Thursday, August 13, 2009

Yet another hurdle. Mel's 65th show and tell

Let me start by saying that I have a really bad tendency to write utterly appropriate Show and Tell posts on the wrong day, usually a Monday, which is what happened yet again this week here. Lots of showing, lots of telling, wrong day. Oh well.

So in an effort to come up with another sharing post for today, I have decided to show and tell about my pregnancies, past and future.

In the months since Peyton's death many people have offered their opinions about what a future pregnancy would mean to/for me, and I have realized that most of these words, while offered out of love and concern, are somewhat based in misconception about what it is that I find so scary about trying again. I wish it was as simple as lightning doesn't strike twice, but seeing as I have been pregnant twice, and I have no living children, my faith in that belief system is pretty much shot to hell.

When Dru and I decided to start a family, we got pregnant (to both of our surprise) with very little effort. Believe me when I say that this blessing was not taken for granted. I never expected an easy road to motherhood. As a teen I was hospitalized for ovarian cysts, and told by doctors that childbearing would most likely be difficult. Not impossible, just difficult. This came as no big surprise to me, both my mother and sister endured long struggles of their own to have children, and I sort of accepted it as one of those things that runs in the family, like heart disease or slow metabolisms. Learning I was pregnant brought utter elation, and I couldn't wait to share the news of my pregnancy with Dru. We had decided to start trying, fully expecting it would take several months to years, and celebrated and cried and laughed about how completely unprepared we were for it to have happened so quickly. Sitting in my living room, watching my husband's eyes well with this news remains in my heart as one of the most beautiful moments we have ever shared in our married life, the beauty of it making it that much more painful for me, just a short while later, to tell him that I was bleeding, that it wouldn't stop, and that on September 11th, 2007, a day that already held so much emotional charge, my miscarriage had been confirmed.

On Christmas Eve, I found out I was pregnant again. The news of this, our second pregnancy came with more apprehension. It was sad, to lose that naive excitement that we had with the first pregnancy. We were happy of course, but also scared. Scared to feel the pain and disappointment of miscarriage again. We had lost our innocence in the arena of getting pregnant and had learned that this was a prospect that could bring pain. Cautiously optimistic, we forged ahead and hoped for the best, reminding ourselves repeatedly that lightning wouldn't strike us twice. I rarely talk about the miscarriage, about the affect it had on me and my feelings, of all things, of self worth. In my heart, as that first baby's mother, I had failed to carry him/her, to bring my child safely into this world. The lack of answers from the doctors didn't help to ease these feelings any.

So this brings me back to people and why they think I haven't yet tried again. Some think it is a fear of an unsuccessful pregnancy/miscarriage. Ironically, it is not at all. That fear left with Peyton. I carried her not only to term, but two weeks beyond. To say that I loved being pregnant is so inadequate, it was in reality the happiest time of my life. It's true, I was once a very happy person. Smiling, upbeat, nauseatingly optimistic in my expectations. I even have the pictures to prove it.

I am at the point now, having lost faith in most things through this, where I need to be shown that something is possible, not told. The experience of carrying Peyton to term showed me that I could carry a baby to term, and therefore I can now believe it. I know the joy of pregnancy is possible. I know that my body can tolerate a growing child. I know that I can maintain a healthy lifestyle and eat well and exercise. I know these things, so they no longer cause me fear. What I don't know is whether I can create a child that upon entering this world, will not be condemned to die.

Infant Leukemia laughs in the face of my grief and taunts me with its rarity, playing on my feelings of inadequecy for once again failing to bring a healthy child into the world; feelings that come when there are no other explanations. I have no answers. My child is dead and I have no answers. There were absolutely no indications when I was carrying Peyton that anything was wrong. No signs. No symptoms. Nothing. What's even more frustrating is living in a world where modern medicine can do the impossible; clone sheep, change one's gender, transplant the organs of animals into humans; and yet cannot offer a single test to determine whether or not my next child too, will be taken from me by this awful disease. How can I try again if I don't know when to stop worrying that Leukemia will take another child from me? When can I rule it out? At birth? After infancy? Puberty? Unfortunately no expert can give me an answer, just some bullshit about the probabilities of lightning striking twice.

I wish the prospect of trying again was as simple as the judgments others have placed on me
"Have another, you'll feel better."
"And what if I have to bury that one too?"
"What are the odds of it happening again?"
"About the same as they were the first time."
"Why aren't you trying?"
"The grief has made trying impossible at the moment."

All along I have hoped that we wouldn't have to try again, in terms of actually trying. I know how I feel. I know how terrified I am of losing another child, or breaking to the point of no return. I know that my fears can keep me from ever taking that leap of faith. I prayed that when the time came, God would help me out by making that decision for me. Oh how welcome an "oops" moment would be. I want a healthy family. I want to move past this pain, to say "okay, it has happened and I am going to do my best to put my fears aside and make this baby healthy." This was my hope, to leave this decision to God and nature, but even this has become too much to ask for. In yet another smack in the face, my grief over the child I have lost has made the prospect of easily getting pregnant improbable. I haven't talked about this here before, but an apparent side effect of watching your baby die, is having your remaining eggs retreat in fear of meeting a similar fate. I don't know that I would want to take the risk either if I were my eggs. My track record of 0 healthy children for 2 pregnancies is not very encouraging. Somewhere between my anger and bitterness at this new development, the situation is almost laughable. Here Krissy, how about some secondary IF after the death of your only child? Really?

My doctor has started me on hormones to try to get my body back on track, not because we are trying, but because I can't let this go. She says its not time to worry... yet, which is good because I think I have enough on my plate in that department. I was going to take pictures of the hormones for show and tell, but figured you would find very little interest in seeing a photo of little white pills. These hormones have made me even more of an emotional mess these past few weeks, as I am sure my husband would attest to, and will give me some indication by this weekend as to whether or not I am jumping over this hurdle, or standing at the doorstep of another uphill battle towards motherhood. Either way, I think I need a new lightning rod.

See what the others are sharing for this week's show and tell here.

13 comments:

  1. I am so sorry to hear about the emotional mess you're in, right now. I hope that it's brief. I'm not so sure about how hormonal treatments work but... I'm glad that you're writing about it.

    You know your body best. And you should do what is best for you without giving into the wishes of others. When you're ready, if you're ready, to try again, it will be a decision made by you and Dru. Not by me. Not by my temporary cat, Milo. Not by the big Electron but you and Dru. (Hey, that rhymes!)

    Keep the two of you in primary focus and THEN everybody else... and you'll figure things out just fine :).

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  2. I also have a track record of 0 for 2. A miscarriage followed by a neonatal death, a death that nobody saw coming until the day he was born. I also remember feeling that my naivety and had been taken away through that second pregnancy. Now, my husband and I are trying again. Lightning did strike twice for us, but for me the prospect of never having children scares me even more than the prospect of losing another baby. After feeling such immense love for Lachlan, I don't want this to be the end.

    I'm so sorry that secondary IF has struck. It's not fair! I hope the pills work and that they get your body back on track, and that then as soon as you want to and feel ready, your path to conception is short.

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  3. I am a first time visitor. I am so sorry for your pain. I can understand why you would be so hesitant about another pregnancy. You are very strong for talking about your feelings.

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  4. When YOU'RE ready. I've never been through what you have but my heart breaks for you.

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  5. I have no words :( No words could heal the pain you feel anyway. My heart does break for you. I agree with everything Parenthood For Me said.

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  6. Everyone grieves differently...in different ways, in different timelines. Forget what everyone else says and do what you and your husband feel is best. The time will come where you will have better luck at approaching the subject of trying again, even if you decide that you aren't able to walk that path again.

    For me, the possibility of never being a mother of a live child scares me worse than losing another one. It's the only thing I've wanted since I was a child and I was lucky that my parents were what gave me that deep desire. But I know for myself, that it isn't time to attempt to try in any way because my grief is still too vivid and fresh from losing my twins.

    Sending you love and hugs.

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  7. It seems we share a sad anniversary. September 11th for me as well...

    Any step forward is a good step. And as so many others have said, in your time.

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  8. YOU SAID:
    I wish the prospect of trying again was as simple as the judgments others have placed on me

    "Have another, you'll feel better."
    "What are the odds of it happening again?"
    "Why aren't you trying?"

    You are so right...I feel like the above words just came out of my mouth. I can't wait to TTC but the waiting isn't what hurts the most it is being in a place where there is so much judgement and not being able to grief as needed. You really took the words from my mouth.

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  9. I love seeing Peyton's name in the sand....I would love to see a post on the story behind Peyton's name...

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  10. I'm a first time visitor here too. What a gorgeous baby girl! I can only imagine how you miss her. I have no advice to offer, just sending love and warm wishes across the sea to you. xxxx

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  11. I am a first time visitor. I am in awe of your bravery, and my heart breaks for your loss. People say a lot of things they think are helpful, but are sometimes not. I have no words of wisdom, but send you my thoughts as you go grieve.

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  12. I have two living children, but I've lost two as well. Like Lachlan's Mom, I just don't think I could live without regrets if we didn't try to have more. It's far too easy for me to dwell on the "what if's," and I am terrified to watch another baby suffer to survive. I really have been trying to focus on the fact that the odds of having another with T-18 are very low.... but probably higher than your risk of leukemia. Sometimes I start thinking about all the other things that can go wrong before/during/after birth and my anxiety sky rockets again. Pregnancy is not a guarantee. I've sadly discovered that even if you make it to the end with no complications, it doesn't necessarily mean that I'll be bringing a baby home. I realize that any future pregnancies will never be the same for me as they were in the past. I'll always have that fear.....
    I hope you will get your body on the right track soon to give you the option of having another... I know that having other babies will never replace our lost children and I wouldn't ever want it to. I would be very sad hear that you'll never try again.... You are an amazing mother who very obviously loves her daughter with every ounce of her being. Keep the faith that things will work out for you... You've been through very hard times, but I just know that it will improve. Much love and strength coming your way.... This will work out. We both will have another baby in our arms someday, and although they will not be our lost babies who we so desperately want, we will love them and appreciate them just that much more, because we understand what it's like to loose. (((hugs)))

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