Hey, remember me? It’s been awhile…

Posted on by

0

Hi friends! Sorry I disappeared. I honestly didn’t know how or what to write. In the last two years. There has been so much anguish, grief, desperation. But also so much love, hope, and determination.

Big news first:

My boys have a sister. A beautiful little girl born last month via surrogate. Our journey was so beautiful, albeit difficult but I’m so content and my heart is so full right now that all the fear and anxiety has just melted away.

We ended up signing on to an agency in March 2019. It only took four months for us to receive an email titled: “Carrier Match.” I clicked on the email, unsure what to expect, but preparing to be disappointed. I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case the match didn’t work out. The surrogate was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more. We quickly set up a call and within moments had mutually agreed to the match.

Over the course of the next three months we spoke constantly and got to know each other. We shared hopes and dreams, fears and expectations. With each call we realized just how well we had been matched. I could not have imagined a better person to carry my baby.

In September we finally met in person, when she came over for the transfer. I think we were both prepared for some awkwardness, and pleasantly surprised when there was none. The transfer was perfect. The embryo had thawed at close to 100%. She and her mother came over for dinner after transfer and prior to her departure for her home state.

A few days later, she sent me a picture of a test. A very faint pink line. I kept my hopes in check, out of fear that the line would disappear. I never thought I would be lucky enough for a transfer to work on the very first time. But it did. With every test, the line color deepened and the betas that followed were picture perfect. I started to allow myself to believe that we were actually pregnant.

And then I got a call. “ Your surrogate called and told us she’s having a little bit of bleeding. We asked her not to call you, as we wanted to speak with you first. We told her what to do and to take it easy. We’re not concerned at this point but we just wanted to let you know.” My heart dropped. I was so sure we were going to miscarry.

But we didn’t. The first ultrasound showed a beautiful little baby with a strong heartbeat. Over the course of the next few weeks, the baby grew bigger and the heartbeat grew stronger, but the bleeding also got heavier. She called me around Thanksgiving to tell me she was going into the ER. She was bleeding very heavily, lots of clots, and was cramping. I offered my support, but my heart was heavy. I was so thrilled to be wrong again. The ultrasound proved our little baby was a fighter. Her heart was thumping away, and the SCH that had been stubbornly resistant to absorption continued to actively stress us out. Eventually the bleeding tapered off and we thought we could finally enjoy the pregnancy.

At the 20 week ultrasound, it was apparent that the SCH has not disappeared but grown in size. It was now 6 cm and had caused a partial placental abruption. The amniotic fluid was full of debris (blood clots) and on the low side. Our only glimmer of hope is that our baby continues to thrive. My surrogate cried. The doctors gave us 50-50 odds of making it to term.

We were referred to the MFM who gave us the same bleak outlook. They suggested our surrogate pack a hospital bag because the most common complication of active bleeding this late in pregnancy is PPROM. We agonized, we stressed, we made emergency plans. (All of which were rapidly complicated by Covid). At every ultrasound, baby kept defeating the odds, getting bigger and stronger. Her fluid increased and eventually at 28 weeks the SCH resolved.

I would like to say it was smooth sailing from there on, but it wasn’t. We had growth scares. We had ultrasound scares (calcification in abdomen). We had early delivery scares (bulging bag). Somehow, still not sure how, we made it to 37 weeks and 6 days. I made it to GC’s home state a mere 11 hours before she went into spontaneous labor. 8 hours later, my sweet girl made her way into the world alive and well. Despite Covid, the hospital allowed me to be present at the birth and sobbed, big-ugly-heaving-sobs, when I heard my sweet girl cry and saw her face. After, while I was doing skin-to-skin, the OB showed us the scar tissue on the placenta, it was almost half the placenta. The cord had also been impacted by the severity of the early bleeding and had been very “lean.” As I held her on my chest, I sobbed. She had survived a perfect storm of events.

I am forever indebted to my wonderful and selfless surrogate. I am lucky to call her a friend and to have her in my life. And I am lucky to get to be a mom again to his gorgeous sweet girl and am excited to see what the future holds for all of us.

What in the world

Posted on by

1

That is the question on my mind as I watch the pandemic unfolding. How? Why? What? Lather, rinse, repeat.

If you had told me 3 weeks ago that we would have to homeschool and stay home, I would probably have laughed and called you an alarmist.

I’m sorry. I’m not anymore.

But it’s a lot. Half the time I’m convinced I have the virus. (is that a tickle in my throat? Do I need to cough? Why can’t I take a deep breath?) The other half, I recognize the signs and symptoms of anxiety, and I know that’s what is currently ailing me.

But I’m so tired of it already. I want to fast-forward and be through/past this or be tested to know if do or don’t have it. But lack of testing is making it virtually impossible.

I’m losing my mind, one minute/hour/day at a time.

5 years

Posted on by

0

Dear Zeke,

5 years ago you made me a member of the worst club any pregnant woman can join. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I wanted to hold you in my arms alive and well. I dreamt of watching you grow up with A. I had visions of your life. It was full and oh-so-beautiful.

And yet, this is the best club that no one wants to join. The women who have been unfortunate enough to be awarded a membership, are fierce in every way that makes mom’s the powerhouses they are. The love with you. They weep alongside you. Your pain is their pain. They don’t judge you for feeling unwarranted anger or jealousy at an unsuspecting mother-to-be.

So while I wish I was still naive of this club’s existence, I don’t regret carrying you for one moment. If I knew that was the outcome of the pregnancy, I would still do it all over again.

I love you to the moon and back.

Happy 5th Stillbirthday sweet boy.

Braverman

Posted on by

1

I did it. I finally consulted with him and received my results. Well actually, I received them earlier this month and this post is overdue, but I needed time to process, because when Braverman tells you to consider surrogacy, then you know you’ve officially hit the end of the road. And that is hard to hear. Sure, I suspected that was the way we would eventually complete our family. And I am supremely grateful for the 3 perfect embryos I have banked. But a small part of me held on to hope that Dr. B would have an answer for me that would allow me to carry on my own. So finding out that we officially hit a non-escapable roadblock created a fresh wave of grief. Now, in addition to mourning my beautiful babies, I was also mourning the end of my pregnancies and the fact that I would never deliver a baby of my own again.

So anyway, here’s Dr. B’s assessment. My husband is homozygous for all Class II Alleles. I have developed an immune response to one in particular HLA-B*50. A high immune response is 10,000 and my numbers were 24,000. HLA-B*50 impacts the second trimester and the ability of the fetal-placental unit to avoid detection from the maternal immune system. In his words:

HLA-B antigens are not expressed on early stage embryos but are expressed at later stages of fetal development, and antibodies specific for paternally-derived HLA-B antigens are thought to contribute to the development of later pregnancy complications, including IUGR, preeclampsia, and preterm labor. MFI/MPFD has been associated with the presence of antibodies against paternally-derived HLA class I antigens (Romero, 2013).

The kicker is since the husband is homozygous of all of these alleles, there is no way to avoid them. 100% of our embryos are guaranteed to have the HLA-B*50 allele that immune system responds to. And while he offered the option to try IVIG and another medication, he wasn’t hopeful it would work.

I sent it to a friend who is a well-regarded geneticists and while she said his explanation was speculative (the research is lacking), she admitted it was indeed plausible (as there has been evidence of this in mice). And while I am not a mouse, I am convinced enough that I will be patient and wait for a surrogate to help us do the impossible and complete our family.

Learning to love your body again

Posted on by

0

Actually, to be fair I don’t think I’ve ever loved my body, and I spent a solid chunk of my pre-pubescent, adolescent, and young adult years uncomfortable in my own skin. Then I started running and we begrudgingly became friendly. I still didn’t love the way I looked but I now tolerated it better. I learned how to dress for my shape, and met a man who loved me and loved my body the way it was.

Then came motherhood. And I embraced the changes. I didn’t care about the weight gain, and welcomed the pounds as they got me closer to a healthy son. It took me the same 9 months to gain the weight as it took me to take it off again after he was born. I was too busily entrenched into the bliss of new motherhood to care about the extra pounds I continued to carry with me.

But then I lost Zeke. I left the hospital with empty arms, a soft belly, and extra pounds. And I begun to loathe my body again. It had failed me thoroughly and those extra pounds felt like a load of bricks weighing me down, reminding me of what I no longer had.

I packed on more pounds with IVF but those didn’t bother me so much because I was actively trying to conceive, and those pounds meant I was being proactive and on my way to getting a living, breathing baby. And I did. T was worth every extra pound I gained before and during our time together. And again, I didn’t care how fast or slow I gained or lost the weight because it had all been worth it.

After losing Rose and with her all hope of conceiving again, the hatred of my body gained momentum. So I bought a Pel.o.ton bike. It was expensive. And I started using it. It was hard and there were days I dreaded getting on. But each time I completed a program, I started regaining some confidence in myself. I regained some weight through my last IVF treatment, but I got right back on the bike. I am still self-conscious, and more days than not, I feel like my body let me down, but I am slowly starting to hate it a little less. Hopefully one day, we’ll be friends again. But for now?

Guess I’ll just keep spinning.

On loss, grief, and living

Posted on by

0

I’m currently taking a crisis intervention class, and as I slog through the readings, my eyes caught on the chapter on grief and loss, and especially the death of child. The authors mention that even 4+ years post-loss parents contine to suffer from severe separation distress and constant longing.

It is 100% true. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my babies. I may not have gotten to hold them, but that doesn’t make me miss them any less. They were and always will be a part of my family.

But I digress. As I move through the grieving process, it has come to my attention that I have developed an unhealthy new habit, which is a temptation to push the things I love away for fear of getting hurt. For instance, I am thinking of getting a puppy. It’s been 8 months since I said goodby to Cody and I feel like I can bear the idea of attaching myself to another pup. But then my other dog got a nose infection (no clue how and not serious at all) and I had to take her to the vet. And suddenly I saw the day I would have to say goodbye to her and it felt like someone threw a bucket of ice water over my head. I quickly backpedaled at the idea of a new dog. But now, I realized that my fear over loss is ruining my happiness. I should be enjoying my dog and not fearing the day I lose her. And I should enjoy the many years of unconditional love a puppy might give me, without automatically thinking of the day that will come that I will have to say goodbye. When I think back, I’m not sure I actually enjoyed a single day of my pregnancy with Rose. I lived in fear of losing her (which I did) and it didn’t make the loss any easier to bear.

So there you have my rambling introspections into loss, grief, and living again.

One step forward

Posted on by

0

And two steps back. Today, while waiting for my husband at the train station, I watched a woman at the park playing with her baby girl (around 10 months old if I had to take a guess). While that would normally have been enough to hurt my heart, she was also about 7-8 months pregnant.

I wish I were a better person than this. But, I’m not. I

Just over 6 weeks

Posted on by

0

It’s been just over 6 weeks since I let Rose go. Most days it still sucks. Most days I still feel the weight of all the babies I’ve had to say goodbye to, and it’s heavy on my heart.

So I’m trying to move forward the best way I know how.

  1. By being the best mom I can be to my living kids.
  2. I bought myself a Pel.oton and am working on getting back into shape, a slow and torturous process.
  3. I’m starting priming for a new IVF cycle.
  4. Today I have a consult with Dr. Braverman at his NYC office to see which way my case goes and to make sure that should we go the surrogacy route as planned, our problem will not recur there.

So onwards I trudge, somewhat wondering if 3 and 4 are worth it.

Heart to heart

Posted on by

1

My husband is my rock. I seriously would not have survived everything I/we have been through the last 5 years without him. But we have very different ways of coping. Whereas I need to talk, and talk, and talk, he need quiet. I have been trying to give him that space, which became significantly easier to do once my mom returned from abroad, as I now had someone to listen to me anytime I need to talk.

However, with a preliminary phone consult with a surrogacy agency taking place this afternoon (not a full consultation yet), I needed to make sure we were both on the same page, and that in my quest to fulfill my desire to have a third child, I wasn’t steamrolling him into a decision he wasn’t on board with. (It’s a family trait that when an idea takes root, we pursue it with singleminded focus.) Since surrogacy is a big deal, it became critical that we have this conversation no matter how uncomfortable it may be. That’s another thing with my husband, he is extremely un-confrontational, which, while beneficial to our relationship over the long term, allowing us to peacefully and happily coexist, can become problematic in these types of situations.

So last night, I opened the door a crack and it blew wide open. We ended up talking for close to two hours. I basically told him that we were facing a three pronged road, and that in the next 6-8 weeks we would have to decide which one to take. Road number 1: Our family is complete as it is and we put this part of our life behind us. Road number 2: When we have answers, if there is a treatment plan with minimal risks to myself and the baby, we try on our own and give it one final shot. Road number 3: We do another round (or two – since I am a poor responder) of IVF and we go the surrogacy route.

Road number 1 – I know given enough time I would be able to come to terms with this decision, but I fear a small part of me will always regret this. And right now, the only way I would take this path is if my husband were totally against road number 2 or 3. My marriage and current family comes first. However, this is the road I am not ready to take right now.

Road number 2 – So much fear. I feel like there are caution signs everywhere you look lining this road. “Beware!” “Exercise Caution!” “Danger!” Both of us agree we are the least comfortable with this route to a third child. Aside from the fear of another loss, there are physical and psychological repercussions that are terrifying. So this is a road we would only consider if IVF and surrogacy fail, and/or we are financially incapable of pursuing surrogacy.

Road number 3 – This is the road we are currently leaning towards taking. Though I imagine a dense fog a short distance away, which represents all of the unknowns of this process. I’m pretty clear and comfortable with the first part of this path as I’ve done IVF 4 times already and I have no real problems with it (aside from not being an awesome responder of course). But the rest is just a huge mystery. Where will be my GC be located? How involved will I get to be with the pregnancy? If my GC is halfway across the country, will my husband be able to be there for the birth with me? How will we arrange child care if we have fly all the way across the country? I know I am leaping far, far ahead, as first I have to find a GC willing to carry for us and clear medical and legal. But that is part of what I’m hoping to clarify today. Financially, with my mother’s help, we are prepared to start down this path.

My husband is fine. That is to say, he is okay with whatever road I choose (number 2 being the one he is most reluctant to take). But he would be happy with our family staying the way it is or adding one more to it. He acknowledges that that is because he is a man and therefore less connected to pregnancies than I am. It is not nearly as challenging for him to say goodbye to this part of his life because he doesn’t live through it quite like I do. That being said, he is also prepared to support me throughout the surrogacy process if I need to pursue this path.

So basically it is up to me. Which I appreciate as it means he will go along with whatever I want. But I guess I also wish he had as strong feelings as I do about having a third living child, as that would make it feel less like I’m dragging him along behind me. He’s always been supportive of expanding our family, but has never felt as driven as I have. I suppose I should just appreciate that he isn’t digging his heels in against having another.

It’s time to find a new doctor

Posted on by

1

When your heart rate spikes just walking into your OB-Gyn’s office and you find yourself choking back tears while waiting to be seen, you know it’s time to move on.

I don’t necessarily blame my OB but as I’m almost certain I’m putting this part of my life behind me, I think it’s time I find someone new to take care of the basic annual. I don’t know if I can keep coming back here year after year.

Ugh. This shit sucks.