Definitive
January 30, 2008My gawd, that last post was melodramatic. More maudlin than I actually feel, I assure you.
When I showed up for my beta yesterday, the fabulous Dr. Nice (I could really use a better name for him, but he is really nice) was around in between surgeries after all, and brought me in for an ultrasound. My uterus is definitively empty, no hint or whisper of a sac, so he had me stop the Crinone* (which he kept calling crinoline and I wanted to shout, “It’s not a petticoat! Jeez!” Anyway.) and is going to monitor my beta back down to zero to be sure it is not ectopic. He didn’t see any signs of an ectopic on the monitor, but I feel it’s always nice to have something new to worry about.
I am okay. Really, I am. I was 99.9% sure I was having a miscarriage, but that bitch Hope was still whispering things in my ear like disappearing twin or subchorionic hematoma, or your sister bled for four months and still had your nephew and it is nice to shut her the hell up.
This doesn’t feel even remotely like the last miscarriage, and here’s why:
Last time: We’d been trying for six or seven months and had a diagnosis of male factor infertility hanging over our heads. This time: No known infertility, pregnant on the first month, and practically accidentally at that.
Last time: In addition to that miscarriage, had a diagnosis of probable recurrent miscarriage hanging over our heads. This time: My ANA tests actually came back normal recently and I’ve called the single mutated MTHFR gene for the bullshit I believe it is, so it’s just the shortish luteal phase, and that is easily solved with progesterone supplementation.
Last time: I saw a heartbeat at seven weeks, was positively stunned to find it dead at nine weeks, and I had to have a D&C. This time: The blood started at five weeks, and that was staved off for a while by the progesterone, so things never really got going in there, I wasn’t surprised, and I don’t have to have surgery.
Last time: It didn’t feel like just an “ordinary” miscarriage, the kind 25% of women have, but rather the first of many more to come. If I could even get pregnant again. I thought I might never be a parent. This time: I already have Gatito, so I am a parent, and I have no real reason to believe that the next time (or the one after that) won’t work out.
The other thing is that the timing, with my brand new job, was pretty much giving me a heart attack. I was dreading the possibility of telling my boss, who would be under no obligation to hold my job. Plus, this company has awesome maternity benefits, and it would be a shame not to be eligible for them.
I know that feelings after a miscarriage can be a bit of a roller coaster. You can feel fine one day and depressed the next. And I am surrounded by the most fertile office mates in the history of the world (ten births out of ~40 people in the last month), which is irritating. And I’m annoyed that I’m now 1 for 3 on this whole pregnancy thing. But mostly I am totally fine. I know that in all likelihood I will have a successful pregnancy in the future and even if I don’t, life is pretty awesome just as it is, with my one, fabulous kid.
I want to thank you all again for your support over the past week. It means more to me than I can say.
I’m glad that you’re okay today…but will be hear for you, of course, if that rollercoaster heads back down.
I’m glad that this isn’t such a definitively negative experience like the first one was but I’m sorry it happened nonetheless.
You sound like you’re doing great, all things considered. Still sorry it had to happen, but (and this sounds terrible, but I know its what you meant by this post) if it was going to have to happen, I’m so glad it happened this way.
Will you still go forward with the IUI or are you thinking it won’t ever be necessary?
Can I tell you again how much I love Vitex/chasteberry for LPD?
I’m glad your head is prevailing and your heart isn’t so hurt, and I hope you have good news soon.
An RE at Dr. Expert’s office said “Valentime’s Day” several times, and Mimi’s gastroenterologist kept talking about Seminola wheat rather than semolina.
Seriously. I didn’t go back to either one. I find doctors who can’t sound out words very alarming.
Again, I’m sorry your month ended this way. Hope for better things next month, or whenever you decide you’re ready.
I’m glad you’re doing so well, but I’m still so sorry.
That is too bad. But good for you for keeping your head up.
I am glad that you are fine with everything. Sure, you may have some ups and downs, but you sound like you are a realist and I agree that the the facts remain that you will likely go on to have another successful pregnancy.
That being said, I am sorry that you had to go through this again, and that you couldn’t take a day or 2 off to recharge.
I’m glad you have all those this time / last times to brighten things, but still: damn. I’m sorry. Take care.
It is amazing that you’re feeling so strong. It all makes sense, what you wrote, but losing a very much wanted pregnancy can be devastating, as you already know too well. I’m so glad you are ok. Still, be gentle with yourself.
Glad to hear that you’re okay (right now) and hoping that the ups and downs of this go easy on you. I’m still so very sorry that this has happened.
A friend of mine has had a miscarriages each prior to sucessful pregnancies–hopefully that will be your story.
Sarah
I’m glad you are doing well! I think everything you said makes perfect sense. xoxo.
You sound great. I am thinking about you . .
Again, hugs.
Dang. I’m sorry.