"I love you too much."

So, I had my insulin resistance test this week. I got a call on Thursday saying that my results had come in and that I WAS insulin resistant and the RE wanted me in to "discuss treatment". Great, awesome. Never mind the fact that while I was there for that I finally got the results from the last time I was there. (I guess I missed their call and had no missed calls because of shitty cell reception? I don't know. Lesson learned: badger the office after 2 days.) Everything was normal, except... I have a vaginal infection. I think it was bacterial vaginosis, but I can't really be sure of what she said. I'll ask at my appointment on Tuesday. Anyway, I got antibiotics for that. The only other issue was that my testosterone was, "high normal". I just want to know where the damn infection came from, how long I've had it, and if it's a huge deal. Of course, my mind jumps to, "yep, it has wreaked havoc throughout your reproductive tract and you're full of scar tissue. give up." The nurse acted like it was no big deal (aside from telling me REPEATEDLY that this was NOT an STD lol), but in my own usual fashion I'm freaking out about it.

Back to the insulin resistance, though. I can't help but be upset about it. I have no idea what it means for me, and I know a lot of people are insulin resistant and are given Metformin and go on to be perfectly fine and conceive and all... but that's generally in women with PCOS. I don't have cystic ovaries, but now we know that I'm insulin resistant and I have "high normal" testosterone, so it seems like my blood work points to PCOS without the cystic ovaries. I don't know. I guess I'll know more on Tuesday.

I can't help but feel stressed out and completely overwhelmed. A huge part of me feels like giving up right now. I'm overweight, out of shape, and now I know I'm insulin resistant. I just feel like maybe we should take a break for a year or so and let me work on losing a billion pounds before we tackle this whole trying to conceive thing.

J is upset with me. I told him tonight I just wanted to give up, I don't want to try anymore and I just need a break. The Clomid is making me incredibly moody and emotional anyway, so I've been a real peach to be around the past few days, on top of being upset about the news from the doctor. He just sort of shook his head and told me it'd be fine, that I was just upset and I didn't really mean it. I said I did mean it, that I was really done with all of this. He didn't say much more about it and ended up going to bed early. I went to lay down with him and he hugged me and kissed me and said, "I love you too much." So, naturally, I had to start crying. I'm so thankful for him. I have no idea how I could do this without his support.

Unplanned Doesn't Mean Unwanted

This is something that I wrote a few months after my loss and posted anonymously, later to be sent to my mother in law. I debated on posting it here. It's very personal and reading it over again makes me feel so raw, but maybe it can help someone understand.

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The emotions felt when we found out I was pregnant are something I've written about previously, before my loss. I won't go back into them now, but they do exist in a tangible place outside of my mind. We were completely thrilled and overjoyed, to put it very simply.

 I started spotting the day after my positive test, and despite my best efforts not to worry, I worried. How could I not? The spotting started on a monday and by saturday evening I was in a substantial amount of pain and the bleeding was changing colors. Red, fresh blood. J made me take it easy that evening and did everything he could to make me comfortable. Backrubs, warm compresses, encouraging words, you name it. Around 11PM he suggested a warm bath and some music, for the relaxation if anything. He ran the water and I humored him, though I really didn't feel like moving. Afterwards, I went to use the restroom and well, there it was... Tissue. At this point, I knew what I'd already known; I screamed. Despite all the mental preparation I'd done, I was still in shock. J's face was nearly translucent and before I knew it his shoes were on and he was hurling my clothes at me. We were going to the ER, he said. I begged and pleaded not to go. I knew what was happening and I knew they could not stop it. I didn't have insurance and I knew the last thing we needed was a medical bill. "It's for your peace of mind," he said. In his mind, I think he really thought our baby was fine. I feebily tried to argue one last time, but I knew it was futile. 

I got dressed and called my Mom. She'd been checking in all evening and I wanted to let her know we were going. It was midnight by this point and raining out. The entire car ride I tried to brace J for the news I knew we'd get. "I know you want everything to be okay, and I do, too... but we both need to be prepared for the fact that everything might not be, okay?" Again, he shook his head. "Our baby is fine, you'll see, " and he squeezed my hand.

Once we arrived at the ER, our butts had no sooner touched the seats when they called me back for vitals. Shortly after that, we were in a room and I was in a dreaded hospital gown. We watched TV and I tried to remain upbeat. Half an hour or so later, the doctor came in and idly poked and prodded on my tummy before disappearing again. A few minutes later, a nurse came in and informed me that the doctor wanted me to have a straight catheter done for a urine sample, blood drawn, and an IV of fluids put in place. First of all, I hate needles. Secondly, a catheter?! Regardless of how much I didn't want it all to happen, it did. I tried to tell myself all of this wouldn't be for nothing and it would pay off, maybe our baby was fine after all. I was making deals with myself at this point. Hours went by and by 2:30AM I was nodding off. Sometimes I'd open my eyes and J would be sitting there, visibly exhausted but still vigilant and strong. He never complained in the slightest, just held my hand and rubbed my back and eventually I fell completely asleep. At 4AM the doctor came in to give us the news. J gently shook me a few times, and no sooner than my eyes flicked open did I have a doctor in my face. "Your blood levels came back, your HCG is at a 37. At 6 weeks you should be 7,000 at the very least. Unless your calculations are off, you are definitely miscarrying. I've prescribed you some prenatal vitamins tha-" At this point, I cut him off; I was angry. How dare he come in here and tell me I'm losing my baby so matter-of-factly? He could have at least waited until I was fully awake to start spewing his words. "If I'm losing my baby, why would you prescribe me prenatals," I asked in a snarky tone. "Well, because regardless of how viable the pregnancy is, it still takes a lot out of your body and you'll need to replace these things to keep your body balanced and to help you get pregnant again." I simply nodded, I knew if I opened my mouth I'd begin to sob. He walked out and I sat up in the bed, looking over at J. He looked like he'd been hit by a truck, and for this very reason I avoided looking at him. I didn't want to cry, not there. I got angry that no one was showing up with my discharge papers immediately. My baby was gone and I just wanted to be back at home. I wanted to cry and scream and kick. I was 5 seconds away from removing the IV myself and getting dressed when the nurse came in. She had no idea what my levels were, and I can only assume that she could tell how upset we were by the looks on our faces because she said, "Oh, what's wrong? It's okay." I shook my head and just started bawling. I was discharged with a "threatened miscarriage", so I guess she thought we still had a chance. She tried to console us both. I'm thankful for her, she made the whole experience much better than that heartless doctor. 

We walked out and I nearly sprinted to the car. I knew once I was there I was safe, I could really cry. No sooner than my door had shut did the tears and screams come. I'm sure anyone in that parking garage could have heard me, but I didn't care. The car ride home was hard. Neither of us knew what to say to each other and in those first few minutes I was irrationally angry at J. How dare he tell me everything was fine? It obviously wasn't. Obviously this rationale was silly, but I was hormonal and my heart was shattered and blame came easily. 

Once we got home I sat down on the couch in a daze and J took his seat next to me. I told him to go to bed, that I'd be fine. It was 5AM and he needed to sleep. He refused to go to bed, he wasn't leaving me. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I got up and agreed to go lay down. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead and I buried my face in his chest and the tears came again, only this time they weren't so angry. I screamed out unintelligible half-sentences and heaved and bawled for a good twenty minutes before I had nothing left to give. J tried to console me and mentioned that we could try again. Try again? This was the third time I'd heard that tonight. How could I even think about that? I never wanted to be pregnant again. I never wanted to feel this pain again in my whole entire life, I just couldn't bear it. 

When I woke up I'd hoped it was all just a really bad dream. It wasn't. The discharge papers sat on the table next to my laptop, a painful reminder I wished I hadn't brought inside. I went into that hospital with the tiniest shred of hope and came out completely crushed with a hopsital bill headed my way to boot. The following weeks were hard. The follow up appointments came, the first of which giving me yet another false sliver of hope. My urine test was still positive almost two weeks later, maybe I didn't miscarry after all! A blood test was taken that day and when I got the results the next day the loss was confirmed. Almost a month exactly after my miscarriage I went for another follow up, this time with my OB-GYN where I received my first ultrasound. It seemed a little cruel, really. Sitting in that office with pregnant women, getting my first ultrasound not to confirm I had a beautiful baby, but to confirm that all traces of my baby were gone from my womb forever. 

Losing our first baby taught us valuable lessons and changed us in many ways, all for the better. Seeing the love J had for that little bean was indescribable, he really is the wonderful Dad I always knew he would be.

We'll catch a rainbow someday.

RE Appointment - The first step!

I met with an RE this past Thursday. For anyone who doesn't know what an RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist) is, they're essentially an OB-GYN with additional training who specializes in fertility. Despite me being quite nervous, the appointment went well. I'd originally intended to go just because I was incredibly worried I might be having some sort of issue with my reproductive parts (see: ovaries) and they also specialized in pelvic pain, so why not? I had a good idea that fertility treatments would come up, and J and I had discussed it. I was alright with waiting it out for a bit longer naturally, provided everything was "okay" down there. He, however, was not and expressed great interest in doing whatever we could to speed the process along - costly or not. Multiples or not (Twins, please!). I'm getting as impatient as he's BEEN, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and we are starting our very first Clomid cycle!

I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, though. As for the appointment itself, they did your standard stuff. I had a physical, blood work, a pap smear, and a transvaginal ultrasound to check out my uterus and ovaries. The practitioner called my ovaries and uterus "beautiful" and let's just say I nearly came off the table. I was so sure everything was so messed up down there that it caught me by complete surprise that not only did everything appear to be okay, but "beautiful" to boot. The blood work was to test my thyroid, an ovarian cancer/endometriosis screening, as well as a plethora of other hormones. I haven't gotten the results back from that yet, but I'm feeling confident. I'm a little worried about the cancer/endometriosis screening, but the RE said multiple times that he felt like both of those were extremely unlikely, so that helps a little. I know everything else should be able to be fixed somewhat easily if something is a bit off, so I'm alright. I'm also waiting on the results of my pap, but I'm not too awfully concerned there, either. Being worried isn't going to get me anywhere, anyway. I feel very confident that I'm in good hands and we're beyond blessed with excellent healthcare and the financial means to treat an issue, and for that I am so grateful. I go back for an insulin dynamics test on the 22nd... that should be fun. I was given an injection to jump start my next cycle, and once that begins I will start taking the Clomid. Once I get a positive OPK, I go in the next day for a post coital test to ensure that my cervical fluid is hospitable for the swimmers. A week from there, I go back to have my progesterone checked to figure out the quality of my ovulation and whether or not I may need progesterone supplements. As far as the pain goes, he said it was possible my miscarriage was a tubal that self resolved and the scar tissue is giving me trouble. He didn't seem too terribly concerned, so I'm not either. If I'm not pregnant in a few cycles, we'll move towards doing an HSG to check my tubes, but he said given my age and seemingly healthy reproductive system he didn't want to do that unless it seemed necessary. I'm fine with that. J has to do a semen analysis, just to be sure. No point in working on me so much if there's a male factor involved that needs to be addressed. I find that highly doubtful, considering our miscarried pregnancy happened from one time, but you never know and it doesn't hurt to check. It's nearly a two hour drive there, and even with insurance it isn't like these visits are free, but it could certainly be a whole heck of a lot worse.

So this is where we are today. Today was my due date for the baby I lost, and honestly I expected to be in absolute shambles today. Surprisingly, however, I'm not. I've come to terms with it for the most part, and I know that it's highly unlikely that I would have given birth this day anyway. I'm extremely excited to be moving forward and working towards our rainbow baby (babies?). I will never forget my first pregnancy, but I can't change the outcome and the only thing I can do is move forward. I'm really hoping that I won't have to dedicate a whole lot of this blog to the rest of my journey with GETTING pregnant, but that I can talk about BEING pregnant. I know that there are others who have tried so much longer than I have and who have endured so much, but for me eight months feels like a lifetime. We've wanted kids for SO LONG and now that we're in a place to have one, it's so frustrating to not have that. I know that once our baby gets here we'll be SO appreciative of him/her/them and it will all have been worth it. I never thought I would be in this position. I never thought I would be having to involve doctors and paying to get pregnant, but I'm still so thankful that we have the means to do so. Even in an unfortunate situation, there are things to be thankful for.