What Fall Means Now

I used to love the fall season. I loved the smell of it in the air. The anticipation of the crisp cool weather that brought with it apple picking, and cider, pumpkin picking and trick or treating, and my Halloween birthday. I loved to watch the leaves change and honestly be mystified by how beautiful they were. I looked forward to yummy Thanksgiving with my husband, L/C, mom, dad, sisters and nieces and nephews. Fall was always the season I looked forward to the most.

You know what fall means to me now. Pain. Pure and utter pain. It was the time I was so happy to find out I was pregnant with Devyn, and the time I found out that my precious baby boy was sick. It is the time that reminds me of how helpless I felt to save my son, searching and searching for something to find hope and some way to save him, finding help, and then him dying before I could get him to that help. It is the time that I really found out who my true friends were, and also found out that some whom I thought were my friends, chose to ignore me because THEY felt uncomfortable. It is the time where I really began to feel that I really did not matter to God because how could He play such a cruel joke on someone like that. I wanted my baby so very badly, and he was given to me and then taken away. Where can the rationale for that be?? Fall is the time I had to go through the pain of labor knowing I would not have my son come home with me in the end. Fall is the time when I found out that mommies and daddies have to make arrangements at funeral homes for their babies. Fall is the time when my life and my heart broke in to a million pieces.

Is fall my favorite season anymore?? I don't think so.

A bad IVF gone IUI: Just circling the drain

"Right ovary, 2 less than 10, left ovary 3 less than 10" repeat scenario about two or three times. "You don't seem to be responding." I wait for my nurse to call me to tell me what I think is inevitable, that my cycle will be cancelled. After all of the injections we're still  nowhere, again. She calls later that afternoon to say, "don't get depressed yet, Dr. K wants you to stim a bit longer this time." 

"Oh, yes, thank you", I say. Inside I feel a glimmer of hope, small, but at least there. I am used to being disappointed so often now, so I cannot help the "waiting for the other shoe to drop" feeling.

I go in for more scans and blood work and find that the follicles decided to wake up and start growing. Three of them to be exact. Two larger mature ones, and one that still has a bit more growing to do to be considered "mature". (I guess you could compare that one to  a mildly disobedient adolescent.) Well, the cut off for my clinic to do IVF is 4 mature ones so, Dr. K says we are converting to IUI. I say to myself at least it's try. I try to psyche myself out, and remember the first IUI I had that resulted in pregnancy. I did miscarry at 8 weeks, but I did get pregnant. I so want to believe that this IUI will work. No matter how I try to not get overly hopeful, my heart is always invested, from that deep longing inside of me.

After the two back to back IUI procedures, I am sent home to wait until the following Monday to come in to get my progesterone levels checked. Monday comes and I get the call later that afternoon that my progesterone is normal, and I am given the date to come in for a beta test. The stressful 2 week wait begins. I consciously made an effort to ignore any symptoms of pregnancy that came around to taunt and tease me, and there were some, but I just pushed them out of my mind. I would not even answer my sweet husband who kept asking me how I was feeling, and kept, as he put it, trying to "read my signals". 

Then it happens. Three days before my beta test, I start spotting brown. I call the nurse and she calls back and says it could be implantation spotting, or it could be my period beginning. I am not hopeful as I never had implantation spotting with any of my pregnancies. Then the following morning, "a red tide at dawn". It's officially over. Maybe in the back of my mind I really knew that this cycle was circling the drain. I just had to wait for the "gurgle" for it to be official.

I am just so damned... no, fucking, hurt, disappointed, shattered, feel shit upon by life, and angry. I feel alone, at times misunderstood, and abandoned by God, whom I was taught to worship as a child. 

My husband is so sweet. He says to me on his way to work yesterday, "Maybe since there was more than one follicle, maybe one is still there hanging on". I so appreciated this from him, even though I know it is not the case. Later that evening he placed a card on my pillow, that said " Each day contains its own challenges, mysteries, and expectations.... Don't give up - the good stuff is just around the corner." He wrote a personal not inside to the same effect and said he believes that we have had enough disappointments and he believes that excellent things are around the corner for us. I love him for this.

I feel so beaten down. I miss my son so much each day, and I long to have another healthy baby. I feel so incomplete, and I cannot explain it to anyone. Looking from the outside in, people think I should be OK. I am not. I really don't want to get up in the morning, but I do. I really don't want to smile, but I force it. I want to cry most of the time from sadness and disappointment, but hold it in, as best I can. I love, hug, and kiss my living children, but someone is missing. My mind never gets a rest from that, and never will. 

At my job, I see a child in need and I try to fulfill their need, doing it in my Devyn's name because I cannot do it for him because he is in heaven. I try to make the children I teach feel happy, and loved because that is what all children deserve, and my heart breaks when I see the ones who are are abused or neglected. I do what I can for them, in my Devyn's name, be it getting them clothes, school supplies, kindness, caring, understanding, encouragement, whatever it is.

But I still feel the emptiness. The raw edges of the piece of my heart that is missing, and the raw edges of it's shattered pieces. 

Someone angry this way comes...

I am angry. Angry about everything and nothing. I know it might not make sense to some people. I am angry my son is not here with me today. I am angry that my body will not cooperate with my IVF meds, and it is looking like cycle #2 will be cancelled like cycle #1. I feel slap, after slap, after slap. My faith is totally shaken. I try so hard stay optimistic and positive but I feel beaten down with each disappointment that happens, one after the other, like there are waves washing over me, and barely letting me take a breath. Lately it is hard to see the shore. 

I know the the meds are probably adding to my feelings of despair and emptiness. I cried most of the day yesterday after my morning monitoring, when the RE said that I did not seem to be responding, with 5 follicles less than 10mm each. And I am on what they call their most aggressive protocol. When they cancelled cycle #1 saying poor response, my body later took over and I ovulated on my own, and did not realize it until an ultrasound confirmed it.

Why has my life turned out this way? All I can do is look at Devyn's urn and imagine what he would look like now, and how it would feel to have him in my arms and hug and kiss his sweet little face. 

Such a dichotomy, to long for my lost baby, and to hope and long to be pregnant again. I guess it's no wonder my heart and soul are so heavy.

My Husband Says I Am A Magnet, Salt in Wounds

It is so hard for me to look at pregnant women, and newborns and for this I feel like a bad person. I would not wish what I have been through on anyone, but it just hurts me to see big pregnant bellies and newborn babies. We were invited to my nephews 1st birthday party, which is difficult for me because my niece and I were pregnant together, and she was due the month after me. Watching her pregnancy progress was very torturous for me. I had a constant lump in my throat and ache in my heart. I love my nephew, and he was the only baby I could even remotely be around without completely crumbling, but his birthday is bittersweet for me. But that is not the reason why I had to tell her that I could not come to the party. It is because of her sister in law. She is very much pregnant and I just could not sit there and have to see her belly. It was hard enough this year to constantly see my co-worker who is pregnant. I could go weeks without running into her, but as soon as she got pregnant, I would run into her almost every day. I am a stay to myself kind of person at work >my room is in the for corner of a hallway, and I stay in it most of the time. Well, I was not even safe there anymore. For some reason she felt the need to come see me there also. She knows I lost my baby. 

I know these women have never done anything to me, but it just hurts so to look at them. On Friday while in an assembly, a little girl, about 2 years old, who happened to be the sister of a boy who played baseball with my 8 year old son, kept coming up to me, and hanging around me. Her mom, whom I know, came over to me and said "say hello", and the little girl did. I commented on how much she had grown,, since I had last saw her as a little baby. The the mother nudges me with her elbow and says "Hey, were having another one! Number 5!" I can only imagine what my face looked like, and I managed to choke out congratulations, with a forced smile on my face. I wanted to crawl under my seat. I could not concentrate on the assembly after that.  Again I wish nothing bad on anyone, but it just hurts. Why not me? Why can't I have my baby? Why is this so hard?

We decided to do IVF, and I was in my first cycle in May. Well, my cycle was canceled, because to six follicles I grew would not grow big enough, probably because of  over suppression. I was absolutely crushed. We are going to try again, with different meds, but because of the RE schedule, and our family vacation in July I will not be able to cycle again until August. I feel like every week that I miss, my chances lessen. And I just miss my Devyn so much. I do not want to, and could not ever replace my sweet baby boy.  But, I have this ache inside of me to have another baby, and it does not leave me. I feel so unfinished, so cheated, and I think that people have a hard time understanding that when they know I have other living children. I just feel sad, and that no one really "gets it". 

Devyn's due date

Devyn's due date was May 12th. No one in my family remembered except maybe my husband. One friend of mine remembered. She called me and let me know that she was thinking of me. I love her for that more than she knows. She remembers that even though my son never took a breath, or physically walked on this earth, he is somebody. Somebody who deserves to be remembered.  I guess since Devyn is not physically here with me, he is not tangible to others and he is not in many peoples mental calendar really, except for mine, his mommie. 

I worked on the 12th, but kind of just went through the motions. I didn't stay late like I usually do. I went to a plant nursery a purchased a clematis to plant in Devyn's memory garden. I spent the rest of the afternoon in to the evening in his garden, weeding planting, digging, mulching and talking to Devyn in my mind. It's sad in a way that this is all that I can do for my son. When I was done my heart still ached. And that nagging dirty three letter word "why" was ringing within me stronger than ever. Why can't I hold my baby boy in my arms?? Why did he have to die?? 

Due date getting closer

I have been feeling so very emotional lately in anticipation of my Angel Boy's 1 year due date. He was due May 12, 2008. I know that my husband and I will be he only ones to remember. I close my eyes sometimes and try to imagine what he would look like now, what it would feel like to hold him tight in my arms and kiss his face. Something that I will only be able to imagine. I am not the same person I used to be. I have changed so much. I know I make others uncomfortable because they want me to be the old person they know. She's gone with a one way ticket out of here. I think it is because my heart is not whole. So many pieces and one missing. I do things for children at school who are in need because I cannot do them for my son. In my mind I tell myself I am doing it in his name. I guess that is my way to honor him, since I cannot physically do anything for him. Oh how I miss him. This is such an unnatural order of things. Babies are not supposed to die. No matter how long I live I will never be able to wrap my mind around it.

The story of my baby boy Devyn

After having my first miscarriage I was devastated and no one except my husband could understand why. "Why are you so upset, it's just a bunch of cells" my OB of 13 years said. How could he say something like that to me, I thought to myself. 

We decided to try again and became pregnant, and switched OB's. I was over the moon with happiness and also very, very nervous at the same time. I wonder in retrospect if inside I sensed something would got terribly wrong. If I took 1 test I took 20. 

At my six week ultrasound baby was measuring right on schedule. Everything looked fine. I could hardly wait until my 12 week ultra screen ultrasound to see more. I started to show early and really did not realize how much until I saw my school picture. It was obvious something was happening in the picture.

The day for the ultrasound came and I remember being so nervous the day before afraid they were going to find something wrong. My husband and I waited in anticipation until the ultrasound tech came to get us.  She turned on the machine, and we saw the most beautiful profile on the screen, and heard a strong steady heartbeat. It was our son, even though we did not know he was a he at the time officially, my husband and I both "felt" he was a boy. (we found out later that our feelings were correct) The tech even commented saying " what a cute little profile." We were overjoyed! She never let on that anything was wrong. I had a full bladder, and she told me that it was not letting her get one of the pictures she needed, and asked me to go to the bathroom and come back. She continued the ultrasound, printed us some pictures and had us wait in the waiting room for the perinatologist. We still had no clue, and looked at the pictures smiling, and happy, and commenting how much that sweet profile looked so much like our older son.

The perinatologist called us in and gave us a report. He gave us such great news. Because of my age, 42, my risk factors before the test were really high for downs and the trisomies, but after the test my risk factors significantly dropped to that of like a 26 year old.  I exhaled a sigh of relief. But in the very next breath he said, pushing an ultrasound picture toward me, but we found this. Devyn had a urinary tract obstruction. He gave us no hope, saying treatment options fail, and told us we could terminate. And kept telling us we could terminate, over and over again. I felt like the entire world came crashing down on my head. I could no longer talk, and was thinking, how could he be telling me to terminate by baby. You just gave us such wonderful news about my risks, and now you are telling me my baby is going to die, and there is not help anywhere, and you are telling me to take his life??? What the fuck is this!!!!! 

I called my OB who was of no use, and as things progressed continued to be useless. I spent day an night researching what I found out, on my own, that my baby boy had Lower Urinary Tract Obstruction, or LUTO. It occurs in 1 in 5,000 to 8,000 male babies. As my husband put it, we hit the bad luck lottery. I had to find him help. I am his mommy. I literally searched day and night on the internet for some shred of help or hope. I reached out to my doctor, and he was absolutely clueless, and apparently chose to remain so because he offered me no help, or support what so ever. He said to me that I needed to find a therapist to support me through this and he would recommend someone. Then in the next breathe he said he did not know of any therapist so I would have to find one on my own. He was often too busy to return any phone calls, and each time I called the office I was transfered all over and had to continually repeat what was going on to who I was transfered to. Phone calls there always ended in hopeless crying. He basically abandoned us.

I continued my search for help for my son and myself. I found out about a surgeon in Florida who treats the disorder in utero beginning at 16 week, and also a counselor who dealt with trauma and loss. ALL ON MY OWN. When I told my doctor about everything I was able to find his response was that he "was so proud of my research skills" and he "would like all of that information so he could help his patients in the future". I was beyond floored he would say that to me. I/we were his pateint(s) now and he did not do crap to help us! 

To get help for my son I had to have a CVS done, something which I was always totally against having, but I had no choice. If Devyn was not chromosomally normal, they would not operate. I will go to my grave feeling in my heart that that was what caused him to die. we got the news back that he was 100% chromosomally normal, and the news he was a boy. 

Everything was set up for us to fly to Florida, during my 16th week of pregnancy. I went for my last check up before leaving for Florida, and the doctor could not find his heartbeat. He sent us to the hospital across the street to have an ultrasound. The doctor there treated us like dirt. She came in still chewing her dinner, and behaved like we were interrupting her, saying "I can't find the heartbeat either, sorry, and walked out. They brought the phone in with the doctor on call, someone I never met, who began talking to me about options. It was all a blur. She then hung up and my regular doctor (S.O.B.) called and told me more about options, and that he would call me tomorrow with arrangements, and then he says, if he forgets to call me and I don't hear from him by 10:00 give him a call. WHAT THE HELL!! IF HE FORGETS!!! Well he never called and we called and left messages and he did not return the calls until much much later. He told us that someone from the hospital would call us, and that delivering Devyn would probably be delayed until Friday,  because of the holiday. That call never happened either. My husband called to get in contact with someone, and he was given the run around. He was even told the person that the doctor said was to call was not even in that day. Meanwhile I just kept asking him if I was losing my mind, because I could swear I felt Devyn move, ane I could not believe all of this was happening. Finally many many hours someone called from the hospital, and they told me that the doctors that "take care of this" were both out of town and they would not be back until late the following week, and I was given an appointment for 8 days later. No one seemed to care that my baby was dead inside of me. It did not seem important to anyone except my husband and me.  When my councelor called to see how I was doing, I told her "I feel like I am in pergatory, getting ready to go to hell." I had to carry him knowing he was dead for 9 days.

My husband said the only reason he knew I was not losing my mind was the fact that I kept asking him. I still kept feeling phantom movements. We even went to a different hospital to have an ultrasound done because I was so convinced I felt Devyn move. 

My husband said he could not let me go on like this and that he could not bring me back to the hospital and the doctors who treated us so poorly. He felt that if we went back there he would lose me. He began a search for help. He got on the computer, and called and searched and searched and found a doctor who treated  Devyn, myself, and my husband with respect. And it is amazing to me that my original doctor and hospital was in a rather affluent area, and treated us like shit, and the doctor and hospital my husband found, who eventually delivered Devyn was in a inner city poorer section of the State we live in and treated us 300% better at the most horrible times of our lives. It just goes to show that having affluence has nothing to do with treating people. My baby boy was not alive, but he still deserved respect. He is my son. I cry each day for him. 

If Devyn had made it to his due date, I should have a 11 month old beautiful boy toddling around right now. My heart breaks each time I walk past his footprints and his ashes each day. So many do not understand this, as I have other children. That really hurts me. One child does not replace another, and I love and want all my children. My heart is broken, and a piece is missing.

Tired of people telling me I should be grateful

I am so tired of people telling me to be happy for the living children that I have. I am so, so very grateful for them. I love them with everything I have within me. I love all my lost babies, too. I want all of my babies with me. One child cannot replace another. And people do not realize that secondary infertility hurts, too.

Failed IUI

I tested this morning and it was negative. I was hoping first day of spring, a new beginning. That idea was shot to hell. This was our second IUI. Our first ended in a miscarriage at 8 weeks. We have been trying since 2006 to have another baby. We have had during this time a miscarriage, a stillbirth, another miscarriage, a blighted ovum and now another failed IUI. And I'm not getting any younger. I feel like life hates me for some reason. Why does it have to be so hard. I try so hard not to be bitter but it is just seeping into me slowly. My heart just hurts so much right now. I have to suck it up and go to work and put on my "I'm just nifty" face. I know I will break into pieces when I see my pregnant co-worker. Facing pregnant women is the hardest next to infant. Life just sucks.