Recovery: day 16

I had my post-op checkup yesterday. When I arrived at my clinic, the receptionist said "Hey Tutti." I don't even need to tell them my name anymore. And in truth, I haven't for a while. It's cool when you are a regular at a restaurant and the waiter sets your favorite drink down in front of you without even having to order. Not so cool when everyone at your fertility clinic knows you by first name. Although, who am I kidding, they are familiar with more than just my first name (hello-everyone-in-the-greater-metropolitan-area-has-seen-my-pink-parts).

The other significant thing that happened within the first 30 seconds of walking into my clinic yesterday was perhaps the true explanation behind everyone knowing my name. I watched as the receptionist stood up to grab something. I actually saw her arm dip from the weight of it. If I had to guess, it probably exceeded the 10 pound mark. I stopped, it registered, and then I asked, "Is that my chart." It was. I am now one of those  patients that you can give pitying looks to solely based on the girth of her medical records.

The irony of yesterday being my first due date and seeing my all too empty ute on the u/s monitor was not lost on me. But I held it together and didn't cry. For about 5 minutes. Then I let out big ugly sobs when Dr. D asked me how things were going. At least I wasn't already tear streaked before she walked into the room this time. Baby steps.

Apparently I'm recovering nicely from the D&C. I can't say that I didn't have niggling fears about having these two surgeries so close together. Scarring is always a potential issue, as are things like punctured organs, and left over 'material'. But my RE has mad skillz and things are back in order again. Or are they?  <--see what I did there? I know this post is long and that is a hook to get you to read to the end. #trickygirl.

While Dr. D scrutinized my barren womb, she talked me through what she saw. "Nice thick lining Tutti," she said "and it looks like you are..." we finished the sentence in unison, "ovulating". I already knew that I was. I'm a good infertile and analyze my TP all day, every day. And the night before there were tell-tale signs. If nothing else, I've gotten very in tune with my body over the last two years.

Want to hear the kicker? I've got two nice follicles growing: 16mm and 17mm. One on each side. Let me remind you in case you've forgotten, I'm not on any meds. Not that I didn't know it wasn't a potential given my family history, but I thought my sister was the only one lucky enough to have the natural twin gene (I have uber delicious twin nephews).

Clearly my body really wants to have a baby. It's throwing double follicles on its own now. But, the writing is already on the wall for those two beautiful orbs. I'm benched. Again. For at least two cycles. And truthfully, it'll probably be even longer (a story for another time).

However, I'm very confused about something, After my u/s I had bloodwork: Tsh, Hcg, estradiol, and progesterone. My nurse called with the results yesterday afternoon. After hearing them I hung up the phone, completely befuttled.

1. My progesterone came back at 2.20. And since it was above 1, my RE feels that I have already ovulated and can expect my period within the next two weeks. But... umm... we just saw two follicles sitting pretty in my ovaries not 5 minutes prior. Huh? 
2. And, my Hcg came back at 55.18. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that you can't cycle until your Hcg is back down to zero. Double-huh? 

You'd think that a girl with a chart the size of mine would understand this shit by now. But I don't and I'm *really* not in the mood to consult Dr. Google. He's a liar anyway. Maybe you self-proclaimed science geeks (yes Cristy, I'm looking at you) or others with more knowledge than I, can enlighten me. Any guesses to what is really going on?

Recovery: day 14

I'm lucky in that my fertility clinic is amazing in so many ways. It's clear that Dr. D cares very much. As does her staff. I get calls to make sure I'm healing and bad news (and good) never comes from a stranger. I'm also lucky that I usually don't have to wait for test results or call backs. I don't have to fight to be heard. I have access to my RE through direct email and her personal cell phone. My clinic is open on Saturdays and Sundays. I don't fit to their schedule, they fit to mine. I feel that these people are in this fight with me. They are just as invested. Not from a numbers perspective, but from their hearts.

A few days after my D&C my phone rang. I was expecting it; I'd been looking for that restricted call on my caller ID for days. The only bad thing about not having to wait, is that this kind of news rips open wounds that are still trying to heal. But I suppose, this happens even when you have to wait. There is no amount of good in hearing bad news.

I already knew that it this was going to be a chromosomal issue. The large yolk sac said so. What I didn't know was what caused it. But this time it was me. It was my egg. An extra chromosome 22 and totally incompatible with life. It was a very conclusive answer. I'm starting to understand what it feels like when the fault lies squarely on your own shoulders. Our infertility issues never had an answer. Unexplained infertility doesn't lay blame. Our last loss was due to a bad sperm but I never, for a second, was angry with Mike. It was just bad luck. And though consciously I know this is how I should look at it this time around, it feels very different. My baby was defective because of me. It didn't survive because of me.

The test results brought other news too. News that I knew would hurt regardless of the answer. Finding out the sex of a baby at only 8 weeks in utero is never good. It's information you should only receive during an ultrasound at 18 weeks, with smiles and chatters of prom nights or sports games. Anything earlier means something went very, very wrong. Dr. D didn't offer this information when she called, but I asked for it. There was a pause, I closed my eyes, it stung like hell. It was male. We've now had one boy, one girl, and one little unknown soldier. We've achieved, and lost, everything.

The necklace I purchased after my last loss brought me quite a bit of healing. It is something tangible that allows me to remember. Something that doesn't get filed away in a memory box or brushed under the rug because it's too hard to talk about it. I wear it constantly and often find myself holding it when I need strength. It's the perfect symbol of my little girl. I needed to do the same for this one. Something a bit different but that honors this last pregnancy just the same. Something to remember my little boy. It's ironic that such tiny symbols represent the single biggest events of my entire life.

PICTURE REMOVED

I'm trying to heal. And I am. With each day- I am healing little by little. But damn am I tired.

Cycle 19, CD 36 (18 DPO)

Beta #2 came back with good doubling numbers.

I've been numb ever since I saw that second line. Numb, dotted with bit of fear. Then last night, out of nowhere, I broke down into uncontrollable sobs. In my desperation to start trying again, never once did it dawn on me that it would happen so fast. And in that line of thinking, if it did happen fast, that I could be faced with another miscarriage. The last one is still so fresh. I still think about her all the time.

It's like I just got pummeled by a wave, was barely able to stand up again, and am looking at another one headed right for me.

But there are things that keep me afloat too. On Sunday when I found myself in a state of total shock, I quickly dialed the emergency-Trisha-hotline. She talked me down and made me laugh. When she asked me what my RE said, it dawned on me that I hadn't even called my her yet. We laughed even harder at that. I'm more lost and scared and vulnerable than I have ever been in my life. I'm terrified that I'm going to drown in this wave. But knowing that you are all hoping for me, means the world. It's the support that I can't possibly give to myself right now. Not now, but hopefully eventually.

To my loves, thank you.

6 weeks

And... we have a single, beautiful little heartbeat.

Shock and awe don't even come close to explaining what I'm feeling right now. That, and more hope than I ever remember feeling in my entire life.