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.

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?

Evermore

The loss of a child is a pain that all bereaved parents share and a degree of heartache, guilt and even loneliness that is impossible to understand without experiencing it first hand. 

On the day we found about Brynn, after the ultrasound that day, we were basically sent on our way. I needed to get bloodwork but we weren’t given any resources or names of therapists who specialize in the loss of a child. 

M and  I stayed home from work for the rest of the week. But the following Monday, I had to force myself to get dressed and go to work like nothing happened. 

Why am I telling you this? 

Because I wanted to share a resource with you- http://www.live-evermore.org/home

Live Evermore is a new organization which will provide tools to parents and families who have suffered the loss of a child. 

I actually shared my story and found it very therapeutic. You can read it here-  www.live-evermore.org/laurie

I know I should eventually find someone to talk to about losing Brynn. Even at two years later, I don’t think I have really dealt with how losing her has effected me. I will. Eventually. 

Always a Reminder

I follow several parenting groups on Facebook and when ones about loss or miscarriage pop up I usually read them. 

I wish I didn’t fall into the catagory of women who have gone through losses but on some level I know I’m not alone. 

I was tempted to re-post on Facebook but instead I share it with you- 

This part couldn’t be more true for me:

“Today, I still see his influence in the way I react to situations all around me — whether I take a moment to breathe and refocus when my children are whining and crying or when I’m dealing with a problem at work – his death puts every day in perspective.”

I try my hardest to enjoy every moment I have with H because I know what a miracle she is and how lucky I am to have her. 

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/us_576987d0e4b0869377fb4680?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000037

Not So Happy Friday

Beta came back at 171. That is a DT of 103.5 hours. Bad.

I am supposed to continue my meds and go back on Monday for more blood work and an u/s. I really am not sure why they want to do an u/s since they won’t be able to see anything.

I really was hopeful after getting a 2-3 weeks on the CB Estimator this morning.

I am beyond frustrated and tired. Why is it so effing hard to get and STAY pregnant.

Over the course of trying to have a family, we have done a total of 6 IVF/FET cycles. I’ve gotten pregnant 3 times (once with twins) and lost 3 babies. We have transferred a total of 11 embryos and I have had one live birth. Those are some pretty shitty odds.

I am firing our RE. He is willing to continue playing a numbers game and hope something sticks just because I was able to have one child. We had a consult with another RE yesterday and I liked her because she is willing to do additional immune testing and recheck clotting issues. She also said she wouldn’t do the lupron stop protocol for someone with my numbers (3.6 AMH and 10-17 eggs retrieved).

I just want someone to say, hey this this is the problem and this is how to fix it and you WILL get pregnant and STAY pregnant and deliver a healthy child.