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.

Let the recurrent miscarriage testing begin!

July 31. My appointment with my doctor to talk about recurrent miscarriage testing. I have been waiting for this day since I made the appointment five weeks ago (when July 31 seemed like an agonizing eternity. I wanted to know now!). 

But don’t believe the hype. We walked out of the clinic with not much more knowledge or optimism. When my husband and I left I felt confused, tired, frustrated and sad. Again, with the tears flowing as we got into the car and headed to my work. I could cry for a few seconds in front of him or at the folks at work. A somewhat easy choice. 

First, the waiting room. It was still cycle monitoring time, a completely new concept to me a year ago. Dozens of women on their own, with husbands or with their female partners waiting for the role call: blood tests, ultrasound and chat with the doctor. I didn’t mind the waiting — i have done it many times before. This time, and this may completely be my projection, the longing in the room felt palpable and powerful. Each women and each men was striving for the same thing; something so easy and natural to others; yet puzzlingly and painfully hard for us. They want a baby. First timers at the clinic. Couples taking the fertility step of IVF. And no doubt others like us who have come heartbreakingly close to have to start all other again. 

My doctor is a good one. Funny, empathetic. Busy and technical too though like others. She grabs my file and reads it on the fly, refreshing on my fertility history. I am a suit with a work life filled with meetings with time to prepare whether it is in depth or a quick scan. She holds medical decisions in her hands, steps that could determine our ability to be parents or not and yet she, as a doctor, has no time to review a file in advance. There are too many of us.

Quickly she ran through the potential causes and their corresponding tests. The sound of one (uterine biopsy) definitely had my legs tightly crossed. Lots of blood tests. Lots of medical words and a few X Files- sounding one (Protein S? Factor V? creepy). I have a headstart at least. I got the HSG or whatever the one-where-they-shoot-dye-in-your-tubes- to- see- if -they -are- blocked and a few other much less painful ones when they did the infertility testing last year. Oh my god, that one hurt. It felt like my tubes were bucking like a rodeo bull in protest. Today, it was quick discussion with the dr. Much more to come, I hope, with the results.

One question threw me for a loop and later in the car with my husband, I wondered if I made the right choice. I asked him to go through the very sound reasons why he and I made the right choice. My period started Saturday — she wanted to know if we wanted to start another cycle, start to try again, right at that very minute…What? I thought it would be too late for this cycle. I went with my instincts which told me, almost screamed at me, you are not ready yet. You can not go through the ups and downs without some mental cheerleading going on first (gimme a b…a…b..y). I wanted to be practical and first see if there was something we could fix or make better, and not go through this hell and pain again. She looked pleased and nodded. Some couples, she said, could not wait and wanted to try right away. 

Just minutes later my heart piped up. You are already obsessed, it said cheekily. Why not do something about it? Move these forward, try try to have that baby now. Maybe the two miscarriages were simply bad luck and badder luck. Is that way I felt dissatisfied? Or just one of the reasons? It’s not like she can read my palm and predict my fertility future. What magical medical advice was I expecting?

Now my parts will be probed, a piece of my uterus snipped. Blood taken, our karotypes analyzed. I am a collection of parts. Some of them used to be private, but are now getting used to being displayed on cool long metal tables, covered in sterile paper. Anonymous and capable people in labs across the city will test our parts and compile reports. 

I don’t want to be a collection of parts (mini temper tantrum in my head). Trying to have a baby is supposed to be fun, right? nudge nudge. Have lots of sex for a month, maybe two, maybe three and then you’re doing a happy dance with a positive pregnancy test in your hands. This is not fun. Trying is not fun. Sex, ok that can be fun. But not like this.

A month from now we will meet with the doctor again. She will try to take all the data on these parts and paint our roadmap. About fertility, miscarriage but also our life, our fortune. She said they only find a cause in 50% of the cases; the rest remain a mystery. Nonetheless, I will want to try again in the fall. We have gone through 4 cycles; and got pregnant twice. We are pros (with medical assistance) with this. Maybe by end of August she will have an answer for us. All the poked, probed and bled dry parts will be a faint, uncomfortable memory if we can have our baby in the future.