Bite me...wait...STOP biting me!

I come begging for advice/assvice.  What have you done to stop biting amongst the minors in your household?  Anyone?

Jack has realized that all those little teeth in his mouth are a weapon, and he's prepared to use them.  Take his toy?  Not without consequence!  Get in the same hidey-hole as him?  Not without retribution!  Prepare to face the jaws-of-doom!  And of course all of this is directed at his nemesis brother.

The Victim

The Perpetrator

Double Standards

The world is full of double standards.  They're all over the place and cannot usually be avoided.  But I never realized how full my own head was with them.

I'm full of double standards.  They suck, but I don't know how to get around them.  I don't even know why I put them there!  And it had to be me, who else would be in my head?  What am I screwing myself about?  Grief.

For some reason I seem to feel that I have no right to grieve right now.  I'm blessed with two beautiful children, a wonderful husband, the luxury to stay at home with my children, and so much more.  Every time I start to get down about my recent miscarriage, I try to reason with myself.  "Yes, you lost that baby, but look at what you've been given!"  Really?  Really, Amanda?  WTH?

I would expect anyone out there that has suffered a loss to be heartbroken!  Early loss, ectopic, first trimester loss, second loss, stillbirth, neonatal death, failed adoption, etc...I'd expect anyone to cry, rage, mourn their loss.  But for some reason I won't allow myself.

I'd be the first one to say that grief can't be compared, yet I find myself comparing mine.  I'm comparing what I'm going through to everyone's situations.  She lost a parent.  She is losing a husband.  She's having her (insert number here) miscarriage.  She doesn't have any children, yet.  She is living a farce of a marriage.  He is about marry for the wrong reasons...for the second time.  Why do I do this?

My grief is MINE and mine ALONE.  I'm heartbroken.  I'm stuck waking up to the fact every morning that I'm no longer pregnant; there is no longer another life inside of me.  I keep having the what-she-would-have-grow-up-to-do thoughts, and have to remind myself that she won't be anything...she's dead.

And I'm trying to grieve, but every time I do...every time I start to get misty eyed I go hug my boys.  It makes me feel better, but it also keeps me from feeling my grief.  How am I supposed to keep this from eating away at me if I won't let it out?

I've also raged and vented about how so many people try so hard to say the "right" thing and end up screwing it up royally.  I don't know how many times I've said "the best thing to say is "I'm sorry" and "I'm praying for you" or "I'm thinking of you"."  You know what I've caught myself saying when people have said I'm sorry?  "It happens."  WHAT???  Yes, it happens (duh), but why can't I just accept the condolences?

I want to stand on the mountain and scream at the skies, "WHY ME?!?!?" but then I think, "why anyone? why her? or her?"  I even wrote that I didn't feel I deserved this pregnancy before I even found out it was doomed.  ("I’ve already been blessed so much…why would I deserve any more?"  But I do want more.

But I don't want more, I just want what I thought I was getting.  I want my baby back.  (and could I freaking shoot myself every time I think that? I get the stupid Chili's baby-back rib commercial stuck in my head every. freaking. time. and now I'm hungry and revolted at the same time.)

This and that

I really should do Danifred's Friday Night Leftovers, but that would mean posting on a certain day...yeah.  Not sure I can commit.  I know, I suck.  ;-)  Here's are some bullet points for you regardless.

• I'm supposed to get my braces off today.  Hooray!  I've had them on for 21 months 4 weeks and 1 day.  Wow.  I'm probably going to get a permanent retainer because my memory sucks like that.  Yeah.


• I'm not looking forward to un-telling my Ortho's office.  I told them I was pregnant when I went in last time because they mentioned X-rays.  Now I have to un-tell a huge open office of mostly women of childbearing age.  At least they're all nice women.  I just pray no one says any of those horrible things that people seem to want to say in times of loss.


• Tim is leaving the country before I get done with my ortho appointment today.  He'll be gone for almost two weeks.  I'm not sure who will miss him more, me or the boys.  They adore their Daddy.  I'm kind of partial to him myself.


• I find it amusing that everyone I know will see me without braces for the first time in almost two years, except the man I'm married to.  Hahaha!


• I'm tired of the stupid things people say to someone that's had a miscarriage (or other forms of loss).  "God knows best"?  And you and God speak about me often?  Let ME decide when I want to give this to God (which, by the way, I have, but it hurts me when other people assume things).


• Please also don't tell me there must have been something wrong with the baby.  I only know one doctor and she wouldn't be so insensitive since she's not my OB.  And if you think something else besides "I'm sorry" "I'm praying for you" or such sentiments are appropriate, they're probably not.  (and in no way is any of this directed at anyone that has ever commented on my blog, this is for the IRL people that honestly mean well, but screw it up instead).


• We find out in 2 1/2 weeks if there are any test results to receive.  We may find out if something went wrong.  We may find out the sex of the Nugget.  We may not.  I'm trying to not really grieve too much until then.  No matter how much I grieve and/or heal, the whole can of worms will be reopened then.


• The boys and I (and Emma, the dog) are heading up to visit my parents in Western NC this week.  I've got plans to hang out with my BFF Friday night.  Saturday afternoon I'm taking my nephew to a movie for his birthday.  Sunday I'm going to church with my boys and my parents and praying that no one makes a stupid comment to me (their whole church knows about the nugget).  Monday we're heading home!


• I'm almost done with a scarf to wear while in NC.  It's really difficult to get into crocheting a scarf when the daily high is almost 70°.  Don't get me wrong, I'm SO HAPPY the weather is beautiful, but it really kills warm-chunky-scarf desire. ;-)


• Jack bites.  Just ask Trip.  Trip took Jack's toy for about the 100th time last night and Jack finally snapped.  We thought Jack was just pushing Trip down with his head, like he so often does to keep him away, but we were wrong.  We lifted Jack off and found eight tiny teeth prints on Trip's arm.  Trip never even gave a clue Jack was hurting him (and we know it had to hurt, the red marks are still there today).  The devious little grin across Trip's face never faltered...well, not until Tim held Trip still so I could take a picture of the wound.  Heathen children!


• Oh yeah, and Trip might have been fussy the past couple of weeks because he was getting a 1 year molar...duh! I didn't notice it until it was 1/2 way through.  This totals 3 teeth in his mouth that are 1/2 way through and 3 more huge lumps where his other three 1 year molars are ready to bust through.  Jack also has a 1 year molar cutting through and 3 huge lumps where more molars are hiding out.


• Sock it to me anyone?
  

Thank you for being here for me!  You'll never know how much it has meant to have your support.  :-)

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So that's what that was?

This miscarriage is nothing like my ectopic pregnancy.  The ectopic pregnancy had originally been diagnosed as an early term miscarriage.  I never cramped or bled anything worse than a normal period, though.  But now that I've actually had the physical experience of a definite miscarriage I know this isn't my first one.

When I was TTC with Mr. Really-Bad-Idea back in 2001 and 2002 I had what I thought was an early term loss.  When my OB/Gyn office was finally able to fit me in (over a week after it occurred) they did some blood work and told me I hadn't been pregnant.  Back then I could only take them at their word as I didn't know anything about HCG or anything else TTC related.  I'm pretty sure they were wrong.

Everything I've read says after a miscarriage your HCG levels drop pretty quickly, so I believe the blood test was just to late to detect anything.  I would have only been 5-6 weeks pregnant when the loss occurred so my levels wouldn't have been too horribly high, anyway.  And the pain I felt...OMG.  It's definitely similar to the pain I've had the past few days.  I remember the pain waking me up in the middle of the night...Mr. Really-Bad-Idea was nice enough that he wanted to take me to the ER, but I wouldn't let him.  The next day at work the pain actually dropped me to the floor at work (boy they were pissed I left early over what I then thought were period cramps).  Only after I called my doctor and they suggested an early loss did I think that's what it could have been.  I really wonder now why they waited over a week to get me in if they felt it was a loss.  Not that they could have done anything to help, but shouldn't I have at least been checked out?  Oh well.

Mr. Really-Bad-Idea's reaction (way back then...he's now Mr. Will-be-murdered-by-husband-if-ever-found-in-dark-alley) was to laugh.  I don't remember how I told him what I suspected, but he laughed.  I know that when I saw him over a year after we'd split up he told me his girlfriend had left him, gone back to her ex-boyfriend, then called to inform him she'd miscarried the child he never knew about.  He was heartbroken about it and I felt justified in that moment (not at his loss, but at his suffering).

Yeah.  So that's what that was...

My appointment

This morning, after my appointment, I walked across the hall to the High Risk Clinic so I could cancel my ultrasound.  I came out at the same time as another woman.  She had the stomach of someone that had recently given birth.  Her face looked exhausted, tear stained, and haunted.  She had a friend with her, but no baby.  Her pant leg was rolled up so as to not disturb the ointment she had on her fresh tattoo.  Her tattoo was beautiful; baby foot prints, the name Monique, two angel wings and a halo.  I touched her shoulder gently and told her I thought her tattoo was beautiful.  I wish I would have told her that I'm sorry she lost her baby girl.  Maybe I was wrong.  I hope I was wrong.

*********************

I went to my appointment this morning to talk about whether or not I needed a D&C.  I first began to cry when I handed Tim the ziploc bag containing our baby.  I cried when I took the bag back.  I cried after the nurse left us alone in the exam room.  I told Tim how much the situation sucked.  I told Tim no one should have to bring their baby into an office in a ziploc bag.  "This is just fucked up."

The doctor we spoke with and the nurse that helped us were both so nice.  The doctor didn't tell me anything new, but he did offer to test the "tissue" to try and see what went wrong.  He agreed with my other doctor about this probably being something chromosomal.  I asked him if they would be able to tell me sex of the baby...he seemed a little thrown by the question but bounced back quickly and said "Yes, they should be able to."

They checked out the "tissue" and confirmed it was the gestational sac.  They then performed an ultrasound to make sure everything looked OK.  It did.  There was no need for a D&C.

I explained to my doctor that my greatest fear up to this morning was the D&C.  Just in case I ever faced this situation again, I wanted to know how they performed the procedure in the office.  An Ativan to relax, either Motrin or Tordol to ease the cramping, then a Lidocaine paracervical block.  In other words I'd be 100% awake and would feel the majority of it (for reference, I'm taking Motrin and Darvocet to ease the pain of the cramps I already have).  I'm truly glad I asked.  This way if I do ever need a D&C I'll be prepared to demand something different than what they do in the office.  The whole reason behind the need for a D&C is traumatic enough without having to be awake and actually feel the damned procedure.  I'm floored that this seems to be standard for this office.  Wow.

*********************

Tim and I go back February 4 to make sure I'm doing OK and to get the report on our baby.  I'm praying they're able to tell me the sex.  I'm praying that if they don't find anything wrong with the baby that I don't then take on all the guilt.

Joy in unlikely places

I couldn't think of a title for this post, but I really didn't want to leave my last one on top.

Sunday night, while standing at the Labor and Delivery check-in desk, I got to hear one of the most beautiful sounds.  Most would think it would have been a horrible thing to hear at that moment, knowing I was more than likely about to find out my baby was dead, but it wasn't.  It brought tears of joy to my eyes.

In the room right across from the desk, a baby had just been born.  A little life had just made it safely outside.  I could hear those angry and confused little screams...and it made my heart happy.  I imagined that the mother had longed for this pregnancy with her entire heart and soul.  I imagined those little screams to be the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.  I even imagined that maybe she had been where I was right then, but was now in that room about to hold her very own little miracle of life.

It makes me happy even now to think about it.

******************

Danifred wrote a beautiful post today that was exactly what I needed to read.  You should read it too!

all over the place (angry and graphic, be warned)

I do not want to offend anyone.  This post is angry and very graphic.  Please be warned and understand that I do not post this to offend anyone.  I post this because a) this is my place to get my feelings out and b) the information may one day help someone in my situation.

This is where my emotions are right now.  Up, down, neutral, cold, hot...everywhere.  I know I'm just going through stages of grief and dealing with this the way my mind knows how, but wow!

And at this moment I'm angry.  I'm not angry with God like I was with my ectopic, and I'm grateful for that.  I'm angry instead at not having the knowledge I was seeking available to me.  I desperately wanted to know what I was looking for as I began to miscarry this baby.

All the medical personnel I've dealt with in the past few days kept telling me if I passed "the tissue" to save it and bring it in.  First off, why do I need to bring it in?  Would it have been too difficult to take an extra second and let me know that I'm supposed to bring it in so you can be sure I passed everything I should?  You made sure I understood that if I couldn't bring it in that it was OK.  One more minute of explanation would have left me with one less question in my poor confused mind...that would have been nice.

And what was I looking for?!?!  A clot?  A lump of grayish tissue?  WHAT?!!?  I've read descriptions online of what you can see with a miscarriage, but I'm pretty they were all further along that I was.  I mean date wise I was 8w3d when we found out there was no heartbeat, but growth wise the baby was only 6w1d.

I searched my little fingers off online last night for a picture of what I could expect and guess what I found.  If you guessed what I was looking for, you're wrong.  If you guessed heartbreaking and graphic pictures of aborted babies at all stages of gestation, you'd be right.  I'm all for pro-life, but you could you lighten up on the mislabeled pictures already?!?!?!  I wanted to know what a 6 week miscarriage looked like, not a 22 week aborted baby!  I really did not need that last night (or ever to be honest).

You'd really think with all the medical sites out there one would have a google-able picture of what the "products of conception" look like at 6 weeks.  All the little cutesy diagrams of what-your-baby-looks-like at this stage are sweet when you're baby isn't dead.  When you're wondering what you need to fish out of the toilet it doesn't help.

So if you haven't guessed by now, my body decided to take care of this "missed miscarriage" on it's own.  On one hand I'm grateful that I don't need to stress about a D&C anymore (hopefully) but on the other hand...well...I didn't want to reach my hand into a toilet to rescue my miscarried baby from flushing.  I didn't want there to be a need for it.  But there was.  And I did it without thinking about it...at that moment.

And for anyone who's reached this post trying to find out what a 6 week miscarriage looks like, read on for a description.

Do not pass go *updated again*

Or why-did-I-bother-to-schedule-an-ultrasound-for-Friday?  Well, because the doctor wouldn't let me schedule it sooner.  But now he may have to.

I started bleeding last night.  I called the on-call doc.  I went to the hospital (thank God they let me go to Labor & Delivery instead of torturing me with the worst ER in the world).  They couldn't find a heartbeat with their crappy machine.  I stopped bleeding.  My cervix is still completely closed.  Right now my technical diagnosis I believe is "threatened miscarriage".  The doctor said he thinks it's a missed-miscarriage, though.  (and you can actually switch the word miscarriage with abortion and that's how they worded it, but I can't do that.)  I'm supposed to call my OB's office this morning to schedule an ultrasound so they can confirm there is no heartbeat and go from there.

This really sucks.  And that's putting it mildly.  But I'm stuck in some sort of clinical thinking stage of grief or something.  I know when I really start feeling this it's going to bowl me over...I had a moment or two when the bleeding started yesterday that I really felt it...it wasn't pretty.  And I don't know how to help Tim.  Right now I keep saying horribly inappropriate things.  Poorly thought out sarcastic comments about my dead baby.  I know I've hurt his feelings already and have to think a little better about what I say.

His bosses want him to stay home to "be there" for me.  He needs to work to keep himself occupied.  He's super sensitive and is devastated, too.  They don't seem to understand that.  They all seem to think that he has to help me grieve, but doesn't need to grieve himself.  Of course if I need him for an appointment, or for any other reason, he's less than 5 minutes away and can leave work immediately.

Well, right now my mind is a cluster-fuck of thoughts and emotions and I really don't know where I was going with this anymore.  Thank you all so much for the love and support you've been giving me.  It really has helped.  Thank you. :)

It really sucks walking around and getting out of bed and doing other such mundane day to day things when you know you're doing it with a dead baby inside.

*update*

The nurse at my OB office was kind enough to schedule me for a followup ultrasound this morning at 11.  Tim and I both know they won't find a heartbeat, but we can't move forward until it's been confirmed.

I honestly just want to schedule a D&C and to try and begin the healing process.  I don't want a natural miscarriage.  I've already been told if I think I pass the baby, to save the tissue and bring it in...that's just a terrible thought.  The nurse said, "If you can save it, but you may pass it in the toilet".  The thought of flushing my baby...she saw my reaction and reminded me that at this point it's just a mass of cells.  I honestly appreciate her trying to make it easier for me, but no matter how logical I am about it the "mass of cells" had a heartbeat less than a week ago.

*second update*

They were easily able to confirm the lack of a heartbeat.  My little Nugget did try, though.  She'd grown a little before she couldn't do it any more.  That made Tim and I both smile a little.

I go Thursday to talk with the doctor that does the D&Cs.  They said something about preforming the procedure in the office?!?!  Aren't these things done under general anesthesia???  They're freaking insane if they think there is enough local anesthesia in the world for me to have this done in office.

I'm really having a hard time grieving right now.  Tim's trying to "be strong" for me.  In turn I'm trying to be strong for him.  Yeah, this is going to work.  I'm lucky I have so much support from all of you online and from my friends and family IRL.

This sucks.

Dream a little dream

I remember talking to my Mom the other day comparing this pregnancy with the boys.  I told her finding out I was pregnant and it was twins was "like a dream come true"!  It was amazing and wonderful and all the other good things you use to describe events like that.

But it wasn't how I'd planned.  It was work.  I was lucky that we managed to conceive the boys pretty much the old fashioned way, but OMG the chore of having sex at that point!  I know too many of you know what I mean.  It was a chore to have sex at that point and on more than one occasion Tim and I wished we could just skip the sex part and go right to the rolling over and going to sleep part.  But it worked and I was happy.

I told her this pregnancy was like "waking up to a dream".  Tim and I had sex because we wanted to be intimate with each other...because we were in the mood.  And it made a life!  THIS is how we all dream it will be.  And it happened to me!

But now this dream feels like some kind of fucked up nightmare that you can't wake up from.  You don't know if you're going to run out of the abandoned building and run into a field of flowers or a field of rotting corpses.  The sense of foreboding is overwhelming, but you can't help but hope for those stupid flowers.

Right now I'm full of hope (thank you everyone for your love and support, you mean so much to me!) but can't shake the feeling that I'm about to walk into the wrong field.  I'd really like to wake up, now.  I'd like to wake up to my before, please.  Before the positive test.  Before the asshole doctor on base.  Before the ER trip and being told "the baby is in the uterus".  Before the overly cheery ultrasound technician yesterday.

Not quite as I had planned - updated with pic

I had my first OB appointment and real ultrasound for this pregnancy today.  I am currently 7w6d.  The Nugget is only measuring 5w6d and the heartbeat is too weak to measure (for the record, at 5w6d a too weak to measure heartbeat is perfectly fine).  Two weeks behind. This is not good.

The very cheery ultrasound tech informs me that I must have my dates wrong.  I am pretty damn sure my dates are fine; it's the baby that's not.  For the baby to be OK I would have to have conceived right around 12/10...you know...the day I had a beta of 68.  Pretty sure that didn't happen.  She was cheery and positive nonetheless. I appreciate her optimism.  I honestly do.

The doctor was a bit more realistic.  He didn't schedule me for another OB appointment, just another ultrasound.  He wanted to wait two weeks, but Tim will be out of the country in two weeks. I cannot go to my next ultrasound without him.  He also mentioned the yolk sac size vs the embryo size and used the lovely word "chromosomal".  Yeah...large sac small baby...genetically not right, I get it.

So for now I sit and wait for a miracle.  I'm not very good at waiting or at optimism.  I'm a realistic type of person.  Tim is being wayyyy optimistic and I'm trying to not crush his spirit.  I'd really like to go ahead and see if my Mom can come into town in two weeks so I can have someone here to let me be a big baby if I have to get a D&C.

The worst part?  Seeing that little flickering heart.  She let us look at it for a couple of minutes...it was both beautiful and heartbreaking.  I think I would have rather not seen a heartbeat at all.  She also gave us a picture.  Proof that my Nugget was here.

But I am still grateful for things.  I'm grateful that after this horrible day I still have to beautiful little ones to come home to.  I'm grateful to have a husband that is so supportive and hopeful.  I'm grateful that this happened after I had my boys instead of before.  I had a moment in 5 Guys (burger joint) after the appointment where I heard a little baby and turned around to see a beautiful little girl in a carrier.  I almost cried until it hit me like a brick that whether or not I get to keep this baby, I still have my boys.  Thank you God!  (don't get me wrong, this hurts like hell and I'd love to curl into a ball and sob, but it IS easier at this point than my first loss.)

So, if you pray, please pray for my Nugget.  If you don't pray, I could still use all the good thoughts and well wishes you would be willing to give.

[caption id="attachment_1345" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The Nugget at 7w6d Measuring 5w6d - Sorry for the blurriness, she had to zoom in majorly to get the shot."][/caption]

Danifred could also use some love right now.  She went in for an ultrasound only to find out the baby had quit growing.