Didn't Take Long...

For that shit to fall apart.

Our bm is a scammer.

Her mom called the agency and told them she m/c. Our agency, which rocks, told C (the bm) that she has to go in and get checked by the dr and bring in sonogram pics before they would pay another dime of her living expenses.

Which she did. Which said today's date and that she was 10w5d.

Except she is supposedly 22 weeks.

Not sure whose sonogram that was, or where she got it, or maybe she lost the first baby and got pg again but it's no longer our problem as we disrupted the match.

Again.

Now I understand why people get fatigued and decide to live child free. That has got to be better than this. I truly, truly, cannot stand another minute of this. I am at a total loss what to do right now.

Perhaps this blog will become about my cat. Though of course she has feline leukemia so will probably also die soon.

It's Halloween, and I got a rock.

Good and bad news

Bad news: I officially had some kind of physical and mental breakdown last week which resulted in really bad physical problems and an anxiety attack like never before that lasted 5 days. Five days of pounding head, horrible fear and anxiety and a deep sense of loss and grief is too much. I called my therapist and asked for the name of a psychiatrist so I can get on meds. I guess 3 miscarriages in 9 months would do anyone in, but for some reason I thought I was stronger than that. Everyone telling me how brave I was sort of weirdly put pressure on me not to recognize the dangerous place I was going and it all came down around me.

Bad news: We got our test results back. DPR was a girl. A poor girl that will never be born. I was so upset. We had not anthropomorphized the fetus but hearing it was a gender really hit me hard. In addition it was totally chromisomally normal, which sounds like good news but really isnt, as that means they don't know why I keep m/c. Fuck. Double fuck.

Good news: We ARE MATCHED! Our baby is due March 3. The paperwork is signed, we talked to her on the phone, and we loved her. She seems very focused and ready - this is her second adoption of a child - and she is 4 months along. J and I are flying to Tampa to meet her over thanksgiving, and then hopefully will be going down in March to pick up our kid!!!! Of course she can change her mind or something health wise could happen, but hey, we are as far along as we ever have been. We will find out the gender in a week.

WOW!

Thought I would end on a good note. No name for this baby yet, too soon. And we are too wary to joke anymore, so we will just call it "ours".

Life's little lessons are cool but still sort of suck when it's you

My attitude towards a lot of things has changed.

First, I feel like maybe while there's no god, maybe there is some reason for all this. I believe we are supposed to learn things on this earth (perhaps this world view is colored by having, oh, I don't know, TWO PROFESSORS for parents?) and I am getting a PhD in Things I Don't Do Well.

Potentially I am supposed to learn patience. I am so impatient I have told complete strangers to, and I quote, "fucking move your ass" on the street. Then there was that one who told me to kiss her ass and I apologized, having evidently mistaken a true New Yorker for a tourist. My bad. I was the only person in Oregon who ever used their horn, ever, and got in trouble in 11th grade for flipping off the Assistant Superintendent of Schools for cutting me off and then driving like the old, old man he was. True story. I don't give people a break and I snap when they don't meet my expectations RIGHT THEN. I once cried in McDonalds because I didn't get the Filet O Fish I wanted RIGHT THEN. Remember that? RIGHT NOW has been my mantra since before I had a mantra and just drooled a lot. But I wanted my blankie RIGHT THEN.

I am also one who tries to control everything. My food intake, my surroundings, my husband (when he lets me, which is never enough of the time) and my life. I am in control of my job, my home, and my commute. I am so far out of control of my body right now I may as well be that dude in InnerSpace who has Dennis Quaid driving around in his bloodstream in that little spaceship. I am excreting things out of every orifice. I can't eat without it coming out, sometimes almost fully whole (ever shit out a whole cashew? Really?) in a mess a few hours later. My migraines are so extreme lately that I had to take a rest, a la my 2 year old nephew, at my father in law's birthday party. I am tired, sore, shaky, emotional and crampy. Every day is some new symptom or physical manifestation of my angst either emotional or D&C related.

In a nutshell, I am a mess.

But, I have realized, sort of accepted, and owned that i am totally out of control. I can't make my body hold a pregnancy. I can't even make my body hold down spaghetti. I can't make other people stop getting pg and I can't control when a birthmother picks us. And when she does, I can't control what she puts in HER mouth and when she sees the doctor and even if she goes through with it.

So, I say "things will work out" or "we shall see" a lot more. And it is actually ok.

I am also willing to see how this whole thing turns out. I have a sense of calm, and have through this entire last mindfuck pregnancy, that things are unfolding. I am not in a rush and am happy to just sit, sometimes for quite awhile, and relax. I like watching people lately and have even quashed my desire to punch all pg ladies in the ovaries. My commute doesn't bother me and when someone keeps me waiting at work I merely find other things to do.

Maybe I am learning. And gaining some patience.

Two skills that I have HEARD, from experts, might make raising a kid a bit easier.

Huh. Imagine that.

It's better than cancer

My therapist thinks I am clinically depressed.

Really? No shit. Who wouldn't be?

How it is playing out is that I see the world very monochromatically. I am tired all the time, and things that usually give me joy don't. At least not right now. I don't eat much and want to sleep all the time but have a hard time getting to sleep. My body feels like an enemy and any leftover pg symptoms are so, so harsh.

But you know what? I don't have some nasty disease or anything, so maybe I should stop complaining. And I will.

And another thing...

If I did believe in any signs or such - I would really be fucked.

I would think that maybe we aren't supposed to have children.

How else do you make sense of this?

I refuse to believe that.

There is some comfort, then, in chaos.

Phew.

Also, just in case you never get to experience this, just so you know, cramping after a D & C feels like someone has literally turned your uterus to concrete and then drove over it with a truck that has spikes on it. I.Must.Take.A.Motrin.

And on top of it I have some stomach bug that causes me to have major tummy issues. I had to run out of a meeting with the CEO of my gd company to poo.

I am officially the universe's whippin boy today.

Infertility and Existentialism

I think people who have seriously shitty things happen to them, like, say, three miscarriages and two disrupted adoption matches in less than one calendar year, tend to do one of two things:

1. Decide that forces bigger than them (god, fate, the feds) know what they are doing and while we, as mere humans, dont, that doesn't mean there isn't a grand plan and we just, as mere humans, take a long time to figure out that plan. But oh yes, sista, there's a plan.

2. Decide that chaos theory rules, that there is no meaning or reasons or anything in the universe, everything is up for grabs, there is no karma or meaning or god or anything driving this bus.

Guess which one I fall into?

To feel as though there is no meaning, and that all attemps to pull together some form of reasoning for all this shit happening is wasted energy, is both terrifying and strangely freeing. I don't have to look for interrelated actions. Karma means nothing. Nothing I do matters, really. So what the hell. Eat sugar. Don't exercise. Walk in front of buses. Ok, not that. I still believe ins science, and two immovable objects will cause problems.

All I mean is that I can feel free to go live with my adoption profile, and hope that some bm and bf pick me and that they stick with the plan and maybe I will get to come home with a baby sometime before I die - cause it's totally random. Nothing I do can really affect it, no amount of praying or justifying or handing homeless people a dollar will impact it. There is no meaning and no reason anymore - just carbon molecules who make decisions based on the facts as we know them that may change or may not change.

When we got pg with DPR, I thought "OH!!! So the reason we lost 3 ivf babies (remember the first one was two) is cause i was supposed to do this THIS way! Well thank god the universe had a plan for me, and now I get it". Until the giant fuck you of the 3rd m/c. Now i don't get it again, am tired of trying to get it, and feel stupid for even thinking I could get ANYTHING.

I am 1/2 annoyed and 1/2 jealous of people who believe. 1/2 annoyed becaues it just takes a good look around to see nothing is really in charge. Fate doesn't exist and "things work out like they are supposed to" just doesn't even make sense. Really? I am supposed to have three ghost children running around our house? Really? Great! Wow, fate is cool. And WHY did that happen again? Oh yes. The answer: we don't know. Right.

1/2 jealous because to believe someone is in charge, that there is a reason for all this, that this is part of some big plan that will be revealed to you, must be very comforting. I don't have that level of comfort. I am comfortless. But i feel like for me, to see things any other way is not only rather ridiculous but also dangerous. To try to figure out why my uterus continually rejects children is best left for the RE and science. Do I think he will get an answer? No. I think there is a reason but I am one of the .01% of women who truly, no shit, no kidding, can't have children. And medical science, today in 2007, doesn't know enough to change that. Maybe if i were bleeding in 2700, we would get this figured out. But not today.

And that is a truth I can understand.

I have many friends who believe various and sundry things that fall under #1. I am thrilled to have them as friends, and do envy them their security and comfort. However to use a Matrix analogy, I took the red pill and can't seem to fit myself back in that world. I think I will get used to being here, and will find my way in a place where nothing makes sense and shit, as they say, just happens. Today though it does feel a bit cold and scary.

This goes much deeper than atheism. This goes as deep as giving up a primary belief system I have had since a child. I talked to god then. I believed that I would be rewarded for good and punished for bad.

Wow. That didn't happen, now, did it?

Surgery and Journey

Had my d&c. Wouldn't recommend it but it wasn't awful- the worst part was when I had to go into the OR and get up on the table - it is like a million hands are pulling at you - putting in the IV, putting on the oxygen mask, checking vitals - etc. It was a real surgery, I was surprised. I thought it was like the IVF retreival but it was serious shit. I was at the hospital for 5 hours.

I did sit by the woman I mentioned in my blog yesterday - she made me teary with her sad face. Then her ADORABLE 3 year oldcame bounding in (who knew?) and I decided enough empathy for her - she has a fucking kid. Then I cried for myself. Cause I don't.

After surgery I woke up when J came into the recovery room. I don't remember it but supposedly I yelled out my social security number as some nurse somewhere in NYC had asked him for it. Always helpful, even when drugged. And now identity theft is on my list of things to be worried about. I don't remember it at all.

The saddest part of the day was walking to the hospital. I decided to walk from Port Authority as it is beautiful out and I love walking in the city. As I was coming up 9th Avenue, listening to Journey, this song called "Lights" came on and I was reminded of my dear college friend L who lives in Long Beach. The song always reminds me of her cause she loves San Fran and that is what the song is about. I started to get very teary as I miss her so much, but also miss the days when we were all living together in college; carefree doesn't even describe it. It was perfect.

I started wondering how things got so fucked up. If someone had told me I would've had so much trouble starting a family; IVF, PCOS, MTHFR, 3 miscarriages, etc, I would've told them to forget it. I am so glad I didn't know then what I knew now; I am not sure I would've had the strength. I still wonder if i do.

Dr S came out prior to the surgery to talk to us and said that our blood tests had gotten mixed up and that my test showed I was not pregnant. We had a good, ironic, semi-painful laugh over that. He also asked us about donor eggs or donor embryos but we all decided (all three of us) that it was not the right day to talk about that.

I did ask if he thought while in there he should just tie my tubes to prevent future miscarriages (oh wait I mean pregnancies) but he said no - I thought it might be irresponsible to get pg again but he said there is no reason to prevent. We don't have to worry about that for awhile anyway.

So we are 100% focused on adoption now. We are both excited, mentally ready, and fully engaged. Our profile will be live next week and we embrace what's next. This was a detour, albeit a nice, lovely one, but we are back on track.

Pulling Into the Station and Taking a Rest

The roller coaster is over. Not in a good way, but it is over.

First, the reason we had gotten bad news on our beta is that Dread Pirate had a Buttercup. Yes, we had a twin in there. We didn't know it, Dr S didn't know, and we didn't find out til at the "yes we thought that it was dead" ultrasound last week we actually, for the first time in our lives, heard the heartbeat of our fetus. And saw the second, deflated sac. What a miracle. THat one survived.

Fast forward a week. I am getting ready to jump into the shower before flying to Chicago for work. I pee, then wipe - and voila, blood. J is already at work so I calmly call him. We agree I should call Dr S in case I shouldn't travel. I do. He doesn't call back.

I calmly (I have been so fucking CALM lately) get dressed, cancel my car service, ask J to find a later flight for me, and board a bus for the city. 45 minutes later J and I are in Dr S's office. After a coffee break at Starbucks we head back, an hour later, and see Dr K, who has the bedside manner of a Nazi. What an ass. Anyway he immediately hears the beautiful heartbeat, now at 135 bpm, and says that I have a subchorionic hemmorhage, or tear around the placenta/sac. He shows us (like we can read those things) that the sac is surrounded by blood, and while the baby is fine, I am potentially not due to the blood thinners I am on. No one seems to know what causes these, tho a vanishing twin Buttercup can cause it.

He mentions that my already sky-high m/c risk is now higher (how high the moon?) and that I need to go on bedrest til Thursday, when we have a regularly scheduled appt with Dr S and his u/s wand.

I cancel my business trip and head home. To sit. And work from home. For three days. I sleep, I eat, I pee, I work, and I google subchorionic hemmorhage until I have a PhD in phlebotomy. So far all the sites have good news. Nothing to worry about. I will carry to term. Tis just a flesh wound.

Quick aside - for those of you who know me. you know bedrest is akin to doing math for me. I hate it. But this time it was nice. I was calm, quiet (no music, no TV) and relaxed. I sat up on the couch,working, sleeping, googling. No muss, no fuss. I think I was relaxing!

Fast forward to Thursday. I had been feeling major pressure on my cervix, like my insides were going to burst out in a "here's Johnny! - The Shining" way. Other than that no more blood. Tons of symptoms, feeling crappy, sleeping 12 hours a night. Life is good.

We wait for a long time in the cold exam room and Dr S finally comes in. He puts the wand in, J watching over his shoulder. He waits and waits and finally i say "just say something". He says he will when he has something to say.

Finally he speaks.

No heartbeat.

We lost it.

Who knows what happened. Was it the hemmorage? A genetic abnormality? Did the lovenox not work?

Whatever the reason that was m/c #3 and we are packing it up.

I am going into surgery tomorrow to become unpregnant and we are getting genetic testing to see what the holy fuck is going on. Not that is really matters because for now this uterus is closed. You don't have to hit me over the head more than 3 times before I stop trying. I am strong, I am invincible, but I ain't an asshole. Obviously I am not meant to have children. So I will stop trying, at least for now. And if we ever stop preventing, I will not go to the doctor every week and I won't tell anyone and for god's SAKE I will continue to harden my heart. If it can get any harder. Look at how glib I am being now. But deep down I don't feel glib at all. I feel empty.

I was fine. I cried a bit with J, and got teary when talking to Dr S about my surgery. I told him we expected it and weren't surprised, tho we were hopeful. I asked what caused it and heard the beautiful words "Who knows". JEsus why do we pay you people????? Figure it out! We can put a man on the moon but not keep a baby in my uterus?

I really lost it at the hospital, alone, later, getting pre-D and C blood drawn. Michael Moore really knows his shit cause I was shuttled from one room to the next, as they were moving offices. Finally I get in a small cubie with a woman who is Fantasticking her chairs. She tries to log in, can't, tries again, and walks off. Never talks to me. I hear her complaining to her cubie neighbor that she is NOT going to switch offices cause she already CLEANED her desk.

I burst into tears and said to the next woman who walked by "for christ's sake I just had a miscarriage can someone please help me?". Man can those hospital workers move quickly when need be. I was in and out in two minutes. No one likes to hear those words.

The saddest part was right as we were getting called to come in to Dr S's exam room I saw another couple come out. I recognized a fellow miscarrier. She was crying, tears streaked her face, he was comforting her and looking miserable and uncomfortable. She had on comfortable clothes and you could just make out the smallest bump. I heard later she was further along than we were (8w3d) so I can't imagine. She probably had started to bond with it and buy baby clothes and look at the Pottery Barn Kids catalog instead of burn it in effigy like I do.

It was all I could do to stop myself from walking over and hugging her, long and hard, and crying with her. And at that point I had no idea we had lost it. I just knew they had, and I knew how it felt. J told me to stop staring but I wasn't staring - I was trying to will her my empathy across the room. I wonder if she felt it.

I also saw another couple I had seen in there before getting treatment, with that "we're newly pregnant and isn't the world beautiful?" look. Like on their second or third ultrasound before the fear kicks in. I wanted to get up and smack her in the fucking ovaries and tell her to harden her heart! Take it down a notch! Stop beaming - it may be gone already! You will end up curled in a ball, crying!! But I didn't. She will find out on her own, I fear.

A quick request

Please send good thoughts to my uterus. It needs it. Thanks.