From bitter to better…how did that happen?

Just to add some variety to my ole life, last week’s depression has see-sawed to feeling just about all right. Where exactly was this switch that I inadvertently flipped from sad to good and how can I ensure I find it the right time I feel like I am shuffling along in the dark? 

I would like to attribute this to hormones. But honestly, given my irregular cycles, I can not track what my body is doing from one week to the next. After I went off the pill two years and we started to TTC I used to think my breasts were telling me something. They were sore…maybe I am pregnant (yay!) or my period was about to start. But this suretell hormonal sign seemed to pop up all over the place with no real pattern. Except both times when I was pregnant. Then they were emphatically sore and for good reason. 

So cross off hormones. Last week I felt I was putting on the mask and acting a role. The professional work face to match my suit. See me trying to entertain friends and act normal at dinner. The (sometimes) happy homemaker hanging out with my husband. Now, I have a sense of humour again. No tears, no moping, no facade.

Some of this emotional flip came from a conversation I had with a coworker, who recently decided to pursue being a mother. She just turned 39 and just had a very early miscarriage. She was only in the know about being pregnant for one day after taking the test when her period was a few days late. Even in that day, she and her husband (who was not convinced until that moment about the whole-having-the-baby thing) were excited, hopeful and emotionally attached. It won’t be easy for her to get pregnant and to stay that way. Doctors have told her this in the past. Despite this fleeting feeling of becoming a parent, her medical challenges and her age, she is hopeful that it is gonna happen. She is going to have a baby. How can I not feel better and be inspired by an attitude like that?

Paint it white

Maybe it is the fumes from painting the kitchen cabinets a nice bright white today or the sun finally peeking out after almost two days of rain, but I feel hopeful today. 

I have been thinking about August 28. That is when we go to back to the doctor’s for the results of some recurrent miscarriage tests. I also want to get a prescription for Provera to induce my period. It will be at that point more than a month since the first and only period after miscarriage 2. And given it could take months for nature to take its course that means I need the period kickstart so that we can start (deep breath) to try again. 

On August 28 we will not have the karotyping back yet. We will have the blood test results for autoimmune issues and blood clotting issues, thyroid and maybe a few other things. And I know the tubes and uterus look ok, no wonky shapes or blockages, thanks to the infertility testing. So this should cover most of the most common causes of recurrent miscarriages with just a few laggards left.  I don’t feel like waiting any longer after to try again. Otherwise I will just be spin, spinning my wheels while the eggs are not getting any younger!

It’s funny (and a sign that I am feeling better if I think this is funny) but if I do have an issue that is triggering the miscarriages, a blood clotting disorder feels like one of the best options out of a sucky situation. I mean, aspirin and even daily injections while I am pregnant are well worth having a baby at the end of it. And it is a tangible diagnosis with a treatment that does improve our odds. And it seems to fit our two miscarriage scenarios…established heartbeat followed later by slow embryo growth rate and a heart that just stops beating. 

I have read (and the dr told us) that half of the time they never find a cause. And in my especially hopeful moments I think that maybe there is no cause to find. 

So we had better continue to paint the ugly old melamine cabinet doors white. And tackle painting the deck with, no doubt, even more toxic. obnoxious fumes. Because maybe in a month or two we will back to being pregnant I will have to put that paint brush down.

Hope & hooky

I played hooky on one of the recurrent miscarriage tests this week. 

I ran a cost/benefit ratio in my head, admittedly which was filling very full and overwhelmed at the time. I could not quite figure the value of this particular test which I would need to do twice, both times under the influence of pain killers. I was not sure what this would tell the dr that the numerous blood tests before and during my last two pregnancies. They had checked progesterone and my other hormone levels before and they were perfectly normal.

This was no blood test — no, this was inserting a catheter, and sucking out a piece of my uterus to examine the lining. The doctor warned me it would be painful. After my extremely experience with the HSG (where the dye is inserted to see if the tubes are open) which was described in the same understated way, I figured it was a whole of hurt. At the initial “suck” and with cramping later in the day. 

I am definitely torn. On Wednesday night when I made the decision to not go in on Thursday, I felt like I could not take anymore. I was facing a new large project at work along with the old large projects and was just sad, down and low. I didn’t want the pain, I didn’t want to quite possibly be impacted all day at a busy time at work. Didn’t want. Didn’t want. At the time it made a lot of sense.

She wanted to do the test twice at different times of my cycle. Now, it may be too late for one.

BUT…and here is the but I go through when I am in a more hopeful place. All the tests may not tell us anything…because maybe there is nothing to tell. The two miscarriages were bad luck and badder luck and the next time will work out just fine.

Reasons to be grateful while in a dark place

It’s official. I am depressed. I said it. Maybe admitting it is half the battle? 

I know this because the other night I asked my husband. We were walking the dog on a beautiful summer night where the air feels like a warm, scented bath. I know this because often I feel like I am going through the motions. Like trying to be just happy on a beautiful warm summer night with M and pup. 

My question to him opened the floodgates for him to tell me how he feels. That was a bit hard to hear but helpful. It’s only fair. He is frustrated and wants to help. He feels like I don’t enjoy the small things I used to and some of the other small everyday frustrations things seem to be magnified into big bad things. While I make it to work, I don’t spend as much time with my friends. I am more bitter and down, and he thinks it is getting worse not better. I make him feel bad in how I respond to him sometimes, especially about his work schedule. Too curt, too critical and too “whatever” (shoulder shrug)

Last night I did see two of my friends over dinner. Today, C and I emailed back and forth. She knows that I am struggling with the miscarriages, infertility and a stressful job that I need to keep the new roof over our heads. For different reasons, she has been untangling herself from her own vicious cycle. She said — that as cheesy as it sounds — it has helped her to keep a gratitude journal. So in honour of C and her kind, wise counsel and support. I am grateful:

- my dog always always greets me with a happy wag and jump no matter how unlovable I feel

- I live in Canada where at least some of the infertility expenses are paid (surprisingly none of the recurrent miscarriage testing is)

- hey, so I guess I need to add that my job pays well enough that I can afford the testing

- the young raccoons now apparently living part time on our shed have not discovered how delicious almost ripe tomatoes still -on- the- vine are

- That we CAN get pregnant with the help of clomid and other drugs because the more times we can get pregnant, the better our odds

- that the people who say “I know someone who had 4, 5, 10 miscarriages but still had a baby” mean well and are only trying to make us feel hopeful 

- that my legs still look great in high heel sandals and skirt (thanks for the genetics, mom! ) 

- that my husband has a great sperm count. Hey, I need the medical help to ovulate. At least I know when it’s time, his boys have the right stuff.