100 Foot Waves

Anxiety, fear, hormones, lack of sleep, I don’t know what it is but I am an emotional mess today.

Getting ready to start the day, I was sitting there and brushing H’s hair and just started crying. I don’t feel like doing anything. I have no motivation or maybe I do, but I don’t have the energy to do anything.

After I dropped H off at school and started my day, I received an email from someone at a nonprofit organization called EverMore in regards to a program called North Star that I am participating in.

I was asked to provide a brief bio and one of the last questions I was asked was if there is any encouragement or message I wanted to share with other bereaved parents/families?

This made me think. What would I say to someone who has experienced something similar to help them? The thing is, there are no words that really can “comfort” you or make the pain/anxiety go away. When you lose a child you are forever changed. But the one thing that has stuck with me, was an excerpt from a story that was read at a hospital memorial service for babies who passed away:

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.


In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

This pregnancy has been full of waves for me. And today feels like a 100 foot one.

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Milestones, hurdles and being disconnected

I am 18w today. I heard the baby’s hb this morning, so I know she is still ok.

However, the next three weeks are going to be as hard as the first three, I think.

The last time I saw Brynn alive was 18w3 days. When we went to our scan at 21 weeks, she had passed. No red flags, no reason why. Just a “well twins are high risk” and that was about it.

So of course, I am anxious and just want to fast forward. But I am also scared even if we get passed 21 weeks, I am using up borrowed time. Does that make sense?

I feel so disconnected from this pregnancy.

I am taking weekly pictures but that is about it. We haven’t purchased anything new for the baby. We have a name, but barely use it. I feel like I am not even giving her a chance, but I think I am too scared to let myself get excited.

Normal given everything or should I really find a therapist?

Anxiety Attack

You guys I close to being on the verge of tears and my heart is pounding. Seriously, my heart rate is 95 right now typing this out.

I am so scared for tomorrow’s ultrasound. Sunday night I got sick, yesterday I felt ok and today I have some mild cramps. My “symptoms” are all over the place and come and go and don’t seem as bad as they did when I was pregnant with the girls. Maybe it was because it was twins? Girls?

All I know is that I am preparing myself for the worst tomorrow. I am so scared that I am going to get there and the RE say the words no one ever should hear “sorry there is no heartbeat”. IF and multiple loss PTSD is real.

 

15dp5dt= 5 Weeks

Today’s beta was 124. Low compared to “normal” implanters, but I am trying to stay positive and focus on the fact that the beta is doubling. In fact, it doubled in 34 hours.

I am scared. Like super nervous that since the beta is low and it was a late implanter that we won’t make it to 6 weeks to see the heartbeat. Maybe that is fear from the miscarriage in August talking. I just feel like I am about to wake up from this dream at any time and this pregnancy will be over.

I am trying really hard to focus on the here and now though. I’ve already told my family. I regret not telling them about Olo until after we lost him. I need all of the prayers and support I can get. I have left it up to M to decided whether or not he wants to tell his parents.

Dr. L wants to me to back on Friday for another beta. In the meantime I think I will buy a CBE week estimator and take it tomorrow. By that point, my beta should be 200 and I should get a 2-3 weeks on the test. That will provide me some comfort I think, well I hope!

Anxiety

I am currently in TTC auto-pilot mode. I wake up and take my first pill of the day. At lunch I eventually remember to take my BCP. Even after two rounds of IVF, it’s so stupid to me that as an infertile couple I have to take a birth control pill. I realize the purpose is so different than actually preventing pregnancy. Fast forward to bed time, I take 4 more pills.

I try not to think about the cycle. My subconscious does. The other night I had a dream that M and & I were out and my teeth were slowly crumbling and right when he announced I was pregnant again, they fell out. I told him and the group that I wasn’t pregnant. We were still weeks away from the transfer. Some one in the group suspected we were going through fertility treatments and then the was a raise of hands of how many others were in the same boat.

I guess I am starting to get scared as I finish up the pill. Next week I will have my pre-FET appointment and start the estrogen injections. NEXT WEEK!

I hate the process. I hate the unknowns. I hate the emotional toll it takes.

Up until a few weeks ago, I just assumed it would work. I mean, I would transfer a great blastocyst, my lining would be awesome and I will have had the endometrial scratch. That’s a guaranteed positive, right?

Except it’s not. The stars can align and nothing can happen. Or maybe I get a positive but it turns out to be a chemical or miscarriage. It’s such a crap shoot. An expensive, emotionally tolling crap shoot.

I need to get my head right before we start because right now the more I think about it the more anxious I become. And I think it’s a different type of anxiety from last time. It’s more of I know what I have to lose and it hurts to think about it.