March 27, 2012 – The Procedure

I am sorry for the delay in updating everyone on how everything is going, but it has been a rough couple of weeks.  I finally feel like I have the energy to sit up long enough to write something, so here it goes!

I was scheduled for a D&C last Wednesday at noon.  Doc managed to get the day off.  I am really glad he was there with me because I don’t know how I would have managed the day without him.  He was sick, but tried to rally for me.  The fact that Doc was sick for the second time this year should give you a clue as to how stressful this has been.  Doc gets sick once in a blue moon, I can’t ever remember a time when he was sick twice in the same year! 

Wednesday came and we arrived at the surgical center in the hospital for check in at 10.  This was an area of the hospital Doc wasn’t familiar with and it was by far the nicest surgical center I have ever seen in a hospital.  They assigned me a number and updated a board with my procedure so Doc could watch how things were progressing, kind of like watching the flight boards at the airport, and also gave him a pager so they could contact him when the doctor was ready to meet with him after my procedure.  Then they put us in a private room for all my prep. 

Blood draws, IV, and all the fun that comes before any procedure.  Doc and I watched TV, checked out LOL cats on line, and tried to make the best of it.  When my pre-op nurse informed us that my doctor had only scheduled one procedure for the day, we were surprised.  It turned out that his schedule was full on Tuesday, his normal surgical day, and he didn’t want to make me wait another week for my procedure, so he scheduled me on his on call day.  When you live with a doctor, you know how amazing it is that he would give up part of his afternoon before going on call for 2 nights in OB.  It means he was giving up sleep, time with family, or free time just so that I wouldn’t have to wait another week.  It was kindness beyond measure. 

When my Dr arrived he came with a student; it is a teaching hospital after all.  The student was a 3^rd year medical student who had studied pediatrics under my Doc just recently, so a little awkward.  I opted to allow her to observe the procedure so that she could learn more about D&Cs.  Many schools (like my husband’s) have stopped teaching the procedure because they don’t want to seem abortion friendly, so this may have been her only chance to see one.  I know Doc never saw one while he was in school and seeing how important the procedure became to us this week that is a travesty. 

My doctor decided to perform only a portion of the D&C.  We wanted to have the cervix dilated to remove enough tissue for testing and to also start my body’s natural process without introducing a lot of additional scar tissue into my body.  The major risk of the D&C is scarring which can hinder future pregnancy.  I love that my doctor had thought this through and helped us balance our emotional and physical needs during a rough time. 

For the actual procedure I was under general anesthetic, so I remember going into the OR, waving hello to the surgery tech, asking my anesthesiologist to make me forget the day, made a joke that they are perverts because my gown had a pocket which opened directly to my breast, told them to play some good music, tasted something funny, and woke up in recovery.  If you are going to have a bad day, that is how they should all go. 

Recovery turned out to be the longest part of my day and didn’t go quite as planned.  I woke up and must have said something about my doctor, because the nurse said he was right there.  As I woke up my doctor was holding my hand in recovery and we talked about making our next attempt a bit more successful and hoping he would be delivering a baby for us soon.  I have had several surgeries in my lifetime, but I have never had a doctor holding my hand as I recover.  I feel really blessed to have such an amazing physician helping us through this journey. 

Soon after waking up I began having trouble breathing.  One thing asthma has taught me is to notice when breathing is becoming a problem.  The trouble with this is that it means I notice before my O2 stats drop so that I can correct the problem before I am in danger, but at a hospital you aren’t in danger until your O2 drops.  So I calmly tell my nurse that I am having trouble breathing.  This must be something people in recovery say a lot, because she just told me I was fine and checked my O2 stats.  My airway went from feeling like I was breathing through a garden hose to a drinking straw down to a swizzle stick.  I again told her I couldn’t breathe.  She checked my stats, I was fine.  Finally I stopped being able to move air and form words and could only move my lips and cry.  I struggled to sit up in bed, grabbed my nurse’s scrub edge, and mouthed that I couldn’t breathe.  She ran to get the anesthesiologist and they started injecting things into my IV.  Slowly I could breathe again, but it was through a swizzle stick and I was making a horrible sound as I tried to breathe.  They said it was a laryngospasm, basically my vocal cords clamped down and wouldn’t allow air to move.  It sucked and scared the crap out of me.  My O2 stats finally dropped and then the computer said my O2 monitor was faulty… after the crises had passed. 

I apologized to my nurse for grabbing her scrubs, and she let me know it was okay and that she understood I was scared because I couldn’t breathe.  I will never understand why people treat their nurses and doctors poorly while in the hospital.  It is like yelling at your waitress and then not expecting to eat her spit with your dinner.  These people worked hard to make sure I was okay and well cared for on a really bad day of my life, I am thankful they were there and so kind.  These were truly the best nurses I have ever had caring for me (with the exception of my mom of course).  They treated me with kindness and compassion.  When they checked me for bleeding they allowed me to retain my dignity as they did so.  Really they were excellent. 

After several hours in recovery we were finally allowed to leave.  My post-op stage 2 nurse walked me to the car and wished us good luck on starting a family.  She was very kind.  For the next 2 days the majority of my complaints were neck and chest related.  My neck was very swollen and painful, so much so that even the muscles in my face hurt and felt pulled on.

This weekend is when my body finally figured out we were having a miscarriage.  It has made for a rough and exhausting weekend.  I will spare you guys the gory details.  Needless to say, it is a heck of a lot worse than any period I have ever had.  I slept for 20 hours yesterday.  I only got up to use the bathroom, eat, and wish my dad a happy birthday. 

Doc had to return to work and doesn’t get home until after 8 each day, so I have had to take care of myself.  It has been scary, hard, and lonely, but I really only want him around me, so I keep going it alone.  I know he wishes he could be home more, and I wish he could be home more, but he is needed at work.  We have had an amazing out pouring of support from the hospital.  Offers to bring me treats and walk our dogs.  People have been very kind and I may actually be finally feeling up to seeing people again.  Every day I hope the worst is behind us.  So far I have been wrong, but I’ve been up for 2 hours today and so far so good! J

March 14, 2012 – The Art of Being Grateful

Note: This blog is a bit on the self-indulgent side, but seeing as it is my blog, I’ll allow it. J

Most people don’t know what it is like to have struggled with a long-term goal.  By long term, I mean taking longer than 4 years to complete (note this says most, I am fortunate to know a lot of amazing people who have achieved this task and am not discounting them, but they are in a rare group unto themselves in our country as a whole).  Most people won’t ever know what it is like to work at the same goal, everyday, for 10 years.  They won’t know what it is like to sacrifice and struggle for 10 years in the hopes of attaining 1 goal.  Most people won’t know what it is like to do these things for themselves, much less to have done them for someone else’s goal.  I do.  From the moment Doc decided to become Doc, it took sacrifices on both our parts.  It took both of us to achieve this goal.  It took both of us working, saving, struggling, and borrowing nearly 1 million dollars (payoff amount, not actually the amount borrowed) over 10 years to obtain this single goal.  And we still aren’t done.  So, what does this have to do with being grateful and our current situation?  It is the story of how I learned to be truly grateful, for every small gift I have been given in this lifetime, and how I will survive the loss of our second child. 

About 4 years into the sacrificing and struggling I began to feel exhausted.  Feeling like I was working so hard, every day, and not seeing any benefit from my work made me sad, angry, and bitter and every day brought more work and still no benefit.  Every day was filled with crummy chores and tasks to accomplish: pay bills (with no money), study for classes, go to work, do research… It felt like it was never going to end, and to be fair the end wasn’t anywhere in site.  Then Doc got into medical school, and suddenly we needed to move.  I left the graduate program I was in, which really was for the best, as it was making me miserable, and I had to start a new graduate program which was hopefully going to be a better fit for me.  However, the problem was it was more than an hour away from the medical school Doc was attending.  That was problem 1.  Problem 2 was that it wasn’t a PhD program, so I knew I was sacrificing my own goal for that of my husband’s.  (Actually, I didn’t learn that until later.  I was still young enough that I thought I would have plenty of energy and drive when Doc was done and I would complete my PhD at that time.  Dumb.)  The 3rd problem was figuring out how to not give up on all of my personal goals and still manage to support us for the next four years.  Any money Doc earned during medical school would be taken directly out of his student aid from the school, so if he worked it wouldn’t really benefit us.  I was offered a job through my graduate program, and I took it.  Within a few months of us both starting school it became clear that the additional aid from this job wasn’t going to be enough.  The drive to school alone was sucking down a fortune, despite my Civic’s excellent gas mileage.  I got a second job, working holidays, weekends and overnights (eventually I would take on a third job while in grad school, but you get the point).  We were managing, but not comfortably and I was becoming increasingly bitter at my daily struggle.  I was becoming depressed, angry, and just more miserable every day.  I would look around at my classmates and be jealous that none of them had to work.  They had parties on the weekends, I had 16 hour shifts.  They always had the readings done and were always prepared, I felt like I was always playing catch up.  It was an awful place to be and I didn’t want to be there any more.  I wanted to be happy. 

I started to change all of that by reminding myself that life is full of lessons and that in this struggle was a lesson to be learned.  I believe that when life gets really hard, it is usually because I am ignoring whatever lesson God has planned for me and the moment I figure out what it is, things seem to get better.  I knew part of my problem was that I was focusing on what others had, without considering what they were giving up to have it or the struggles they were facing.  I was entirely too focused on other people.  It had to stop. 

I wrote myself a simple reminder on a sticky note and stuck it to my mirror where I would see it every morning and every evening as I brushed my teeth.  It simply said, “Be Grateful”.  I challenged myself to find something to be grateful about every time I looked at it.  It was hard at first, but eventually it became a mantra.  My 16 hour shift turned into an 18 hour shift? “I am grateful to have a job when so many others do not.”  Dog needs a $2,000 hip replacement surgery?  “I am grateful for the joy she gives me every day, and that we have access to such amazing vets to treat her.  I am grateful that I have a credit card with that much space on it.”  Stuck in traffic after already putting in more than 80 hours this week?  “I am grateful to have a car to drive.  I am grateful to have a place to be going home to.  I am grateful that my bladder isn’t full.  I am grateful for the song on the radio and the extra time to jam all by myself.” 

Slowly, this simple act of being grateful changed my life.  It became a way of life.  It made it easy for me to not focus on others and instead for me to give my life the attention it deserved.  It made me see that jealousy is a wasteful and pointless emotion.  You can’t be jealous of one thing in someone’s life; you have to be jealous of everything in their life because the good things don’t come without the bad.  Everyone has struggles to face.  And best of all, it made it impossible for me to feel bitter, angry, and put upon by my situation, because I acknowledged that my situation was a choice I made and I was grateful to have the choice to make. 

So, how did this life lesson and change in perspective gain entry into a blog about infertility?  Every moment since our sonogram I have been finding reasons to be grateful and tonight when I was awoken with cramping, nausea, and a hot flash so bad I had soaked my bed sheets in a room that is 67 degrees and the thoughts started rolling through my head: “I am waiting for my body to expel our second child.  I am a mother with no child.  I am heartbroken.”  At 3am, as I put down a towel to lie on, so that I could try and sleep (because being able to sleep through this would be easier), I found a way to be grateful.  I began listing all of the things I am grateful for to myself:

I am grateful that the sonogram tech was so compassionate.  I am grateful that our doctor struggled to control his emotions as we cried in his office because it made us feel like a team.  I am grateful that Doc was there with me.  I am grateful that he has been within arms reach for 2 whole days.  I am grateful that the residency gave him time off to be with me.  I am grateful that they didn’t make getting that time off into a battle between family and career, they just let me win.  I am grateful that my dogs lay on my legs for the past 2 nights as I tried to sleep, just so I would know I am not alone.  I am grateful that I have my internist’s cell number so I didn’t have to call the office staff and explain to them what happened.  I am grateful that she cared so much that in the middle of her busy day she cried with me over the loss.  I am grateful for the amazing outpouring of support that our friends and family have provided.  I am grateful that we were not further along and that our child did not suffer.  I am grateful for 2 amazing pregnant months, I know it is more than some get.  I am grateful that I have such an amazing husband.  I am grateful I am not alone.  I am grateful that I know what it feels like to be a mother and that Doc knows what it feels like to be a father.  I am grateful for our amazing medical team.  I am grateful for the addition of another member to that team. I am grateful that I have better medical care than Oprah and that our child will have better medical care than Paris Hilton.  I am grateful for the love I feel for others and coming from others.  I am grateful that I started this blog so I have a place to put this all down and get it out of my head…

And finally, the thing that shot me out of bed to write this down? I am grateful for the 10 year, still on going, struggle that we have had, because without it I wouldn’t know how to be grateful and loosing our second child would have destroyed me.  Does this mean I am not sad?  No.  Does it mean I am done grieving?  No.  It just means that I know each day I will find a new reason to be grateful.  I know we will lock hands and keep putting one foot in front of the other until we are able to gain some perspective on the situation.  At least that is how I feel tonight, and I am grateful for the relief from the sadness. 

March 12, 2012 – The very bad day that would not end.

I don’t really know where to start.  This is by far the hardest entry I have had to write this far.  I will start with the facts, because it may be the only way I get through it.

After our second round of Clomid we were successful at conceiving.  We decided to keep it quiet, only telling a few close friends, family, and a few key people at the hospital.  We were blissfully happy with the news and proceeded to make room in our lives for an addition, which would arrive just a couple of weeks before our 11^th wedding anniversary.  The timing was perfect, we couldn’t have been happier.  Our first sonogram was scheduled for 9 weeks into the pregnancy.  We were nervous, but excited and ready to meet the newest member of our family.  The appointment didn’t go as we had hoped. 

As the tech zoomed in on our little Peanut it was obvious something was wrong.  Doc and I both knew it before she told us.  We could see on the screen a perfectly formed, but perfectly still fetus, with no heartbeat.  The image is burned into my head and I would give just about anything to unsee it.  As I realized what I was seeing, my eyes went to Doc.  We were locked together when she told us the news.  His gaze never wavered, and it gave me the strength to endure the rest of the exam.  She completed measurements and whatever else she was doing and left us alone for a minute.  When she returned, she had a new room for us to wait in.  Doc and I cried and held each other as we waited for our doctor. 

I am very thankful to have scheduled this appointment with the specialist who has been with us through this journey.  I sat on the exam table, minus my shoes because they just stopped seeming important, and Doc stood next to me holding my hand.  We continued to cry as our doctor explained to us what he thought had happened and what our options were from here.  Because our fetus was so well formed, the problem was most likely a chromosomal abnormality.  The only way to determine that would be to have a D&C and have the tissue sent off for testing.  Because D&Cs come with additional scar tissue and increased risks of infections, we have decided to try and allow my body to pass the tissue naturally.  We have had what is called an incomplete miscarriage, as soon as my body catches up with the news it will attempt to correct the problem.  If my body hasn’t figured it out by Friday, I will have a D&C and we will send off the tissue sample.  Once this process is complete, my doctor is setting us up with a subspecialist to work with.  This new doctor, a Perinatologist, will be a part of our team as we move forward in trying to start our family.  Our care will be managed as high risk when we get pregnant again because we have had 2 miscarriages with no successful pregnancies between.  My doctor said that we will be cleared to restart Clomid and trying as soon as we feel emotionally ready.  With tears in his eyes, he apologized to us for our loss, but let us know he was up for the fight as soon as we were.  We told him we were ready to continue.  He said he would set everything up for us and we just needed to call him by Friday to let us know if we had completed the miscarriage. 

Doc and I spent the day together, just as we are today.  I know we have a lot of family and friends that would like to be here with us and talk with us about what is going on, but we just can’t.  Not because we don’t love everyone, but because when we are hurting we turn to each other.  When the pain is so deep that it makes the simple act of breathing difficult, we hold each other until it eases. 

March 04, 2012 – Doctors Everywhere

I feel like I am making the rounds through my doctors again.  I saw my internist last week for treatment of a sinus infection.  Once I was there she also realized I needed to increase my thyroid med.  I haven’t slept through the night in 2 months and she said it was because of my thyroid being off again.  Apparently, an increase in hormone levels changes all kinds of things in our bodies.  It seems that my thyroid problem is going to be a never ending balancing act.  I had thought the lack of sleep was a stress response, or at least in part because of the sinus infection, but I have been on the increase for a few days now and I am sleeping a lot more soundly.  I will have to remember that sleep disturbances seem to be related to that problem. 

I have another meeting with my OB/GYN next Monday and am looking forward to it.  We are hoping he will have some good news for us.  Doc is working in the NICU this month, so it is very difficult for him to get time off but he explained the situation to his supervisor and they agreed he would be better off at the appointment in the morning and at work in the afternoon.  His supervisor’s exact words were, “go take care of your family.”  I sincerely love this program and feel like they have been such a support for us.  Pediatric programs in general are considered to be the most family friendly of all residency programs, but ours takes it a notch above and really supports and encourages the residents to be active in their lives outside of the hospital.  That is a unique blessing!  I will let everyone know how the appointment goes! J