On the unfairness of life.

Last night I lost it a little bit.

I decided that what would be a really good idea would be to torture myself by looking at the photos of people on my facebook who had recently added to their families. A bit like the old programme 'Bullseye' where Jim Bowen would torment the losers at the end of the show with '...and this is what you could have won!'

In my case, I saw what I have lost. Those lovely pictures of a child meeting their younger brother or sister for the first time and the joy and pride on the faces of the parents. One 'friend' in particular, (i call them a friend, i don't really actually know them), is onto her third child, each with that 'perfect' 2 year gap between them. I imagine she has never known the pain of loss or even of having to try, month after relentless month to achieve something everyone else seems to be able to at the drop of a hat.

I flew into a bit of a rage. I wanted her to feel just an ounce of what I, and so many others i've met on this sad journey, have felt. I'm ashamed to say I wanted to wipe the smug smile off her face. It sometimes feels very cruel that the world keeps spinning when my babies are dead. I don't like having these feelings. I know they are irrational. I know everyone else's fertility has no bearing whatsoever on my own. I know, from the last few months speaking to people on Twitter and on a popular parenting website I frequent that my story is not, by any means the worst. I am super super lucky to have a child AT ALL, something which I've been keeping in mind A LOT since the last MC.
I have a lovely life, I have more than so many others in this world and I KNOW I should be grateful.

Some days are just so hard.

2013- A year in review.

So, 2013 started off with a bang- well a BFP at any rate. We’d been trying since April 2013, so it was a good 9 months, which I now realise in the IF world is not really all that long. Everything seemed to be going well, I’d heard of MMCs but I only knew one person IRL that had ever had one. My symptoms were less than when I’d had my DD, sure, but everything I read suggested that every pregnancy was different.

My life changed on Tuesday 26th February- I went into that 12 week scan without much of a worry. I’d already seen a healthy HB at 8 weeks. When I was told there was something wrong, my heart sank. It was confirmed as an MMC on 1/3/2013.

I went into meltdown for the next few months, angry at everything and everyone. My desperation to be pregnant again was overwhelming. 5 months later, I got my wish. Sadly, this pregnancy ended the same way. 1/10/2013, the bad news was confirmed.

So, 2013 has consisted of 2 MMCs and 2 ERPCS. It’s also consisted of about a million successful pregnancy announcements (or so it feels like). These events have overshadowed all of the good, and if I’m honest, there has been some good to come out of 2013. So today’s blog post is going to focus on the good, and forget the fact that this morning, the anniversary of that BFP, my period started to arrive (brilliant timing eh??) It seems the first day of the month is not a lucky day for me.

So, the positives…
1.) I found out who my true friends are- and I met some new ones who have helped me through this journey.
2.) I gained a clear realisation of just how precious and how much of a miracle my little DD is. I’d always taken for granted that I’d be able to have number 2 just as easily as I managed number 1. She was meant to be, pure and simple!
3.) I learned a bit of compassion.
4.) I went to Disneyland Paris and had the best family holiday ever.
5.) I went on two short cruises, just me and DH, and enjoyed that time away, just us two.
6.) We bought our first home, and it’s everything I ever wanted in a place.

I’m trying not to set my expectations too high for 2014. I have no control over the events that will happen or the obstacles that will be put in my path. My only wish is to do my best, to not let life drag me down as it did in 2013. To appreciate what I already have (and there are lots of things I already have that I wanted so much in the past). I want this to be the year that I take care of myself, and I mean that in so many different ways; my health, my sanity, my body.

I hope 2014 is kind to you all.

Shite couple of days

I should know not to speak too soon.

After being pleasantly surprised that I was feeling 'normal' (as per my last post), the last few days have been pretty shitty to say the least, and have started to sour my good mood somewhat. It all started with a letter from the private fertility clinic that had started to run tests before my last bfp and subsequent MMC. DH did a sperm test a few days before our good news, and it was last week we got, in writing, the bad results. So how the hell i've been managing to get pregnant is a mystery to me.   It's like 2 miracles happened and then my body decided to fuck it all up. We've been recommended to freeze DH's sperm 'just in case' it deteriorates further, but this assumes we will want to pursue ICSI or IVF, and y'know, i'm just not sure i'm up for that.

Then, on the very same letter, a big list of all the possible tests i need for recurrent MC. Some will (hopefully) be done by the NHS, but if you've been reading my last few posts, you'll know how useless my doctor is, and, it seems he can't even get my blood over to be tested at the hospital without it clotting en route. So, that's where we stand at the moment.

Added to all that bullshit, my work is like Preggo fucking city. I spend my days furtively glancing round corners and rushing from one spot to the next in the hope I don't have to bump (scuse the pun) into any of them, and/or overhear any of their bollocks. Don't ask me why, but in the midst of all this pissedoffness, I decided it was a good idea to log back into my Facebook after a two month break 'just to see the gossip'. BIG FUCKING MISTAKE. Not only were the same people banging on about the same old shit, but literally EVERYONE is pregnant. EVERYONE! So I quickly deactivated my account yet again after a few moments of sado masochism.

In another fantastic example of self love, I went to a family party I promised myself I wouldn't (because DH's heavily pregnant cousin, who conveniently got pregnant at the time of my first mc, would be there). Luckily I was saved somewhat by my skinny SIL, who proceeded to mention (with genuine disgust) at every given opportunity how 'hideously fat' DH's cousin now was. Cruel I know, but I needed the laugh. Upon leaving the party, DH's cousin came over to say goodbye and I managed to somehow escape without having to go near her. Although, in hindsight, she will probably have noticed that it was quite deliberate. Ah well.

Feel better already for my mega bitch rant. This has to be a record for how many swear words I can get into a blog post. Merry fucking Christmas!

My pregnant best friend

So, um, yeah. One of my closest, best friends is pregnant.

This is not just any friend. This friend is my DD's godmother. She was one of my bridesmaids. She was the one who came with me to the scan that revealed my first MMC in February. She was one of the very few people who sat with me while I spewed out the horrible truth about how I really felt, who came over to my house just to sit with me, who would pull me away from situations where I was faced with a pregnant lady, who would really listen and get me to breathe and talk me out of my moments of madness. She told me she didn't want to try for a baby until I was pregnant again because she didn't want to hurt me any more than I was hurting already. Of course, I told her not to be ridiculous, and I remember a few months ago, she texted me to tell me that she and her OH were thinking of trying for a baby and she would understand if I couldn't speak to her any more (I mean, this was how bad she must have thought I was coping to even suggest that).

Fast forward a couple of months. I found out I was pregnant again in August. Naturally, she is one of the few people I tell in real life. She was overjoyed, relieved even, because she too, was pregnant, just a few weeks ahead of me, and she didn't know how the hell she was going to tell me. We have a few weeks where neither of us dare to believe it's happening. She's terrified because she has seen what could potentially happen, I'm terrified because I know first hand what can happen. And deep down, there's that niggling voice saying 'There's no way the both of you are going to get out of this okay, and it's going to DESTROY your friendship'.

Her scan was 2 weeks ahead of mine. She texted me to tell me she was fine and she'd been put a week ahead of her dates. And then the gut wrenching, sick feeling again. You know what happened the next week. I texted her and she came straight round, sobbing. We sat and cried together. She told me that she wanted me to be a big part of her baby's life, but she would understand if I had to stop seeing her, or if not, I had to tell her if things were too difficult for me and she would keep away until I felt stronger. Which would be okay, you think.

But here's the problem. This is the friend who, on finding out I was pregnant with DD, was so excited that she collected a big box of gifts and clothes that she gave to me when I was 8 weeks pregnant (ahhh, the ignorance of innocence!)She was the friend who would sit with me eagerly talking babies and getting involved in everything to do with the pregnancy. When DD was born, she would come round and help me (I was and still am not naturally maternal, though she undoubtedly is). She would even take DD for a walk in her pushchair while I rested. As DD has gotten older, she's gotten increasingly close to her Auntie GG, who comes round to see her and play with her and read her stories. If there's anyone I wouldn't have minded getting pregnant, it was her.

That was until all this happened. I feel awful saying it because I love her to bits, and truly, deep down inside I am happy for her. I can sense her pulling away. Not to be nasty, I know, but because I know that she too can sense that being around her hurts me. She texts my mother to ask after me mostly, occasionally DH. Sometimes she will text me but often waits until I text her, which I'm finding it harder and harder to do.

I want to be there to support her like she supported me. I want to get excited for her, I want to ask after her scans, I want her to be able to talk to me about her symptoms and her feelings and everything, but I just can't. I can't face it, and I just feel like the shittiest, most horrible person. I miss her. I know that I could call any time and she would be there but something stops me. I don't know what the answer is to any of this.

Perhaps there is none. I just know that this feeling won't go away, and I really really want it to.

Shit happens

I feel like i need to check in. So much has happened since I last wrote:

I went back to work.
I managed to get anti depressants from the doc, which i've been taking for the last 2 weeks.
I've lost 3 pounds.
I have blood tests booked, although i'm holding out no hope that they will find anything to explain why this has happened twice.

I'm not sure what to write other than i'm still here, putting one foot in front of the other.

Although i have moments of happiness, and im getting on with life, it feels like everything is a shade duller than it was before, like my innocence, my feeling that good things happen to good people, has been snatched away. Life just ain't like that. Shit happens...and it doesnt matter whether you're a good person or whether you're a mass murderer. The concept of karma, getting what you deserve, none of it makes sense to me any more...

I know people turn to cliches at times like this e.g 'God only gives you what you can handle', like i must be a really strong person or whatever, for dealingwith this shit twice. I'm not strong. It coud have been anybody. But it just randomly happens to be me.

I'm really struggling with this. It's changed my world view, my beliefs. Everything.

My 2nd ERPC and an interesting revelation.

I woke up yesterday morning not at all worried about my ERPC but rather the days, weeks and months that are to follow. What is a simple, painless operation when compared to the horrible emotional pain of the future? My first ERPC I was absolutely terrified. I'd never been under general anaesthetic before and the thought of never waking up again crossed my mind a few times. After the operation, I joked with the nurses that I'd like them to come and put me to sleep every night! What a wonder of modern medicine that stuff is- absolutely awesome.

After that first ERPC though, I was naive to what was to follow, and at that point I still had feelings of hope that I'd be pregnant again fairly soon and that this was just an anomaly, something that every woman goes through. Granted, I was upset, but the relief I felt once the operation was over and the ambivalent feelings I had immediately afterwards made me think that it wouldn't take me long to get over it- how wrong I was. A second consecutive miscarriage actually blows all that out of the water. I'm not stupid enough to think that, just because I feel okayish at the moment, that it's going to be like that in 2- 3 months time. I'm terrified of going back to that anxious and depressing time I was stuck in before.

Before I went down to theatre, I had several visitors- nurses, an anaesthetist, a registrar and a consultant. The registrar had said to me that I would be able to have blood tests given the circumstances of my miscarriages. But when the consultant who would perform the operation came down to me, she seemed confused as to why I would want the tests- 'it will probably be okay next time', and reminding me that the NHS don't usually test until there have been 3 consecutive miscarriages. Now anyone who has had a miscarriage will know that even one is enough to destroy you if you let it, 2 is unbearable- I wouldn't even like to imagine what 3 or more would do to a woman. I think the NHS do a fantastic job. For the second time, I could not fault them yesterday. I was treated with courtesy and care and looked after very well. But I think this whole policy on miscarriages just isn't right. To me 'probably' means nothing.

I have felt a lot groggier and 'spaced out' after this ERPC than the previous one, where I was back on my feet in no time. I woke up yesterday in the recovery room next to a little boy who was just coming round. I remember bursting into tears for this poor kid, saw the shadows of his parents moving into the room, then blacked out again. I woke up on the ward where my husband was waiting for me, had the best cup of tea I've ever had in my life, forced down a sandwich and was ready to go. The registrar came up and told me that there was a slight complication in that there was a 'laceration' on my womb which had been stitched up and that I would need antibiotics and a suppository to ensure it didn't get infected. I was assured that I wouldn't be affected by it, and it wouldn't jeopardise a future pregnancy.

Another MMC...

Title says it all.
I haven't posted for a while as I'd found out I was pregnant on the 15th August and didn't want to jinx the pregnancy by talking about it. That plan clearly didn't work.

Due to a possible progesterone problem, I'd been given progesterone pessaries to use up to 12 weeks. I had a scan at 5 weeks, everything good. Then a scan at 6 weeks, everything good, and a heartbeat! DH didn't want me to have another scan until my 12 week dating scan, but last week I started to feel very anxious and ill at ease and didn't feel like I wanted to wait the 3 weeks til my dating scan. With little J, I had a very sicky pregnancy. She really knocked me about, but this pregnancy, like the last, was sickness and nausea free. Despite people telling me 'every pregnancy is different', something didnt sit quite right.

However, I had been bouyed up by the statistics- it's hugely unlikely to have 2 miscarriages in a row. So off I went yesterday to a private clinic where i was told the bad news. I knew by their silence that it wasn't good. Two sonographers and a consultant confirmed what had happened and I just lay there and sobbed. My first thoughts were, 'how the hell am I going to get through this again?'

The last few months have been the worst of my life. The month that I chilled out, thought perhaps I'd stick with one child, was the month I got pregnant. And now I've lost it again. Why do that to me? If i'm not capable of having another child, then why did my body play another cruel trick on me and land me straight back to square one? Not just that, but by a cruel twist of fate, a very very close friend of mine is just a couple of weeks ahead of what I would have been, having a normal, healthy pregnancy. For the second time, I am forced to sit and watch.

I've been to the EPAU at my local hospital today and luckily I can get in for an ERPC tomorrow morning. Last time, I was terrified of going under general anaesthetic. This time, I think I will be grateful for the oblivion it provides. And I also know that the ERPC process is less painful and traumatic than the emotional recovery in the months that follow. I fear for myself. I had begun to take strides towards recovery, was beginning to enjoy life again. I was finding some meaning from what had been an horrific experience. What the fuck am I supposed to learn from having it happen twice? What kind of a 'message' am I supposed to take from this, other than a big 'fuck you' from the universe? I guess one thing I have learned is that hope is dangerous.

Another thing that plays on my mind is the number of coincidences:
My last MMC was discovered on 1st March.
This MMC was discovered on 1st October.
My last MMC, the dating scan was 2 months exactly after discovering I was pregnant. Same with this one. My last MMC, the dating scan was due to take place when I would be exactly 12+2- so was this one- on the same day of the week at exactly the same time.

There is no longer the urge to be pregnant again straight away, like there was after the last MMC. I think it would be incredibly foolish to do this when I don't know for certain there isn't something wrong. Given the fact that I was under the care of a fertility clinic, it was hinted today that the consultant may decide to do some tests. I hope this is the case as I need answers. If not, we will have a long hard think about whether it warrants private testing or whether we should accept our lot and be grateful for the wonderful, healthy daughter that we have.

This time, I announced on Facebook; some might question this decision, but I did it for several reasons. People that know usually think twice about what they say to people. Being able to talk about it openly actually helps me. People have messaged me privately to tell me that they, too, have been in the same situation.

I know no-one in real life (until now) that had had 2 miscarriages in a row. Again, i'm faced with people that don't say ANYTHING. I try not to get upset about that, I know that sometimes people don't know what to say. But once again I've been overwhelmed by the care shown to me by people I don't know, alongside my best friends. For those who have a problem with the sharing of my experiences- this isn't all about you. Be glad.

I will update you all when I have more to tell. Thank you for your support. You can't know how much it means, and you've kept me afloat.