Then a couple of sentences later, he alluded to the fever that I’d had last week. So I didn’t feel like he was listening to me at ALL.

He also said that the genetic testing results probably won’t be in for another couple of weeks. And then he asked if C and I were planning to try to have another baby. He said that between 2 consecutive genetic losses (if this one is indeed genetic) and my age (I’ll be 39 in September), the odds don’t look very good. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but he was pretty pessimistic. WTF — the test results aren’t even in. I was feeling pretty down when I left, and C is pretty upset with Dr. M for jumping to conclusions before the tests come back. None of the other medical-type people we’ve talked with have been so pessimistic.

I’m going to call the high-risk practice tomorrow and see if maybe I can get on the appointment calendar. Maybe then I can get in for a consultation after the test results come back. Until then, I’m not sure what to think.

April 2
I tried to call the high risk practice today, but they were closed for Good Friday. I’m going to call them Monday. Until then, I’m going to try not to stress out about it.

Last night, I talked with Jan, the grief counselor I’ve been working with. She’s an APRN (Advanced Practice Registered Nurse) with decades of experience in OB/Gyn nursing. I told her about Dr. M’s pessimism, and she said I should get a second (and perhaps even a third) opinion whenever hearing something really big from any doctor. I hadn’t thought about it that way. I guess it didn’t occur to me to question a prognosis the way I would question a recommended treatment. If a doctor recommended major surgery, I would certainly get a second opinion — why shouldn’t I get a second opinion if a doctor suggests that maybe we should stop TTC?

C is still pretty upset about what Dr. M said. But unfortunately he heard everything secondhand through me. That’s another reason I really wanted C to be there at the appointment with me yesterday — not just to provide support, but to be able to really listen to and understand what was being said. Sometimes, especially when I’m upset, my mind gets really muddled. :-\

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