IVF and a Finish Line

Hi folks!

On my last post, I spoke about wether or not laparoscopy was something I felt I wanted. Before I jumped into making this decision, we decided to make an appointment with a Fertility Clinic.

This might be a longer post with a few dry details. For sure. Definitely Dry... I just re read it.

Let's talk consult:

Upon arrival, I was nervous and wondering if we fit that "type". You know, the IVF type. Sharp, successful, smart, classy, kinda like New Yorky?  In the waiting area sat two beautiful women in a love seat next to a fireplace. They were speaking with accents and seemed very at ease and in tune. Both were talking about yoga and how their class had gone that day, dressed immaculately. In my head I'm thinking, no way. This is crazy. I'm not fit enough! I don't yoga! We can't afford this! This isn't me... And then we were called to the back.

We spoke with a woman named Elaine. Elaine has become a source of comfort for me. I do not envy her job. She's the nurse on call. She's been there every time I'm in. She has been consistent and flustered and I love that her hair is always a little messy.

After Elaine took a few notes, Srey and I sat staring at each other. Both of us thinking, did we say everything we needed to? Did we miss anything? Are we supposed to be making a case for ourselves? Should we have gotten a referral?

After few minutes, the Doctor stepped in. He was very straightforward. We spoke about the miscarriage, of course. Of course, I cried. We spoke about my medical history. Nothing to see here. Unfortunately, we never had any answers as to what happened. Was it the infection that caused the miscarriage? Was it a genetic defect? He seemed so off put..... almost offended by our misfortune and the care we received at the hospital. This is why I keep telling everyone to be your own health advocate. So many times we should have spoken up and asked more questions. We don't have answers. He was alarmed that no one had tried to figure this out. Comparatively, this should have raised as many red flags as a woman with a history of multiple losses. He told me he wanted to thread a needle and by that he meant run a battery of tests and submit me for another procedure before we try to get pregnant.  He wants to see what he can do to prevent another miscarriage.

Oh my god, that makes sense. Why are we trying so hard to get pregnant without trying to figure out what happened first? Are we lucky that we didn't get pregnant? Would that have happened to us again?

He was able to see the results of my hsg. My tubes are indeed blocked. No question. IVF is the only way to move forward. Why get surgery when you can bypass fallopian tubes altogether? That's what I've been saying all along!!

I couldn't believe it! We are that "type". We are very fortunate. I went with my instinct and decided to move forward with the clinic.

Srey and I immediately gave blood and I was scheduled for a hysteroscopy the following Wednesday.

Now, a hysteroscopy is another surgical procedure in which a small lighted telescope is inserted into the uterus and from there they can diagnose or treat uterine abnormalities. Whilst under anesthesia, this was performed along with the scraping of my uterine lining and a biopsy was taken. Ugh. Utterly horrifying. For the love of god, do not google any of this before you go in.

I was terrified. On a scale of 1-10, I was an 11. I thought up until that last second, I have a chance to back out. Just back out. I had been experiencing panic attacks. Real, true to the truest nature of panic attacks. The worst, but I followed through. I think that the panic attack was worse than the actual procedure. I even remember waking up from a very pleasant dream. All in all, it took about twenty minutes and we only used a small dose of anesthesia. Going under is one of my biggest fears, so when I woke up, I was quite proud of myself and babbling thank you's to everyone in the room like I had won an award.

We went in for our final consultation the following week.

Srey is of course the most perfect, handsome being on the planet. He's fine. My biopsy came back normal. My uterus is healthy. My blood work has shown a possible ANA. What's that? I'm going to be honest. I still am not 100% certain and I'm not looking into it now. I can't put that on my plate. I have tested negative for autoimmune disorders thus far. Still, nothing to show a cause for alarm or a definitive answer.

We discussed moving forward with IVF. We have also discussed the need for genetic testing of the eggs. Even though it seems excessive, at this point, anything we can do to prevent another miscarriage is a priority. This is where the majority of our costs will be incurred.

Let's talk medicine.

If you find yourself looking into IVF, let me be the first one to tell you this... Yeah, it seems difficult and expensive. It is. It's not impossible though.

I was reading that most patients can look at spending anywhere from $3,000- $6,000 on your injections. This is a cost that we were expecting. Fortunately, our insurance covers, well, a giant chunk of this. Also, look into your insurance. A lot of companies are now offering to pay a portion of IVF treatment. For us, it's up to $10,000. The total IVF treatment costing around $17,000 on average for most people. Still, there are ways to save, take loans or prepare with insurance coverage. Expensive, not impossible.

Another side note, for a lot of people adoption is not always an option. Srey and I for example. There are a lot of stipulations and in cases of adoptions within the states, it can still be quite costly and the birth parents can choose, quite discriminately, a couple that fits their needs. For instance, non biracial. Chosen religion, Christianity. Yearly visitations. Pregnancy and living expenses. It all just seemed way out of reach for us. I'm an advocate for adoption and we are still looking into ways we could potentially make this work, but for now.....

Back to medicine.

Srey is injecting me with medication. We are putting this on youtube. I swear a little and it's embarrassing. It wasn't so bad at first. It was only one shot. I was having panic attacks and for a minute I was having fake side effects.... I mean, totally faking myself out. I'm ridiculous. Today and from here on out, we are injecting three times a day. The new shots, are a bit more painful and I have a stomach full of bruises, but it's still... actually not that bad... I'm cringing a little thinking about it though.

Yesterday, knowing that we were upping our doses and that I had a nasty headache from the meds, Srey brought me home some candy, some tylenol and prepped the needles. He's started saying sorry, sorry, sorry as he inserted the needle. I love him.

Today is Friday. I go in Monday for my third ultrasound to measure my follicles. Those are the lil guys that hold my eggs. This should be my final ultrasound before the egg retrieval.

I'm a plethora of emotion. It's like walking along razor wire. I have so many what ifs in my head. I can't tell if it's from anxiety or if I should actually be worried. I didn't have as many follicles present as we had hoped for, but the doctor still thinks we look good.

The gist of it is.

The average woman my age will have about 10 eggs retrieved during this procedure. Now cut that in half. The remaining 5 will be genetically viable and fully developed eggs, or oocyte. Now cut that in half... These are the eggs will have hopefully been fertilized. One or two eggs. That's it!

That being said,you know, life keeps going on for other people around you and that's easy to forget when you're going through fertility treatments. I keep having to remind myself. For several days, I've been talking and texting non stop about my injections and this miscarriage for almost a year. I mean it's all I can think about. I'm creating a bubble around myself and a world around my treatment. I have a lot riding on this and I have a great support system, but man, not everything is about me. I mean, how am I not remembering to ask about them, their days, their kiddos? It's important to make sure you are still fostering those relationships with the people you love when you're going through this. I feel bad, maybe it's the hormones. So, for everyone that has been there for us, I more than appreciate you. I'm here for you too. 

Brief pause, I am emotional. It's the injections.  That said, the above paragraph still holds true.

So, to end this blog....

I can finally see the finish line and one way or the other. Srey and I know that we have tried our best and we have each other. As it goes, almost poetically, we'll know how to move forward by the end of the year.

On my next blog entry, we'll discuss my egg retrieval! Wahoo! 

Let me know if you have any questions! Please feel free to share with someone if you think it will help.

Below is a link to my youtube channel!

https://youtu.be/sgVjsROM61w

Dusting Myself Off and Checking Myself In.

Infertility, IVF, OBGYN and a lot of fucking swear words.


Hi there ladies. Hi there Gentlemen. Hi there to All Inclusive and Anyone Reading because this sucks for anyone to go through group.

Last month, we had talked about the results of an HSG my doctor had recommended giving me as our timeline for natural conception, I'm ovulating let's get busy time, seemed to be running into overtime. I was devastated, but with this entire year, our ups and downs.... and downs and downs, I needed to get back up and dust myself off.

My OBGYN had determined that my fallopian tubes had been damaged as a result of the miscarriage I experienced in January. The damage to my tubes was so severe that they are now blocked by scar tissue. There is no way an egg, oocyte, can pass through them. Fuck. What do I do with that information?

I felt as though I had been punched in the gut. My chest was empty. Was it not enough to lose my baby? Now I have to face the fact that I can no longer conceive... My head was spinning and my feet were nowhere to be found. How the fuck is any of this happening to me? Me of all people? I say that, because as I have said before, I have always been extraordinarily average. Right now, it seems as though I keep getting knocked over with these weird circumstances and tiny percentages.

My OBGYN wanted to schedule an immediate surgery known as laparoscopy. I had my reservations and upon swimming in my own head for a few minutes, I decided to acknowledge his plan, do some research on my own and go home to cry about it. I thanked him and excused myself.

I just feel that in this last year, it is up to me to be my own advocate. I need to own my body and I need to do what I feel is in my best interest. I hadn't ruled this procedure out, I did however, decide to look into all of my options.

After melting, rolling around in my carcass, going into blackout mode and then straight into panic mode for the next couple weeks, I decided to start my research.

Laparoscopy.

Laparoscopy is a minimally invasive procedure. You are put under anesthesia, and a laparoscope is inserted and scar tissue is removed. This is a very basic explanation.

For me, As soon as I heard anesthesia and surgery, I started panicking.

From my understanding and my own research ( Please do your own research) I felt as though natural conception, following this procedure was not guaranteed. In fact, depending on where this blockage has taken place, the percentage of success can vary quite drastically. We did not know where this blockage was occurring, just that it was. I was also concerned about healing time. How long are we expected to keep at it until we were sure this surgery had or had not been successful? Through my research, it looked as though the ask on that was 18 months.... 18 more months? I don't know if I can do this dance for 18 more months. I am 36 and I feel as though I need to conceive as quickly as possible.

So, what I think about Laparoscopy.

If I was in my early 30's, absolutely. I would love to have my body feel like it belongs to me again. I would love to conceive naturally. I do not think the wait time is for me. 18 months. This has already been far too long and far too painful. The success rate of natural conception is not fully determined and is not a guarantee that I would not need to seek treatment down the road.

The following Monday, I made an appointment with a fertility clinic.

Srey and I have decided to move forward with IVF. We are going to bypass the tubes, the surgery and the wait. Now is the time. This is going to be our last big hurrah.

I'm scared and nervous. I've conditioned myself to be hopeful, but never too excited.

Next time we chat, I'll talk to you about our consultation, the expected costs, success rate, research and the procedures (hysteroscopy, blood work and genetic testing) it takes to get over your first hurdle.

And with that I bid you peace of mind and heart.  

As always, I check my email. If you need to reach out, please do. Please share this if you feel it might help.

alishawiese@gmail.com

XO

And When Life Decides to Hand You Motherfucking Lemons.

Where were we at?

On my last post I believe that I was discussing goals, anxiety and eluding to another visit with our OBGYN. I have made steps. Progress. Now, let me be clear......

Wait, wait, wait.

Gah, I'm having a hard time starting this post. I'm spinning.

I can't figure out a way to be eloquent or witty. I can't find a way to piece this together thoughtfully. I guess I should just be honest.... and ugly about it.

The last time I wrote, Srey and I had been anticipating a visit with our doctor. Major anticipation.  I made the appointment. We had just hurdled over the six month recommended timeline given to couples at our age trying to conceive naturally. It hasn't happened.

Srey and I have, for the last six months, been timing everything to a t. Im taking my temp. I have a calendar. I have an ovulation test kit. I have been eating healthy and purchasing books. Yoga. Breathing. I've even tried meditation..... Not for me, but I tried. Every month, I was picking up something new. Just to try. And every month... negative. Let me just tell you how quickly the romance can dissipate when the words, I'm ovulating come into play. This is real work. There is nothing sexy about infertility.

Im not going to detail this appointment. Not a lot came from it. Instead, we made another appointment. Slated immediately, he wanted to give me an hsg. Also, as it turns out, he believes I'm suffering from a condition known as PTSD. I can see that..

Now,  HSG is short for Hysterosalpingography. This is an imaging procedure in which your OBGYN examines the cavity of your uterus and fallopian tubes. A dye is injected through a tube into the uterus and liquid should be able to flow through your fallopian tubes.

Mine did not.

Needless to say, this procedure is quite painful but necessary to determine whether your(my) attempts... at conception are viable.

Again, mine are not.

As it turns out, my miscarriage has caused damage to my fallopian tubes and without surgery, I am unable to conceive naturally. It was the infection. The reason they had me stay overnight. The reason my white blood cell count was so high. The reason I was meant to be given antibiotics twice intravenously, but I was not. Now that I have this information... Uh, I don't know. I have this information and it feels like day one again. I feel like I've lost another piece of myself. I'm angry all over again.

The idea that someone could have prevented this absolutely kills me. That perhaps someone can go along unchecked after treating someone so poorly and not be accountable for the consequences of these actions infuriates me. I wish I had known better. People.... if you take anything from this, let it be to question everything. If something does not feel right, if you are in pain, if you're being ignored, if you know that your antibiotics should have been given to you...... if that exam fucking hurts. Say something! Demand attention. Call me if you need to and I'll demand it for you.

I am hurt, but I will be okay. I seem to be on this seesaw of emotions again. Bad/horrible. Sad/okay. Okay/okay. Good/okay. Great/Good. Good/Bad. That's how the seesaw works.

I am currently cycling Chlomid, because why not, and awaiting a consultation with a fertility clinic. Next time we chat, I'll talk about the surgery my OBGYN is advocating for. Details, healing time and everything that it entails. I'll also talk about my fertility consult. I'm not sure what to expect from there, but it should be eye-opening.

I'm not sure what to say now or how to end this. I thought I would be able to give you guys a happy ending or something promising, but no such luck. This is life, I guess. I just have to wait and see.



XOXO.

And Further on Down That Road

Hi friends.

Hmmm. Let's see. Last time we spoke, I had just started my healing process. I had just cut my hair off. I had just started going into our nursery. A lot has taken place since my last post. I loose my place a bit. It's difficult for me to go back and read these. It so heartbreaking. It's weird. I feel so bad for her.. me.

I believe that at one time, I mentioned writing down goals. When I started writing down goals I was desperate. I could no longer live in this pain and fear. I couldn't look at my husband anymore and see my reflection of sadness in his face. I had to do something and to be honest, it may not have been for me. I believe it was partially for him.

I remember cutting my hair off.

I started fervently searching for help. I called the office that we had been visiting for ultrasounds. They refused to see me. The same people who had greeted me so warmly before... They wouldn't help me. I spent the next two weeks searching under every rock for a doctor that was not affiliated with my OBGYN or my ultrasound tech/OBGYN location. This is New York!! How in the world was it so difficult to find another doctor. I heard no after no and the thought of returning to my original obgyn, well, it wasn't an option.

Finally and quite frankly out-of network, I found someone that was willing to see me. I knew that we could never expect answers. I guess I was looking for someone to hear me. Someone that may genuinely care about my body and my mind. Srey and I went in and thinking back, I can still feel my nervous energy. My eyes were wide. I was on the edge of my seat. We talked. He listened. We looked through the many many pages of my medical history. And then he asked me if I was ready....

I knew it was coming, but getting back in that chair, legs up after everything that had happened.... I was shaking. I felt so vulnerable. Ugh, I couldn't breathe. It was scary. It was terrifying,  but it was over quickly and it had to be done.

We found that I have a small uterine fibroid. Nothing that would have affected the pregnancy and nothing that should impact future pregnancies. We were given the all clear.

That day, I called my sister and my mom. I remember talking to them about it and feeling a strange sense of relief. Nothing was wrong with me. I must have been talking a million miles an hour. He has no reason to think this would happen a second time given proper care, bi-weekly measurement of my uterus and progesterone treatment. This was a fluke.

A fluke? That sense of relief didn't last very long.

I was jobless and my apartment was still dark.

Remember those goals I was writing down? I would write down very simple goals and strive to achieve at least one per week. The rest of the time I spent sweating and over analyzing these simple tasks.

1. Tell close friends and family...... I sent a text.
2. Find a new doctor... see above.
3. Take a walk.
4. Go shopping.
5 Try something new.
6. Write stuff down.

My try something new bucket has seemed to become a bottomless bucket of maybe's and why nots. It's a mixed bag and I'm open to ideas for sure.

Things I'm currently pondering.
1. Crossfit
2. Book club
3. Volunteering in some capacity
4. Starting an in-house studio
5. Visiting a psychiatrist

It's important to note, that since forever, I have suffered from some pretty severe panic attacks. These bursts of panic can be debilitating and can have a lingering effect on my psyche and sometimes my body. After our miscarriage, I had been in a constant state of fear and self doubt for the following three to four months. I have moments though. Or at least I'd like to think so.

That being said, my current hobby/title/why not...

Alisha Wiese - Background Actor

It gets me out of the house and puts a little money in my pockets... I'm meeting new people and I'm experiencing something that you could only experience in places like New York. I'm also taking care of myself. Maintaining my appearance, eating better and getting rest... It's so funny because I'm not really the type of person to put myself out there or in front of a camera, but for right now it's really giving me a boost in self confidence and it's a little self indulgent. My guard is coming down and I'm starting to really feel like myself again.

So, on my next blog, I'm going to start talking about next steps. What I mean by that is, we have been trying to conceive for our recommended six months. I have made another appointment, Srey and I have discussed options and we will find a plan of attack.

Cheers.

P.S. If you have any questions, comments or concerns please email me at alishawiese@gmail.com
Also, if you know someone that has gone through this experience and feel this would benefit them please share.

A Work in Progress

A thought about the past past.

You know, upon publishing the last and most painful post, I immediately felt a sense of resolve. I felt lighter, stronger and free from the guilt that was associated with the loss. I was nervous in posting this blog initially because I was worried about the interpretation. I was worried that I might sound ungrateful, err. I was worried that I might sound like a real asshole when it came to up and quitting my job. But, I guess we all see things in different ways and well this was mine... so, I guess I owe it to myself to be honest. After posting this, I went back and thought about my choices... I realize that upon quitting my job... in a rush...I knew that I was emotionally taxed. I was on a rollercoaster. Pregnancy can be scary and the way that I was working.... commuting, communicating and eating had really started to effect my health. I won't go into details, but we did see how my pregnancy was directly affected from this. In short I found myself bleeding.... more than normal. Srey and I knew that this may be the only time I experience a pregnancy, so it was important that I protect myself.  In the end, it really was a culmination of work and life colliding and creating the big bang which catapulted  me into my new life. I had little control. And my new life, that's just beginning so right now I'm lost. I'm quiet and mostly scared, but I'm learning to get along. I know that I'll be able to find my way though. The point is, upon posting the last entry and feeling an immediate release of pain, I actually believe that I saw the hurt physically leave my body, but that the traces of doubt and the insecurities will always keep tugging at the most anxious and heavy handed parts of my brain. I think that's totally normal...., but I do feel better about the past passing in the manner it did.

On to the work in progress.

It's been a tough road with weight gain, depression and impressive amount of alcohol consumption. I had been experiencing a sense of anxiety that was making it hard for me to at times, even leave the house. I felt an insane amount of self doubt and and had been ridiculously self conscious after the miscarriage. When you experience loss, just the idea of releasing some of the sadness/guilt is a major hurdle. This loss is something that may one day be something I only think about a couple of times and others, it may take me back to that fucking day. Normal. But lately, and I really mean this.... I am beginning to see my old self. I mean, my face. I'm starting to recognize myself in the mirror again. I'm coming to terms with the gray hair and the new fine lines. I'm starting to see myself through the layers sadness and self doubt. It's like wiping off a mirror after you've taken a shower... and every time you wipe it, it becomes a little clearer. I guess that's the best way for me to describe it. I'm seeing that my eyes seem, eh... well, older and heavier, but they are still there and every once in a while I see them flicker. I'm seeing my old drive and lust for life. I went dancing. I wore skinny jeans. I'm smiling again.

I  want to end today by talking about the number of women and men that have privately come forward to tell me their stories. I sincerely thank you for your support. I hope you understand how very much you've helped me. I personally know quite a few of these women that have come forward to lend a shoulder and to let me know that I wasn't totally alone. These women... I had no idea. Maybe I was just so into my own life.... I didn't see the hurt. I didn't see the process. I just never even knew. I'm sorry for that.

We need to talk about this more. Women. We are remarkable people.

Next time, well talk about the steps I took to get control over my life again. We'll talk about how I am working to get past my anxieties and self doubt. I do want to leave you with a  little tid bit if you need help now... Write things down. The things you want to do, the doctors you want to see, the food you want to eat, the career choices you want to make. Write them down and start scribbling them out one at a time. For me, it I started with one goal a week. I didn't want to overwhelm myself. I scribbled slowly and then I forced myself to keep going.

Alright, If you need someone to talk to please email me at alishawiese@gmail.com
Feel free to share this with someone if it might help.

Coming Home and Finding the Road to Recovery.

Before I really tell you my story of healing,  let me acknowledge that there is no right way or wrong way to experience grief.  There is no luck. There are no at least's… There are no "try again" answers that you will want or need to hear. No one can tell you to feel better and no one has the right to make you feel like your grief is less than what it is. You will feel everything on your own. There are no easy miscarriages and there are no rule books for grieving or healing. It's your prayer that had been answered. It's the future you had imagined. It's your pain. Most importantly, it's your baby and it's your time to heal. In my case, there was pain and confusion and embarrassment. The inability to tell my loved ones… My heart was broken and this burden, this guilt, this anguish, fear, pain, anger…emptiness, sadness, was mine alone. I didn't want anyone else to experience it. I was awful.

The day after our loss, I came home. I slept. I cried. I cried and I kept crying.. I don’t know, for days? For weeks? I found myself randomly bursting into tears.  My face was swollen and sore.  My curtains were closed. I slept on the air mattress in our living room. I only got up to use the bathroom and that in itself was terrifying.

I remembered sitting and thinking, my god, I couldn’t ask for anything more in this precious life. I had the health of my baby, my husband, my home. Everything was just how I had imagined it. And then suddenly that was gone. My house was dark. I was afraid to be alone. I no longer had my baby.

I avoided the phone calls.

We were four and a half months along. I had just quit my job to dedicate my time to being healthy.  I had started our nursery. It’s beautiful, but for weeks and weeks after our miscarriage, it felt like a beautiful tomb. My body felt so empty. I felt hollow. I felt like I had been betrayed by my body and that was the scariest thing. I couldn’t look in the mirror. I was scared to see the place my baby had been. I was scared to see what was left... or not left. 

Two weeks later… I started searching for answers. I started looking into statistics. I started looking for reasons. I was recommended a group for grieving women… I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to share. I went through random periods where I felt as though maybe it was better that I hurt so bad. Maybe hurting is better and maybe it’s what I deserved. These statistics… These were daunting. They seemed to justify the pain. After the emptiness, the pain just felt better.

Miscarriages… They’re something that we don’t really talk about openly. The problem is that they are all too common and there are rarely any answers. I believe that one in four pregnancies will end in miscarriage. In my case, the percentage is only three. I’m not sure if reading this made mine hurt more for me. I’m not sure if it made the situation feel more dire… I don’t know, but it is daunting. I’ve been average my whole life… Why was I forced to experience this? Statistically, that should not have been me. Right? I felt like someone had made a mistake and the fear of being unable to carry took over for a long time.

There are a lot of tools available. You are really just a google search, a blog, a secret pinterest page away from finding some comfort. In my case, these tools were there for me later… I mean much later… Later because I had to go down further. I had to find a weird and dark side of my personality that I didn’t think was there. I became more anxious. I thought I was dying. I was scared to leave the house or use the phone and … well, that made me happy. It made me happy until it didn’t. I found that one day I cried a little less than the day before. I started showering and putting on a little makeup. I started forcing myself to go outside, even if it was just to let the dog pee. I walked into our nursery without holding my breath. I thought about our baby instead of distancing myself from him. I cut my hair and I started writing.  I went to dinner with my husband and then I realized that I deserved better than this pain. I realized that he also deserved better that this pain. It was time to work through it.

So, I kept doing the research. It was scary. I found a new doctor. I started reading blogs and I found familiar voices. I started sharing with small groups of friends and family. I started talking. In talking, I found that even though statistically I was in the three percent, I had so many women sharing their experiences and offering words of support and care and encouragement and I found that I was less afraid. I also found that we as women feel isolated and ashamed and scared. We do not have to feel this way. We are remarkable beings with immense amounts of compassion for each other. Someone you know has been through this.

I can tell you like so many others, that it will get better. It will. You will feel better. I can tell you this because it’s true, but I can’t make you feel better. It’ll just happen the way it happens for you. One day, you’ll see or hear something that will simultaneously make you happy… and sad. You’ll experience your first bittersweet moment and then your life will start to begin again, my friend.

Just remember, you’re not alone. I know you hurt. It is not your fault.Take your time and when you’re ready, we’re here for you.

So, on the next lil blog, we’ll start with how I stared living my new life.

Below are a few links to explore. They all have great and insightful info if you or someone you know is experiencing loss.

http://www.babble.com/pregnancy/10-things-i-never-heard-of-before-my-2nd-trimester-miscarriage/

http://www.lindseymbell.com/why-its-not-just-a-miscarriage/

http://seeingsunshine.com/2016/02/03/what-i-didnt-know-about-miscarriage-until-i-had-one/

The Day it Happens.

Oh my god. What’s happening?

Now, I’m going to go through a very dry detail of events leading up to our miscarriage. It might be brutal. In trying to be honest, this might be very difficult for some people to read. It’s so important that I’m honest though. I won’t exaggerate and I’ll try not to leave anything out. This is also not a chance for me to wage a war or to right the wrongs, It’s just what happened

It was a Tuesday. The day before, I had some cramping… it’s just cramping. My doctor told me that most likely, it was just the stretching of my tendons.

In thinking about the turn of events, I know now that I was going into labor.

My husband and I were in on Thursday to find out the sex of the baby. We started our initial anatomy scans… Everything looked tip top. Except, it didn’t feel tip top…. I don’t know. I just had this weird bad feeling. The ultrasound technician had a hard time getting him to move around to take al of the scans. Weird, he’s been so active in the past. We were going back in next month for the detailed anatomy. She said they were able to see 97% of what they needed. He looked great… just sleepy. They would get the rest at a later date. He was sucking his thumb…

It was week 18 and I hadn’t felt him move yet…. The quickening. Nothing. That Friday, I went to my regularly scheduled OBGYN appointment. I had the sniffles, but nothing out of the ordinary. I explained my lower back pain. I talked about the rare instances I had experienced an abdominal pain. I was reassured. Always reassured.

There is a very important reason why I’m trying to remember anything and everything that happened within these few days. I need to know what happened. I don’t know what to tell you though, most people, me… we’ll never know.  I’ll never know how or why.

Let’s get back to that Tuesday night. My nightmare. I remember telling my husband and my sister in law about my tendons. It felt like the baby was in my bladder. I decided to try and wiggle him out of that position by doing some very safe yoga stretches. It seemed to help right away. I felt less pressure and I spent the afternoon with my husband feeling very relaxed watching t.v.

The next morning, I woke up. Grabbed myself a morning snack and a small cup of coffee. Regulation sized coffee. I was still fine.

At around 1pm that day, I started to feel the need to use the restroom…. A lot. My pains were back… I started spotting. I decided to call my doctor. I left a message with the desk. I jumped in the shower and did some stretching…. “God, are these pains getting more frequent?” I started looking at the clock. My doctor calls back at 2:30pm. “I’m experiencing abdominal pains. They’re about an hour apart. I’m spotting.” I was asked to come in at 5pm. Upon jumping in the cab at 4pm,I experienced an extremely sharp cramp. I looked at the clock and called my husband. He was on his way. 4:04pm.. Oh my god, I think I’m going into labor. Please let this be a coincidence.  4:08pm. Again. There is a wall of traffic.

I arrived at my OBGYN ten minutes early. I checked in. Several other mothers were squeezed into this timeslot. At least 10 very pregnant ladies sat in this waiting room. It felt very tense. This office closes at 7pm. After over an hour of sitting, I was finally seen.  I thought they asked me to come in at five pm? They sounded concerned over the phone. I reminded the front desk that I was asked to come in. I was in pain. My doctor was out that evening. I was unable to see her. Her associate, owner of this practice and seasoned OBGYN asked me what was wrong. I’m telling you…I know that I explained all of this in detail, both over the phone and in person several times over. I explained the cramping, time between the cramping, the bleeding, lack of movement thus far… All of this. He decided to give me a pelvic exam. 

The pain from this exam was excruciating. I was in tears. It didn’t feel right. My body was on high alert. “Your baby looks fine. Your cervix looks fine. Everything looks fine… Except did you know that you are bleeding.” “Yes, I thought I told you that.” “No.” “Why is my baby upright in this sonogram?” “I’m not sure, but his heart rate is fine. Why don’t you have yourself a proper ultrasound tomorrow? Go home and get some rest.” “What about this pain? It’s now every 3 minutes.” “What pain? Maybe you should just head over to the E.R.”

He asked me why my eyes were red… at that moment I realized in fact, everything that I’ve said, the pain I was in from the cramping and the pelvic exam went right over his head….. His office was closing.

Srey hailed a cab and we headed to the E.R… I couldn’t walk. A gentleman ran towards me with a wheelchair.

The whole time I thinking to myself… It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll get help. This happens to pregnant women, I’m sure of it. My baby is fine.

Oh my god, I’m here. Thank god. Someone can help me.

I was told to fill out my paperwork and wait.

The staff didn’t want the wheelchair up there. They said that they did not want to have to take it back down.  I had to get out of it and find a spot to sit… in the waiting room. No seats. My husband starts asking for help, I’m on the ground. Still no help and I’m in tears. People are staring. Why isn’t anyone helping? I’m starting to get nauseous. My pain is every thirty seconds… Srey is worried. The look on his face. Oh my god. This isn’t right. He kicks past the door again. He was desperate to find me help. He’s begging.  He’s pleading with the nurses who told him to take me out, yet again… I collapse onto the floor breathing heavy. I’m on my hands and knees and I’m crying.  A doctor saw me and pointed to a bed. “Can’t she wait in here?”

I sat. Thankful. The room was small. It was spinning. I told my husband that I didn’t want to worry him, but I was starting to blackout. The pain was constant and it was so intense. I was in and out. I was freezing. My teeth were chattering and then the pain would shoot heat waves through my body and I would start sweating. I started to dry heave. The nurse hands him a garbage can. “Can you at least get her to throw up in here?”

I did and that’s when the doctor comes in…

“Get her into the examination room, now.”

The nurse asked me if I was able to walk, but I told her I couldn’t make it. Unbelievably, she asks me not to lie to her and then repeats the question….

The Doctor seemed to take over at this point. I was wheeled into a room at the end of the hallway and they start undressing me. I couldn’t help them and I remember apologizing. It only took her a second to understand what was going on. She ordered her staff to get me to labor and delivery immediately. I knew. I finally knew. My heart just stopped. I told her that he was fine an hour ago. My OB looked at him. His heart was beating.

They quickly rolled me into another room down the main hallway. I was naked from the waist down and before they could close the door, my water broke.

The things that stick out in your head and the things that just keep reminding you of that day are so random and can be so minor. They hurt. The look on my husbands face… It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Never could I imagine seeing him hurt like that and for some reason, at the time, I thought I had caused him that pain. The nurse that was unaware of the circumstances telling me not to worry, that I was about to meet my baby. I should be excited… And the doctor telling her that I was only 19 weeks… The male nurse or doctor in the room that seemed to be following the main doctor, he looked horrified standing behind her. His mouth was open. Eventually, he would come to my aid and help me push. I went from patient to human. He was no longer a student, but a compassionate human that was doing all he could to help.

It was painful, but worse, I can’t explain the immediate emptiness that I felt. I thought that my trip to the hospital would be painful, yes, but full of joy. I thought we would have our baby. I never imagined holding him and then having to give him away. Never seeing him again. I thought that he would be my baby forever. I had to say hello and goodbye to a perfectly healthy looking baby. He looked like his dad. Did he feel pain?

I stayed overnight. I had an elevated white blood cell count. Cause or effect? We’ll never know, really.

Remember when I was telling you about things that will always remind you of that day? Things that will always bother you? The phrase, You should feel lucky… Yeah, you should feel lucky.. I heard this phrase countless times during my stay in this disgusting place. You should feel lucky because....At least I have a husband that cares. At least IT wasn’t full-term. At least I was healthy. At least I didn’t have to wait too long. At least it happened fast. At least I get to home tomorrow. At fucking least…. I should feel lucky for all of these things. Fucking Bastards. They were just trying to help.

Jesus. This was a hard one to write.

The Middle

We.

Both is us were full-time. My husband works in Manhattan and he’s an ultra creative. Srey. He’s in advertising and for years we thought that after we were married, we’d have a business card stating Mr and Mrs. Pen, Power Couple Extraordanaire. That may still be the case, but we’re definitely allowing for a few fumbles and maybe even some off-roading. He cares, not about my paycheck but my peace of mind and my ability to take risks. 

And then we were PREGNANT!

Srey and I have been planning this pregnancy for yeeeaarrrs. I mean it. We have been together for around 9 years and married for almost 3.

We went from planning on planning….., to planning……, to still planning.

I thought that in my thirties, this would be a more difficult process. As luck would have it and my husband’s firm belief in his efficiency, we were pregnant in a matter of months. After a few false starts. By that I mean, business trips and lack of motivation after long days of commuting and working. We could barely have dinner some nights, let alone, you know.

This is where my writing and mind are going to start processing and catching up. This was as far as I had gotten in my journaling.... if you will. This is where we might take a dip in tone.

Srey and I had started picking out baby names and, oh god, we had just announced the pregnancy at this point. I had planned on bringing everyone through the process. We were so happy. I had been shopping on Amazon, starting baby registries, Pinning the heck out of baby related articles on Pinterest. I was visiting my doctor regularly and everything was looking great, in fact, they stated more than great! My body was handling this pregnancy as well as someone ten years younger.

I was coming into my second trimester when I started to really feel wonderful. I was beaming. People had started offering me their seats on the subway.... and the baby's room. 

We named him Cooper.

I'll add a few pics here to help with the visuals and timeline.

The Beginning.

Well, here I am.

My name is Alisha.

I’m the sum of action, consequence, intermediate spurts of courage and creativity. I suffer from anxiety, at times. A matter of which has made it difficult to expel my utmost potential and throughout time, has also been a source of comfort and excuse. This is unimportant in the scheme of things though, I suppose. I focus on where I am, and with the encouragement from my husband and privacy I desire, I occasionally proceed with said action, courage and creativity.

I’m 35. I’m from a small town in Wyoming, which by my early standards, was actually quite populated. Later in life, I was able to see the fantastical side of this small town and the people that came from it, but that’s another story. Just keep in mind, the grass is always greener.

I’m married. I happen to have found the most adoring, intelligent and empathic of partners. He is highly creative, charismatic, courageous, forward-thinking, well thought, good natured and business minded individual I have met. I guess you’d say that he’s my polar opposite in many ways.

Please don’t take this writing as morose. In actuality, at this moment, I’m quite peaceful. I’m sitting here rendering thoughts and feelings of whimsy. Self- reflection can a bit bumpy. It's probably a bit colorful too. I still enjoy it. I love looking back.

Skip forward to when I quit my job……

I have always been very adamant about expressing myself the way I choose. I, in the past have been creative, a thinker, an individual. I’ve had hobbies and I’ve had opinions. I enjoyed who I was. Good and bad. In the past few years, I’ve grown. I’ve learned how to become a person that valued being part of a team A team of like minded banditos, who were very similar to me, and seemed to be on the outside before as well. This felt great! This felt like I was achieving something of greater purpose and I was doing it with them, I was doing it for them! I gained a lot in that time. I was able to speak to my business with passion and I was able to find people of the same manner  and encourage them to join us. Up and up and up.

In looking for perfecting my business self, I found that I was no longer interested in anything else. Not in my husband, not in travel, not in adventure. I just wanted to do business and I wanted to do it better.

I had quickly let my job take over my life, without realizing it. It was all I was thinking about. And when my job started to feel less than ideal for me…. Well, that was all I had. A job that I was unhappy in and I didn’t understand why. Why when my one focus was not leading to my happiness no matter how hard I tried. I let my personal identity disappear as I transformed into this other person. And when that other person was unhappy, I couldn’t look back and see anything else because it was gone.

Now, this all seems rather mellow dramatic. It's okay. I'm emotional. I just knew that at that moment, this wasn't for me. I understand. In hindsight, there were some very simple things I could have done to insure a separation of work and self and when I decided to quit, that was certainly the most drastic of measures, but that was what I needed.

I understand this may not be the decision everyone would make. I understand that not everyone is afforded the opportunity to make decisions like this. I’m not even sure I can afford to make a decision like this, but this is where I’m at and I’m not looking back

Another outside factor went into play as I decided to so drastically shift my lifestyle... My husband and I became pregnant with our first child. My job just didn't feel right and I just didn't want anything to happen.

I had my first bout of panic inducing morning sickness while stuck on the A train for over an hour. That was the beginning of the end.

Now..... I'm going to jump ahead and back. Let me explain.

I started this blog 3 months ago with the intention of posting shortly after the announcement of our pregnancy. Shortly after, my husband and I experienced a very unexpected loss. It has taken some time, but I've decided to continue with my original thought and intent, because it's just real life.

So, please read. Enjoy. Please feel free to ask me questions.