Recovery: day 29

I am here. I'm just traveling again. As my last post insinuated, I am home. "Home" being a squishy word.

I've been going through some really difficult things lately. Things that I have not been able to post about yet, but hopefully will soon. The other day I was with my mom; the tears were falling fast, my body was weak, and everything just felt so... big. My mom pulled me to her and I ended up falling asleep with my head in her lap while she stroked my hair. I felt like I was three years old again. So loved. So safe.

The door has opened. Now I just have to step through. It's just that that first step is a doozy. And I'm terrified.

8 weeks, 0 days

I'm exactly where I was when I lost my last pregnancy. The significance of this day is not lost on me. If I find out on Wednesday that we still have a heartbeat, this will officially be my longest pregnancy to date. Ironic that it is the unhealthy pregnancy that lasts the longest.

I'm not looking forward to this week. Actually, I have a feeling it's going to be an all time shit-fest.

• Wednesday: Followup u/s with Dr. D. As I see it, there are three possible outcomes: 1) No heartbeat and grieving escalates 2) Slowed heartbeat and prolonged waiting for the inevitable end or 3) Continued "normal" heartbeat and more agonizing over the 'what if's' and, of course, more waiting. Yeah, no good options in there. 
• Thursday AM: Appointment with the fetal development specialist (if we get that far). For some reason the idea of seeing this doctor scares me to death. I also hate going to new doctors- the fear of the unknown is daunting. What if their super-powered u/s machine shows me something I don't want to see? Though unlikely, this thought plagues me. 
• Thursday PM: Remember my friends that found out they were pregnant exactly as I lost my last pregnancy? (No? You can read about it HERE). They are flying across the country to stay with me for 4 days (the trip was planned 6 months ago). Since my last miscarriage our friendship has struggled quite a bit. There has been a distance that has never been there before and I don't know if it is my fault or theirs or a combination of the two. I'm just dreading the thought of seeing my friend's partner's swollen belly for days on end. In my home. I have weird fears about their visit too. Like, I'm worried that if she voices one little pregnancy complaint, I will be down her throat. Or, that she will unconsciously cradle her swollen belly with her hands. I don't even want to hug her at the airport because I don't want to touch it. It sounds crazy, but this is where I am at. If hotels in our area weren't $300/night, I might have asked them to stay elsewhere. But they are, and so I can't. I'm not going to be able to handle this gracefully. Truthfully, I don't want them here. It's the worst timing imaginable. But I'm stuck and have to get through it somehow.

I fired my therapist, Zsa Zsa. My appointment last Monday was the final straw: 

1. I was talking to Zsa-Zsa about how hard it has been for me to relate to the rest of the world. I used an example of a friend of mine who texted me a few days prior. She was venting about her horrible day. It turns out her three-year old twins were going through a "phase" and she was beyond frustrated and angry. I found it impossible to text back any kind of support because, the reality of it is, I would cut off both my arms to have her problems. When I finished, Zsa-Zsa turned and angrily scolded me: "Tutti, you have NO idea how hard it is to raise children. You have NO idea." I sat there shocked. I couldn't even manage a reply. And though it's not right of me to play the Pain-Olympics, it also wasn't right for her to reprimand me for voicing my struggles in therapy. I shut down for the rest of the session. 
2. I realized that though Zsa-Zsa has been a sympathetic ear for the last eight months, she hasn't helped me. I have asked her a number of times for ways to cope and strategies to deal with all this grief and pain. But there has been nothing except the advice that 'time will heal'. Gee, thanks. 
3. At the end of the appointment Zsa-Zsa said, "I know you said nothing is really helping you right now, so would you like to cancel your appointment for next week?" Way to support a girl in crisis. Talk about feeling abandoned. So I cancelled my appointment next week. And all future appointments. 

Now I have to find a new therapist. 

I realize what a horrible place this blog has been. Looking back, there are few (if any) upbeat posts over the last several months. This place has been consumed with sadness, fear, pain, grief, anger, and sadness (deserves to be mentioned twice). And truth be told, it is not chronically this bad in real life, this is just where I feel safe voicing these feelings. So it becomes a dumping ground. However, I hope that at some point there will be light and happiness too. Maybe even some hope (don't want to get too far ahead of myself though). I just want to thank each of you for sticking with me. I know it's not easy to read and I know how difficult it is to find the right words to say sometimes. But with each comment that is left, I feel the support and love. And it helps so, so much. I gather so much strength from you all, strength that is so badly needed right now.

7 weeks, 4 days

I find it difficult to post lately. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't know where to start. I guess I'll just start with the concrete stuff.

My u/s yesterday was everything I hoped it wouldn't be: it provided no answers and no end.

• We still have a heartbeat. It is on the lower end, but still within normal range at 109bpm. When Dr. D flipped on the sound, I was wholly unprepared. The sound of that little heartbeat made me cry big, rolling tears. It sounded so... strong. So alive. It made me feel insanely guilty that I had gone into the appointment wishing only for silence. 
• CRL almost doubled from Friday, although still measuring a few days behind. 
• Yolk sac size reduced only very slightly from 9mm to 8.5mm, which is still in the highly concerning range.

Dr. D recommended that we go see a fetal development specialist. It's never good when your specialist refers you to an even more specialized specialist. She doesn't think that they will be able to give us any additional answers since I'm still so early, but they have more powerful u/s machines so she wants us to at least try. She also wants me to ask them about the Materni T21 test if I make it to 10 weeks. This is the blood test for downs syndrome, trisomy 18, and 13. I scheduled this appointment for next Thursday but I fully expect to have to cancel. My next u/s with Dr. D is Wednesday. I just can't be optimistic enough that we'll make it that far.    

I (politely) forced Dr. D into giving me odds. She said that her best bet is a 75% likelihood of this not working. Which in many respects is much better odds than even last week. She must have read my mind because she quickly followed with, "Do not get excited Tutti, things are still weighted heavily against you". I appreciate her honesty. Even if this baby somehow makes it, what are the chances that it will be a healthy baby? I don't know what to do with that. My head tells me to continue grieving because there is no way this is going to work. But the what-ifs play on my heartstrings when I'm asleep at night. I just can't handle the back and forth. So I tell myself that it is only a matter of time until this pregnancy ends and try to manage this mind-fuck that way. I don't know any other way to do it.

To add insult to injury, my pregnancy symptoms are increasing. As they should, because I'm technically still pregnant. Queasiness, fatigue, vivid dreams, sore boobs, frequent peeing: all symptoms I'm familiar with from previous pregnancies. However the one I'm struggling with most is my sense of smell. It's like someone gave me a bonus super power. The scent of burning frankincense from the church 3 blocks down and through closed windows wakes me up each morning. The smell of the shampoo as my husband takes a shower is entirely overpowering. I smell the dirt when I walk outside and I live in the middle of the fucking city. It's insane really. I feel honored to experience these things, but resentful that it won't result in what I want more than anything in the entire world.

This whole thing is just really, really hard.

Cycle 19, CD 44 (26 DPO)

After my last beta, they scheduled me for my first ultrasound. Based on my LMP,  I should have been 6 weeks yesterday.

I was working on getting to a calmer place mentally but facing that first ultrasound gave me quite a bit of angst. First, because I still have those last u/s images swimming around my head. As crazy as it sounds, I felt like it was going to be a scene out of a horror movie where I saw a dead 9 week old fetus instead of the tiny blip of a 6 week old embie. Crazy, I know. But those are the tricks my mind plays on me. Secondly, Mike is out of town on business. So, I was going to have to this all by myself. Que panic.

But I didn't have any choice so yesterday I put my big girl pants on and marched myself into the clinic.

Dr. D and my favorite nurse S innately understood my anxiety. They were both holding their breath along with me. I was mostly ok until that probe was finally in. Those first few moments of silence when your doctor intently studies the monitor and you frantically study your doctor's face in attempts to figure out if it is good or bad news, is almost too much. It's probably only a few seconds, but I could hear the blood in my ears, my heart thumping out of my chest. It's a dreadful moment.

We did see a gestational sac. And a yolk sac. And what looked like a teeny grain of rice floating in the abyss. But no heartbeat. Dr. D was quick to say that it might just be too early. She didn't realize I knew when I ovulated (I only happened to pull out the OPKs because I wanted to be sure my miscarriage didn't totally fuck up my body) so based on this new information, I'm actually only 5w4d. With that recalculation, it is very unlikely we would see a heartbeat this early.

Dr. D then went on to say that when she was pregnant and did an u/s on herself (I couldn't help but laugh at that image- to which she smiled and said, "it's one of the perks that come with the job") she only saw a tiny grain of rice too. But I know it's a numbers game at this point. At my u/s next Tuesday we could see a heartbeat or... we could not. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it in the meantime, except hope.

The good news is I made it through this ordeal by myself. I didn't do it willingly but I did feel a sense of empowerment. Like, maybe I'm not as weak as I thought. Mike will still be out of town on Tuesday so at least I know now that I can indeed do this without him. I just wish he could be there, you know, just in case it is good news.