Also, in other fun news, I am getting sicker. Light buzz in the background? Not so much anymore. Last night I could barely swallow because it hurt so much every time I tried, today my sinuses are clogged so I can hardly breathe, and the combination makes me sound like a frog. I’m using some Tylenol cold and cough syrup stuff that seems to work well, but I think the length of time the effects last gets shorter each time.

And now? Late at night? My stomach is upset. Very upset. Lots of gurgling and gas and it’s actually moderately painful at times.

Sleeping is very difficult when you can’t breathe, can’t swallow, and your stomach is rumbling aggressively. I’m actually not quite sure how I’m going to manage this.

Ugh, I hate this! I very rarely get sick, so when I do I’m not just miserable, but I’m pissed off!

I had been really looking forward to the fourth of july party (which takes place on the fifth). It’s a yearly event at a friend’s place, a huge party with lots of food, drink, entertainment, a pool to swim in, and many friends. I have some vodka and kahlua left and I was eagerly looking forward to using it all up - and then some. And just having a good time. Out with the adults, forgetting my life.

Then yesterday Den mentioned offhand that SIL, BIL and BabyH would be there. I remember her mentioning two weeks ago that they were going to come. Usually I love seeing them.

But suddenly it all crashed down on me. This party, this big yearly event… I had been saying my entire pregnancy how this year we’d be bringing a baby. I was so excited. This was the year it was all going to be different… a family, with a little one to splash in the pool. I was so very excited to show him off and just enjoy a simple day out like I had been dreaming off for years. I had even mentally put aside an outfit for him - a gift outfit, which I wasn’t sure if he would fit into yet. A baseball outfit. Daddy’s All Star.

That won’t be happening now. SIL and BIL will have their new daughter to show off. Everyone will be ooing over the newborn. I can handle seeing them, I can handle seeing the baby, but I cannot handle seeing everyone fawn over the baby. That is absolutely the thing I have dreaded most about BabyH’s arrival, and why I timed our visits not to coincide with crowds. I can’t handle that, I just can’t.

The last party, a few weeks ago, we saw some friends of ours whom we haven’t seen in half a year. Friends who last saw me pregnant; friends who obviously knew what happened. But they didn’t say a word. Yes, they greeted me with, “How are ya?” which might have - or might not have - been an inquiry into my state of things. But it very likely was just the same greeting I get every time. And I know I shouldn’t blame people for not wanting to bring it up, but there is something so damn frustrating about having people KNOW and yet not acknowledge it. At that same party someone I barely know asked if we have any kids yet, and I quietly told him what had happened. He seemed quite upset, said he was sorry. Was it emotional to tell the story? Yes. But even that was easier than not having said anything at all.

I’m fine with answering direct questions, even ones from people who know nothing and are hardly expecting the kind of answer I give. But I guess I just don’t know how to bring it up. “Hi. Yes, my baby died, I’m okay talking about it,” seems a little… crude.

So I fell apart tonight a little. It all just came bubbling up from the depths, crying for what should have been. It’s been weeks since I really cried… I think I needed it. There’s only so much I can do just holding it together, getting through the daily shit. Some days, some nights, I just have to scream inside my head a little, wishing my life were different. I still find myself wishing fervently that we could go back and fix this… wishing I would wake up now. I’m supposed to be holding a baby with chubby little arms and legs, soft skin, downy hair. MY baby. My own. I’m supposed to be joyful and fulfilled. I am not supposed to be looking forward to a party so I can get drunk and forget all about the last shitty 4 months of my life.

It all just seems so fucking unfair I can’t even stand it. And it feels, too, like I’m dealing with two separate griefs piled on top of each other: the grief of having lost a son that I carried in my womb for 8 months, a boy with personality, a name, a future. And also the grief of this being another year of being childless, another year spent wondering if we are ever going to have this which we want so desperately. The loss and the infertility. I can handle either separately… but both together feels like far too much. Too much for any one person. I can deal with this loss if I knew I was going to be pregnant again soon, to have another chance… but there are no guarantees. Not for anyone, certainly not for an infertile.

Childless, not pregnant, and desperately missing my son. Happy July 4th to me.

Today I got in the mail a notice from FirstCandle that several online friends of mine made a donation to stillbirth research in Devin’s memory. Thank you, girls!! I have looked at March of Dimes, knowing that many people choose to donate to them. I was looking for something that did more for stillbirth reserach, however. And you girls seem to have found what I was looking for, without me saying a word. That means so very much.

::

I’ve been thinking about my SIL a lot. I haven’t talked to her since the last time I went over there, which was over 2 weeks ago. At first it was because I wanted to give them space… then I realized I needed to give me space. It was a heck of a lot easier on me to just not think about them. I tried hard those first two weeks of BabyH’s life… I tried really hard. I got through it, I dealt with a lot of grief issues, I cried a lot. And then I just needed a break.

But now I’m feeling guilty. I know they understand why, but… I’m sad. SIL is a friend and I don’t like avoiding her. Of course today, the day that I start really feeling like I could or should go over there I can’t - I’m sick. No going near baby. So I’ll just have to wait a little longer.

::

I’m in a kind of crappy place of thinking maybe I am pregnant. I say crappy because what I REALLy want to do is shove my fingers in my ears and say LALALA until such time as I get a positive pregnancy test and can celebrate. Until that point all I have to look forward to is the building hope every cycle, and then the punch in the gut at the end of it. I’d found a nice zen place to be, but it’s getting harder and harder to just let it go. I WANT this. And when you WANT something it hurts when you don’t have it. Sometimes I really hate hope.

So the last time I wrote about the dentist was when I had my oral exam. The story continues from there.

I made an appointment for the cavities to get filled and for a tooth cleaning (separate appointments). I got nervous the day of the cavity filling (May 27) when I still hadn’t received my dental insurance card yet. I called and found out I wasn’t enrolled. WHAT?!?! was my reaction, since my hubby had called back at the end of APRIL to sign me up. Spoke with someone on the phone, paid them money to get me signed up, was told it was all set. And they screwed up. I got all that straightened out on the phone only to be told that the earliest they could (or would) backdate my insurance was June 1. Apparently, even had it gotten set up correctly when Den did it, it wouldn’t have started coverage until June 1 - a fact they neglected to tell my husband.

So I got three cavities filled that day, and none of it was covered by insurance.

I still had to make an appointment for a surgeon to get my wisdom teeth taken out. I want it to be done as soon as possible, given my month-to-month status of being un-pregnant. I booked an appointment with the surgeon my dentist recommended, got my x-ray taken, booked the surgery date… and found out they don’t take our insurance. Or, rather, they’re not “in-network.” Which means insurance covers only so much, we’d have to pay the rest. turns out it’s a difference of about $200 extra we’d have to pay, just to go to this dentist over an in-network dentist. Considering the money we just spent on my damn fillings, that is $200 we don’t have.

I did print off a list from our insurance of oral surgeons that ARE covered and asked my dentist who she’d recommend from the list. Today I called to make an appointment. Yep, as expected, I have to have another consultation before booking the surgery. I can get the x-ray sent over though. And the best part? The earliest they’re booking is end of August. 2 months away. Fucking hell.

I’m paying money and jumping through hoops just to get something done that I am dreading. It’s starting to feel to me like it’s just not going to work out. I’ll keep the appointment… if I’m not pregnant. If I am we’ll have to wait another year to try this all again. (I honestly don’t know what type of surgery is safe during pregnancy, but given my emotional state of paranoia surrounding the whole thing I’m not going to take chances for an elective surgery.)

I am SO frustrated by all of this. How come dental insurance sucks so freaking bad? I have great health insurance for everything from my depression to gynelogical health and preventative care… but getting my teeth healthy is apparently not important enough? By the end of getting my wisdom teeth pulled and my cavities filled we’ll have paid out of pocket over $1000. And did you know that periodontal disease has been linked with preterm and low birth-weight babies? This is part of the reason I decided I needed to take care of my teeth, regardless of the cost: the health of your teeth and gums is a part of the balance in your body, and it can and does affect your health in other ways. So WHY does it fall outside health insurance?! Why isn’t it considered important enough to ensure that people get proper care?

Arrrgggggg.

I have been in a bad mood all week, it seems. Online I’m mostly able to take a breath and walk off, but in person I’m not so lucky. Den’s gotten his head bitten off so many times I’m surprized he’s still able to re-attach it. Every little thing just BUGS me. Him leaving an empty envelope on my desk? CAUSE FOR FREAK-OUT.

I do not LIKE feeling like this. I feel pretty miserable, in fact. I alternate between wanting to bawl hysterically and wanting to ream someone out. The only thing not upsetting me in some way or another is Lost, and I’ve been watching episode after episode (I’m on Season 3 now). I mean, I love the show and all but I’d be fine with doing only one or two episodes a day… if I had something else to do that didn’t make me freak out.

And then with being sick on top of my crap mood (or maybe being sick is throwing my mood), I’m not feeling too great physically either. The combo is making me even crankier. I’m not even sick enough to deserve being called sick…. my voice sounds a little froggy and it hurts now and then. And something just feels off. It’s like a light buzzing in the background… irritating and kind of gets in the way of doing normal day to day stuff, but not enough to knock you down for the count or anything.

And also? I’m annoyed that sleeping pills don’t work for me. Drowsy, my ass.

I’d say more, but it would just degenerate into a rant of epic proportions.

I keep talking about birth as an experience, as a pivotal life-changing event in a family, in a woman’s life, and how important it is to preserve a woman’s right to choose the manner and place of her birth. Here’s your chance to voice it, to fight for it. Please sign the petition to prevent the AMA and ACOG from making homebirth illegal.
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/birthathome/

::

I received this in a group email, and it is a very good read.

The Sick is still not getting better. In fact, it is getting worse. I woke up this morning feeling like something had died in my throat. Luckily that did not stick around all day (why are sore throats always worse in the mornings?), but the body aches did. Ugh. I’ve had the kind of flu where you’re puking and snotty, but I never really understood the whole “body ache” thing. It’s so weird. It’s kind of like I over-exercised except, well, I didn’t exercise. And it’s weird parts like my sides and lower back. My legs started aching when I went to bed, too. The being stuffed up, though, that feels normal. I guess I just kind of got used to that during pregnancy… it’s felt very strange the last few months to be able to breathe clearly.

And no, I don’t think I’m pregnant. Just a damn virus.

::

I was laying here in bed thinking about autopsy results. I realized just how much knowing what happened to Devin has helped me work through things. Knowing that it was a freak accident, I don’t spend time worrying about it happening again. After he died I really worried that it was a cord accident… that me waking up on my back had killed my baby. I felt so much guilt, wondering if something I had done had caused this. It was such a relief, in a way, to know that there was nothing to be done… nothing to be seen, nothing to be prevented. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this, save for delivering him early. And without any way of knowing something was wrong, that was never even a consideration.

I was thinking about how in as much as half of stillbirth cases no one can determine the cause. That would SUCK so bad. I think I’d drive myself mad with the what-ifs… and the fear, oh the fear. If I thought it was something that could easily happen again, like a simple cord accident? Or something unknown that took my baby? Going through it again would be more than terrifying… it would be just waiting for it to happen again. Not that I won’t be scared out of my wits. But it’s different. I have some sense of reassurance.

::

My mind also drifts to the way we have Devin around us. I think we have something of Devin’s in every room - not intentionally, but it just turned out that way. I always figured that would be upsetting, but it seems kind of normal now to have his memorial quilt hanging above my bed, his photos in my living room. Even things that were unintentional, like the still-in-a-box crib that still rests against the wall in Den’s office. We don’t really have anywhere to put it, so it stays there. And it just seems normal to have it there, waiting for the next time. I feel comforted by these things.

Our house has not become a museum, like Den feared. It is not ALL Devin… but he is simply sprinkled throughout, as if it’s natural to have a photo of my pregnancy beside a wedding photo. And it is. We’ve adapted to our new normal.

We talk of the “next kid” and reference our “living children” when talking about plans. There is Devin, and there will be more.

And there will always be space for Devin’s things on the wall.

As always, all you loss mamas out there please join in.

1 | How would you describe your relationship to fear before and after the loss of your baby?
Before: Fear was paranoia, distant. Small jitters, easily brushed aside. Now: Fear is real, up close and personal. It is overwhelming, suffocating. It is believable.

2 | Is your lost baby/are your babies present in your life? In what way?
Yes. There are “things” everywhere: his tree in our yard, his photo on my shelf and computer wallpaper, his handprints on my wall, his quilt on my wall, his memory box out in the open. And yet it too frequently feels like a daydream that I’m clinging to - a memory that lingers.

3 | Tell us about something said or done after your loss that left you feeling nurtured or supported.
All the people who wept, who said simply, “I’m sorry” - the shock and horror and massive chaos that followed his death. It wasn’t really words, it was the reactions. The “Oh my god”s.

4 | Tell us about something said or done after your loss that left you feeling marginalized or misunderstood.
I thankfully had very few of these. But the one that stands out in my memory is a seriously misguided attempt at humor, saying, “Well at least you can have lots of sex!” And the implication that we could always just have another.

5 | What’s taken you a long time to do again? How did it feel, if you have?
To go back to the chiropractor. I don’t know why that one has been so hard… at first it was because I didn’t want to have to tell them. Now they all know and I still haven’t gone back. I just keep making excuses.

6 | How would you describe yourself as a partner before, and after?
Before: Demanding, self-absorbed. After: Softer, more empathetic, more sorrowful. I have this need to take his hurt away.

Last night I didn’t sleep very well. I went to bed when Den did, which is to say I turned off my laptop and attempted to sleep. Attempted being the case. It wasn’t even that I wasn’t tired, or that I wasn’t almost falling asleep… it was that my mind kept drifting back to that day. That morning. That ultrasound. Why I was thinking about it, I just don’t know. But all night, over and over again the phone calls, the picture, the feeling of walking around with the weight of the earth pulling at my belly, my dead baby inside. I normally don’t fixate like that… I have lots of fleeting thoughts, memories, sure… but normally I can acknowledge them and let them go. Last night I just could not.

I wasn’t sad so much as I was… anxious. I could feel myself floating right near the edge of a panic attack. I could feel the anxiety pressing in on me. I guess, maybe what was worst for me wasn’t the knowledge that my baby was gone… but rather that time of transition, of upheaval… imminent death. When my mind is replaying those scenes it takes me back there while a voice is saying, God no, not again.

I finally did fall asleep, and I thought that would be the end of it… but no. I woke up half an hour before my alarm was set to go off, my brain still swirling. I just felt like crying at that point… not out of grief, but out of frustration. I did go to work and got some things done, but not only was my heart not in it, my brain was nowhere to be found. I was tired, frustrated, on edge. I went home early, knowing I’d have to go back in tomorrow to finish everything I didn’t get done.

And here it is, 2:40am. Still awake. I’m a little bit tired (I was exhausted all day, then night comes around and I’m right back where I started). But I think the main thing preventing me from turning off this computer and trying to sleep is the fear that those thoughts will all come crashing down on me again. And I just really really don’t want another night like that.

I’m not one to be at all fond of medication - in fact, I don’t ever recall a time, other than when I was ill, when I wished I had a sleeping pill to take. Tonight I do. I need some damn sleep… the peaceful, restful kind… not the kind that leaves you wishing you were still unconcious.

I really want to go back to the RE.

But it’s not why you think. I’m actually perfectly fine with waiting out these natural cycles, and with our insurance deficiency we couldn’t start IVF right now anyways - which is why I’ve been putting off making an appointment. It seems silly to go if you can’t or won’t do anything, right?

Yeah, well, I find myself getting exceedingly frustrated because I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m sure everyone who has dealt with an “unexplained infertility” diagnosis can understand that one. Not knowing is torture. But with us… when we did our second IVF cycle, with ICSI, we got some light shining on it. “Finally!” I said. “At least we know what’s wrong!”

Thing is, I’m extremely unclear as to what the issue is. I google “low ferilization” and “immature eggs” and many other terms and I still can’t seem to find any similar cases or explanations as to what the hell happened. When I’m talking about our IVF experience people say, “So it was your egg quality then?” And I don’t know what to say. Maybe? But every time I look up poor egg quality I get articles that involve high FSH levels and a high FSH:LH ratio. I didn’t have that. My FSH levels were a little on the higher side, but firmly within the “good” ranking. And my ratio was very close to 1:1. Neither of which indicate any kind of egg quality problem.

Low fertilization… well that just gets me a bunch of articles about how great ICSI is. And one article mentioning how if the ICSI fertilization rate is poor then it suggests an egg quality problem. But then it defines poor ICSI fertilization as the number of fertilized eggs out of the number that were injected. Well, we had one injected, one fertilized.

That would lead me to conclude that the conclusion that the first IVF was also mis-labeled. 24 eggs, 2 fertilized - they said poor fertilization. But only 4 eggs were mature, 2 of which were “dead”! Only 2 would have been ICSI’d. So doesn’t that lead to the same conclusion? NOT a fertilization problem?

Which brings me round to poor egg stimulation, poor egg maturity. Different than egg QUALITY by far. That suggests that it was the stimulation protocol used during IVF that caused the poor “fertilization rate”s and all that crap. But the flip side of that is this one little niggling problem: that doesn’t explain why we’re infertile!!! ALL that explains is why the IVF didn’t go well. It was a medication problem, a protocol problem NOT an inherent problem that happened during my un-medicated cycles. So what, does this mean I’m still unexplained? Just bad luck?

So yeah, I want to go sit down with one of the REs, just to say, “Okay, please explain to me what the fuck happened, why it happened, and what we can do to fix it.” I’m probably going to make an appointment soon. I’ll probably wait until after AF shows to make it, though. I do this every month. Maybe I should just make it now. Lady Luck likes irony.

::

Pee sticks? Still pretty dark. I’m getting pissed at them. It showed a surge, then won’t go back down. I thought it was, yesterday… then today it’s still dark. I started fretting, did I even ovulate? I felt “ovulation” pains, but like others have said, it could - and probably was - my ovaries gearing up to ovulate, not actually doing it. And I’ve had aching since… that could mean either that I ovulated, or that it’s still dicking around in there. I started thinking damnit, maybe I should chart just to figure out what the hell my body is doing and to confirm that it’s actually ovulating.

Then I realized, check my CM. Duh. No fertile CM at all, cervix is high (it was very low). Is it a smoking gun? No. No guarantee. But it’s enough to make me stop fretting, and that’s good enough for me.