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Category Archive for Waiting for Shmear

Posted on August 25th, 2005

So after writing my post about the lack of support for women who’ve miscarried, I got to thinking. Maybe some of the friends and family of these women aren’t giving the support because they don’t know how to give the support. They’re so afraid of hurting these poor women’s feelings, that they don’t say anything at all. (At least, I hope that’s the case more often than not, and not just because people think any pregnancy lost in the first 12 weeks “doesn’t count”) So maybe if people knew some of the do’s and don’t’s of supporting women who’ve miscarried, that would help. So here goes my own ass-vice. Keep in mind, this is based off my own experiences and some women may feel differently, but this is a great start.

Offer your ear. Let this woman know that you’re there to listen if she wants to talk about what happened and how she feels.
Offer your shoulder. Give her a hug, pat her hand, her shoulder, let her know through gentle touch that you care about her.
Take her out for coffee. Or ice cream. Or lunch. Offer to get her out of the house. You can talk about what happened or not, but a change of scenery helps heaps.
Send flowers. I know, it’s pretty trite, but it works. It’s a visual reminder that someone is thinking of you. And in this age of telecommunications, having flowers delivered can mean that much more.
Acknowledge her loss. She didn’t just lose an embryo or a fetus, she lost a baby. From the first moment she saw that positive pregnancy test, that was a baby in her uterus and she was planning for it and loving it from day one. Something like, “I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted this baby.”
If you are religious, let her know you’re praying for her and her family. Of course, this is probably only best if she is religious too. A “safe” alternative is to tell her you’re thinking of her. Hearing this always helped me feel a little better.
ETA: Bring her some meals, or at least offer to. A casserole, a ham (I had some wonderful friends bring me a honeybaked ham after Jackson died, how wonderful is that?), a frozen pizza… anything. Just so they have to worry about one less thing for a while.

Don’t’s

Avoid saying, “It was for the best.” It’s never for the best. Yes, chances are with a miscarriage there was something developmentaly wrong with the baby. However, it’s almost like saying it was for the best that the baby had something wrong, or at least that’s how it’ll sound to her.
Don’t say, “You can try again.” Chances are, she’s well aware of this fact. However, especially right after the miscarriage, the last thing she wants to hear about is trying again. At least from anyone else. It has the effect of minimizing the loss, which you definitely don’t want to do.
Don’t ignore what happened. I know this can be tough to do, you are so afraid of making her hurt even more. However, it would hurt more to think that you don’t care or that you don’t consider her loss important. So say or do something, even if its just an “I’m so sorry,” or a quick hug.
No, “It happened for a reason.” Like “It was for the best,” it offers little comfort and makes you come off as insensitive. Even if there was a reason, she doesn’t need to hear it.
Try not to say something like, “Your baby is in heaven now.” If the woman isn’t religious, this could insult her. And if she is, it’s a small comfort when she would far rather have that baby with her.

I hope these lists help. I would like to think that our society will remove this stigma on miscarriage and that someday all women can find the support they so badly need.

Filed under Noteworthy, Sucking a Tail Pipe, Waiting for Shmear |

Posted on August 25th, 2005

Okay, you remember back when I was complaining about being treated like a hot potato by my doctors? You know, the whole spotting thing plus my thyroid, etc and so forth? GP (General Practitioner) and OB (Obstetrician) were kind of passing me back and forth between themselves, neither willing to deal with my situation at that particular point in time.

Fast forward to today (or rather yesterday, since I’m sorta slow in posting this :blush), where *now* these very same doctors seem to be bidding my attentions. It started with the call from my GP, saying that my TSH was still a 2, but that she’d been talking to a Perinatologist about how best to treat my thyroid during pregnancy and that perhaps I ought to try to get in to see this perinatologist. After I explained I’d had a miscarriage, she suggested that if I got pregnant again, perhaps I could go back to seeing her for the pregnancy as long as I was also seeing this perinatologist at the same time. Didn’t sound like such a bad idea… I love my GP, even if I hate her waiting room, and I’ve seen her for two pregnancies so far, it’d be nice to follow through with her. Plus, I’d have the added bonus of seeing a peri, which I know wouldn’t eliminate all my anxiety (don’t think anything could do that), I know it would help some and at least I’d know I was doing all I could to ensure a healthy pregnancy. But damn, that waiting room!

Yesterday I had my follow-up post-op appointment with the OB. I love that office, I love that waiting room, even though we’re always the last people called back. (We think there’s a note on my chart requesting all nurses to call us back last.) Everything looks fine, she gave me the “all-clear” signal to start trying again as soon as we felt comfortable. She also told us the D&E went very smoothly, she didn’t even have to dilate me at all. Guess those laminarias worked. She said the pathology reports all came back normal, that there wasn’t any reason to think this miscarriage was caused by anything else than fate and perhaps some faulty development along the way. I don’t know if that’s comforting or not, becuase it’s hard to take comfort in knowing that lightning has just struck us twice (three times if you include the infertility; and I do). What’s to stop it from striking again?

Anywho, the OB said she’d love to see us back when we got pregnant again. That’s when we brought up the whole perinatologist and thyroid thing. As soon as we cleared up that we weren’t leveling any accusations about this last pregnancy, she told us that she could definitely work with a perinatologist should I get pregnant again. She also said there’s like five different tests we can run on my thyroid next time, make sure everythings copacetic. They don’t run these tests normally, since they’re rather expensive, but in my case, they may be warranted.

So now I feel as if I have these docs trying to outbid each other. The OB upped the stakes because she does have such a nice waiting room. :lol Well, I have plenty of time before I need to make a decision. But it feels so good, for once, to be the one in power when it comes to my health care.

Filed under Infertility Bites, Waiting for Shmear |

Posted on August 22nd, 2005

One of my biggest downfalls is I tend to think a lot. I think when I should be doing other things, like working on blog designs or sleeping. And lately I’ve been thinking about the difference between the aftermath of a miscarriage vs. the aftermath of a stillbirth.

First off, here is the mosaic garden stone we made over the weekend for Jackson. We’re going to place it at the cemetery as we still don’t have a proper headstone. And its so sad to go and see that unmarked grave, with just toys and decorations we’ve put there to show us where it is. I took this picture after it had cured overnight and yes, we’re keeping it in the oven. That way the cats won’t be tempted to play with it and believe me, they’d be tempted. We’ll probably go next Sunday to place it. I think it turned out pretty nice. Anyhow, on with the show.

Physically, and probably emotionally too (if you could manage to seperate them in your mind and heart), the stillbirth would be the bigger obstacle to overcome. After Jackson, I had to deal with my milk coming in, my incision which refused to heal, losing the “baby weight”, and all those wonderful post-partum hormones. Plus a giant helping of grief. After Shmear (s/he will never be known as anything else), the physical recovery has been simpler. Bleeding for a few days followed by intermittent spotting for the next two weeks. No breast problems, no incisions… comparatively the miscarriage is a lot easier to deal with afterward.

Emotionally, I’m not so sure.

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Yes, we had so much more time to bond with Jackson. By the time a woman makes it to 38 weeks, she’s pretty darned sure she’s getting a baby out of the deal. That was a *lot* to deal with. But this time around, we had such tenuous hope. We knew exactly what could go wrong and knew there was never going to be a moment where we could totally relax. The second trimester felt better, but as we learned, it’s by far no guarantee. We wanted this baby every bit as much as we ever wanted Jackson. In fact, maybe we wanted him/her more. Because we knew what we could lose and how long and hard it had been to get to that point. Plus, losing Shmear brought back all the emotions and pain and anguish we felt after Jackson died. It was like no time had passed. Like ripping off a scab to expose the gaping wound beneath. Same wound, just maybe a little more raw this time around. Some salt has been rubbed in for good measure.

But I get the impression, from the rest of the world, from family, from friends… heck, even from myself, that I should be getting over this a lot quicker. That it’s somehow not as “important” as the stillbirth, because it was just a miscarriage. People whom we know know of our situation make no mention of it around us. The very same people who 18 months before let us cry on their shoulders and urged us to talk about how we were doing. Is it because they don’t know what to say to us? Maybe we’ve migrated from being a sad case to being a tragic case. Maybe they’re afraid they’ll upset me more (as if that’s possible)? Maybe they’re afraid they’ll “catch” it.

I haven’t had this problem with friends I have on the internet, interestingly enough. It is somehow easier to offer support online than in person? But I am extremely grateful for all my online friends, you guys are like very real friends to me. You have been wonderful. So don’t think I’m talking about you, please.

I don’t want to ignore Shmear. I was pregnant for only 15 weeks (nearly sixteen). Yes, I count those weeks because even though we know the baby died earlier, I was pregnant and I felt pregnant up until the day of my D&E. No one can take those weeks away from me. 15 compared to 38 is a lot less. But my heart loved this baby just as much. To me, the pain is the same, maybe even worse somehow.

I feel so bad for women who’ve had miscarriages. Is this what it’s like? Do you all really get this poor an amount of support? My heart goes out to you. I don’t feel cheated so much, since I have felt the outpouring of love and support after Jackson died. But if I hadn’t, I would feel very, very, very alone right now.

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Filed under Infertility Bites, Sucking a Tail Pipe, Waiting for Shmear |

Posted on August 15th, 2005

fertility timeline

So I’ve been going over everything in my head, and I’ve realized just how long it’s taken us to have a baby. It’s a long time, and I’m ashamed to say, there’s a lot of wasted time in there. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s wasting time. So during this long, long diatribe of mine, feel free to refer to the timeline chart above. Becuase, believe me, it helps to have a visual reference in this. :P

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It started with the birth of H in November of 1999. I’m so amazed how easy it seemed to be at the time. You get pregnant, you have a baby, that’s just how it worked. I’m pretty sure I took it for granted. I know I did. Despite his difficult delivery, having H was really rather easy. We just decided to get pregnant and it happened, just like the fairy tales. How lucky we were then!

Then, in July 2000, I got my first postpartum period. We started to think about TTC again. My periods were by no means regular at that point, but we started to kick the idea around. Maybe in a few months, when things evened out again, we’d start in earnest.

In January 2001, my cycle seemed to be getting more regular so I went to see my family doctor and told her I’d like to try to get pregnant again. She gave me the all clear and a prescription for prenatal vitamins. Then she told me she’d see me again in a few months when I was pregnant. Simple as that. Or rather, it should have been.

I’ve always been impatient. Around March of 2001 I started to chart using what was called “LifeCycle” software at the time. Nowadays it’s known as Ovusoft. I started to keep track of when my period would start and even taking my temperature each morning to see if I could chart ovulation. A month later, I joined a group of women on the Ovusoft forums known as the “BabyBelles”, so I could have people to commiserate with over the TTC journey.

Nearly a year passed. A year! I hadn’t had so much as a faintly positive pregnancy test in that time so I went to see the doctor who had helped deliver H (different from my family doctor). She referred me to Dr. Foulk, the primary infertility specialist here in town. I called to make an appointment in January of 2002. I got an appointment for March of 2002. When we got there, imagine my surprise at finding out I wasn’t ovulating at all! I’d been charting all those months and thinking I was ovulating but I wasn’t. I fluctuated between being astounded at this news and disbelieving it. We were in a pretty transitional time, moving out of our appartment and into a rental house. Plus, I was just plain scared. Dr. Foulk wanted me to call when my next cycle started so he could run the necessary blood tests and get me started on Clomid. Yikes!

So I did what I hated to do, I wasted time. But I really thought that *maybe* I could ovulate on my own. But I didn’t, of course. It was nearly a year before a dear friend called Dr. Foulk for me in January of 2003 to see if I could come in when I started my next cycle. Because I was a big fat chicken. My next cycle started a few days later and I got the ball rolling. Blood tests were taken, and an HSG was scheduled. I had my Clomid prescription ready and waiting. I found out a few days later that I had “hypothyroidism”, meaning my thyroid was underactive and that was supressing ovulation. This happened sometime after H was born, in the natural fluctuation of maternal hormones. All this time, something I could have fixed. I’m so mad I didn’t have it checked sooner. So I was put on medication to control that and went ahead with the Clomid treatments.

It took us five cycles (with one cycle off for a break). I think it took so long partly because all that time we were trying to get my thyroid under control. Finally, on the last Sunday in July of 2003, I got a positive pregnancy test. It worked! It was a pretty nervous pregnancy, I didn’t breathe easily until the second trimester. I think that’s because I lost my innocence as far as having babies is concerned. In the years since I’d last been pregnant, I’d become a lot more educated about pregnancy and what can go wrong. So I was always worried that something would happen becuase I knew it could, at any time, for any reason.

As the pregnancy neared the end, I was filled with this overwhelming feeling of not being ready. Which is silly, in retrospect. It’d taken us four years to get to this point, how could I not be ready? Then, a week before my scheduled c-section, in March of 2004, I went into labor. The baby had died in utero. There was nothing we could have done to prevent it, besides being psychic and having the c-section a few days earlier. It was one of those “lightning strikes” moments. It just happened to strike us. What made it smart even more, was all the years we’d waited and tried and all the clomid and money we’d spent…for nothing. It felt like a waste and I *hate* that feeling. I wanted my baby, darnit.

We wanted to get pregnant again as soon as possible. But for some reason I held onto this tiny hope that maybe having another baby would have kicked my hormones back into gear. Plus, my thyroid was under control now, maybe I would ovulate on my own. For whatever reason, I wasted more time. Until January of 2005. We made another appointment with Dr. Foulk and finally got started again on the Clomid in February 2005. Nearly a year after we lost the baby. Why so long??

It only took three cycles this time. In May of 2005 I got my positive pregnancy test. This time, I was even more nervous. I spent nearly every day worrying about what could go wrong. I tried very very hard to be positive. But I’d lost even more innocence this time around. How do you get that back? You just don’t. Getting going with a doctor was difficult, but I finally got in to see a doctor who could take care of my high-risk self and whom I really liked. Then, at 15 weeks in August of 2005, I miscarried. Or maybe it was before that since the baby was only 11 weeks, but that was when the d&e was done, so that’s the date I go off of.

Why? As far as we know at this point, its just another “lightning strikes” thing. Just one of those things, nothing out of the normal. Happens more often than you’d like to think. But how often does it happen to an infertile mother of a stillborn baby?

We’re going to try again. I feel a little crazy for even considering it, but I know I have to try or I will regret it later on. And this time I have an appointment with Dr. Foulk in three weeks. We’re not wasting any time this time around because we’ve wasted enough time as it is.

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Filed under Infertility Bites, Sucking a Tail Pipe, Waiting for Shmear |

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