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Monday, June 27, 2011

On the Brink

I'm struggling with depression. I can tell by the way that I can't seem to focus on anything requiring much thought or effort. The only activities that are truly captivating me are mindless and escapist... reading, napping, playing games on my phone. I've stopped frequenting my favorite forums... well, to be more accurate, I peruse them listlessly, but don't stop to post.

All of this is understandable, but comes at a bad time. I have an online class that I need to finish by tomorrow. I still haven't done my taxes. There is a heap of laundry on the bed.

And I don't want to do anything. At all.

Fortunately, I can indulge in this starting tomorrow night. I just have to get myself through my responsibilities until then. Then we are off to the beach to spend some time with some good friends who have no agenda other than relaxation. I'm hoping that it will be enough to snap me out of this. Until then, I have to keep slogging through.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Sharing & Healing an Old Wound

I serve as Secretary for the Teacher Council and the Faculty Circle at my school. Even though school is out for K-8th grades, the Council is meeting a few times throughout the summer to make some important decisions for next school year and to provide the Director with some support. Our first summer meeting was this past Wednesday.

I am usually a fairly private person when it comes to mixing my work and home life. I share to a certain degree, probably more than the typical person does in a conventional organization, but in our very close-knit community, I might be considered a little on the anti-social side. For many of the other teachers and parents, their closest friends are from our school community. My closest friends are outside of it. Many of the other teachers regularly socialize with one another outside of school. I only do so occasionally. I just really need to keep my work and play a little more separate. I have a hard enough time leaving work at work as it is.

The whole point of me bringing all of this up, is that very few people on staff knew about my first miscarriage. I only told the preschool and kindergarten staff about it... and one other teacher who happened to be the first person I saw that morning (I lost that baby just a few minutes before leaving for work and hadn't pulled myself together). More people know that we are trying for a family, but that is recent knowledge to them and I'm not sure if everyone is aware of it.

Anyway, at the beginning of each meeting, we go around the circle and do a quick check-in to see how everyone is doing. I had considered saying something inconsequential about how exciting it was to watch the children get excited about the caterpillars we are raising in my classroom, but decided against it. I'm just feeling too hurt and drained to keep this miscarriage to myself. I have discovered, in the times I've found myself unexpectedly sharing, that it feels better to just get it out. Besides, with four other pregnancies on staff that I am looking forward to celebrating, I am also feeling sadness that my babies aren't going to be part of that peer group.

So, when it was my turn, I tearfully told them about my losses and that I am having a hard time dealing with this second one especially. I received so much support and love from them right in that moment and afterward. Every one of them offered a hug and some words of comfort. One left a note on my car. Two immediately sent me emails. One, who went through her own difficult journey into motherhood, shed tears with me and offered to come to appointments with me, if I needed extra support (I told her about the bitch-wife).

In my car, on my way home that afternoon, I reflected on the amount of love and support that I felt from my work community. And I recognized that I had been harboring a deep hurt against that same community for a few years because I needed that same love and support when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia three years ago. I thought about this and examined the reasons why I have support now and didn't then... and I realized that very few people knew what I was going through back then. The only people privy to my situation were my immediate co-workers and the director. I was too scared about my health, and too hurt and embarrassed over my involuntary leave of absence that was imposed by my director, to reach out to the rest of the community and share with them about what I was going through. And for some reason, the people in the know, elected not to share their knowledge with the rest of the community.

So I spent three months at home, healing my body and feeling very lonely and neglected by a community that typically reached out to anyone who was having health and resulting financial issues. It hurt a lot to not see the community reach out to me in my time of need and I've been carrying that hurt with me ever since. I realized this past week, that they would have reached out to me, had they known. But they were unaware. In my realization, I felt that old wound begin to heal a little. There is still some hurt that those in the know, didn't initiate a community effort on my behalf... but the bulk of my hurt that was directed at the community in general is healed. My work community is there for me... I just need to let them know when I need them.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Insensitive Incompetent Bitch!

The hospital recommended that I schedule a follow-up appointment with MAHEC-Women's... so I did. I even blew off stopping in at my family practitioner's office for this appointment because I thought they were going to do a complete exam and start a conversation about why I may have miscarried again and where to go from here. My family doc just needed to take some blood to monitor my hcg level.... and since I was sure the trip to MAHEC would include that, I didn't go to my doc office for it.

I was seen by a certified nurse midwife. She began the appointment by checking my weight and blood pressure. She didn't immediately ask about the mandatory mask I was wearing because I have a cold, she didn't take my temperature. All things that I believe should be standard in any physician's office.

Everything from that point on was a nightmare. She started off by looking at my medical chart and saying that they weren't going to do a pelvic exam or ultrasound until after she was able to confirm if my hcg had gone up. So they were just going to start by drawing blood and then scheduling another visit. If my levels have stabilized or risen then there is a chance that things might be okay.

I stared at her in disbelief. What?! My hcg levels should be dropping... I had a COMPLETE FUCKING MISCARRIAGE!!! We pulled out my discharge paperwork, questioning what she was telling us, and stating that my hcg was only 26 last Tuesday and shouldn't be going up. She countered by arguing that my levels were 56, not 26 and that I was in for a follow-up for a threatened miscarriage. She didn't even look at the paper Marc held out to her.

Then she consulted my chart again. Oh, gee... it appears that I DID have a complete miscarriage. Thanks a lot. THANKS A FUCKING LOT. I shouldn't have to tell the attending practitioner why I'm in there.... especially after a loss. She should have carefully read my chart and been more prepared and more sensitive. I can't believe that this happened.

I had a ton of questions... all of which got immediately shot down. She wouldn't discuss anything related to why I miscarried twice. Or how to prevent further miscarriage. Or when we could start trying again.... well, on that point, she did have one thing to say. "You can't replace this pregnancy with another. You can't ever replace a pregnancy." Well NO SHIT, YOU DUMB INSENSITIVE BITCH!. Do you really think that I don't know that? I've lost two babies. You don't replace babies. But I DO want to have a successful pregnancy so I can hold one of my children. That's why I'm asking all of these questions!

Throughout the remainder of our brief interview, she was brusque and cold. She grudgingly offered to schedule an appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist in six weeks, saying that given my age, he might be willing to run tests that she had just refused to even discuss with me. She shut down further discussion about anything else. And by that point, I just felt defeated and was struggling not to scream and cry at her. I didn't have it in me to assert myself further. In addition, I no longer trusted my care to her... she screwed up big time with the incomplete miscarriage thing and the whole time we were talking, I was watching her scribble notes on this piece of paper. One of the info boxes was labeled "birth control". Handwritten after that was what looked like "IUD". I don't know if that was supposed to be a recommendation or if she somehow got it into her head that I have or have had an IUD. If it was a recommendation, it was never discussed with me. If she thinks I have one, or have had one, she couldn't be more wrong.

She dismissed us to have my blood drawn, walking off before she had completed her directions about where to go. I got my blood drawn and got out of there. I cried all the way home... Marc suggested a walk by the river and I completely fell apart in the parking lot there. The ER staff, as busy as they were, were a hell of a lot more compassionate than this bitch was. And that's not saying much because the ER staff didn't really have a lot of time for compassion. And what really bugs me is that she told me she had seven miscarriages herself. So she should know better! She should know how much it hurts and how much reassurance is needed. She should know about bedside manners and compassion.

I'm never going back there again. In fact, I want to complain, but I don't know how to do it. I'm just so very upset... especially knowing that I could have gone to my family doctor for that blood test and have been treated with so much kindness. I wouldn't have had any other answers, but the kindness would have made all the difference.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Father's Day

When I was pregnant, I realized that Father's Day was coming up... Marc's first Father's Day. He was so excited to be a Dad and was reading and researching what he could, but was greatly frustrated with the resources available for expectant fathers. So I found him a book on Amazon called "The Expectant Father" and purchased it as a Father's Day gift.

It arrived in the mail on Wednesday... the day after we lost the baby. I wasn't sure what to do with the box. I was a little afraid of it, to be honest. Part of me wanted to open it, part of me wanted to hide it. I had no idea what to do with Marc's book.

Knowing that I always enjoy getting packages from Amazon, Marc encouraged me to open it. I had to tell him what was in the box and I am really glad I did. It was a special moment... we were both very sad, but I felt closer to him as we shared both our grief and a bittersweet joy over a Father's Day gift. He didn't open the box right away, but later in the evening we sat together as he opened it. We talked late into the night about our hopes, how it felt to know that we were going to be parents, how it felt to lose it, and about our hopes and fears for the future. The book is at his bedside now. He told me that he plans to read bits of it between now and when we start trying again.

He's going to make an amazing father.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Seeking Normality

I miscarried on Tuesday. The experience left me numb and drained in every way. Between the physical effects of the miscarriage itself, the ER imposed dehydration/starvation, and the emotional stress I was a wreck. My abdomen hurt, my back hurt, my heart hurt, my head hurt, in fact... just about everything hurt in some way. We had been in the ER for more than 8 hours and in those 8 hours I wasn't allowed any food or water. I had only had half a piece of toast and a banana all day.

Anyone who knows me, knows that this is never good for me... even under the best of conditions.  I was too hungry to eat, but I tried my best. We ordered sushi and miso soup. The soup went down well enough, although I couldn't handle the saltiness of it for long. The sushi... and any other food that I put in my mouth over the next few days... instantly and evilly produced horrible gassy stomach cramps. They were actually stronger than the cramping in my uterus.

My doctor told me that it would be perfectly reasonable to take the rest of the week off from work. In fact, she told that I definitely shouldn't work before Friday, but that I could take Friday off as well, if I wanted. She said I should guage my physical well being and balance it with my emotional well being. So, with most of my cramping subsided, and having regained the ability to eat more comfortably, I decided that work would be a welcome distraction.

In many ways it was. I am a preschool teacher. It is a job that demands one to be present and in the moment. It is a job that is constantly moving, constantly busy. In many ways, going back to work today was good for me. For most of the day, it did provide a distraction from my pain... kept me from dwelling on it. But other parts of the day, I found incredibly difficult.

I didn't know how to handle the questions of concern from the children's parents. They weren't told why I was out... and they didn't know that I was pregnant. They only knew that I am not often out without notice and that missing three days is way out of the norm for me. My school is a close knit community and many of the parents genuinely care about my well being. So when some of them inquired about how I was feeling, or what sort of illness I had, I found it difficult to put on a smile and make something up. I just couldn't. Instead I'd find myself blurting out "I had a miscarriage." and then tearing up.

One mother... a new parent who I am still getting to know... was asking very direct questions about why I was out... from across the room. She wanted to know exactly what I had, seemingly concerned about it spreading to her child and others. I tried to softly mouth to her that I had a miscarriage, but she wasn't able to read my lips. She then goes on to tell me how her child was also ill and she thought perhaps we had the same thing. "Umm... no," I said, "We definitely didn't. I wasn't contagious." I know I was abrupt and odd in both tone, expression, and wording. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. She apologized later in the day, saying she didn't mean to imply that I had infected the children. I started to explain... to tell her about what really happened so that she wouldn't think that I'm some temperamental bitch... but a child came running up and needed to use the bathroom and the opportunity was lost. Now I don't know how to bring it back up... or if I want to even bother.

Sometimes, being around the children was comforting. They are intuitive beings... and instinctively seem to know when an extra long mutual snuggle is what we both need. A few of the little girls were sad, grouchy, and melodramatic (as little girls sometimes are). Typically, when they get that way, I give them a comforting hug and then work to raise them out of it so they can move on with enjoying their day. Today, I let them bask in it for a little while... I needed the lengthy cuddles more than they did and they were happy to melt into my lap.

Other times, being around the children was hard. I couldn't help but think... how long? How long will I be caring for other people's children before I can care for my own? I broke down crying and had to leave the room twice. I tried not to let them see that I was upset, just told them I needed to use the bathroom. One little boy, who notices EVERYTHING, did ask what was wrong and why I was crying. I had no words to give him. Fortunately, he accepted my answer that it was private. I don't think I have the stamina to stand strong against a battering of persistent questions from a four year-old. I had been dreading this little guy questioning me about my "illness".

I made it through my day. I'm glad I went, but it was very hard. At times, I really wished I had stayed home. On the other hand... I've done nothing but obsess since I've been home... so the routine of going to work was good for me.

Healing Patchwork Baby Blanket

I lost my first baby on Nov 5th, 2010… the loss was so early that I hadn’t even had a positive pregnancy test yet… just a few symptoms and a hunch. My pregnancy was confirmed after it had ended.

I lost my second baby three days ago on June 14, 2011. For a handful of days I was blissfully pregnant and already beginning to make plans for the future. One plan was to knit a blanket for our baby… I even bought a Stitchionary with the intent to use a different stitch pattern for each square.

Rather than scrapping the idea… or postponing it… I have decided that it might be healing to go ahead and make my blanket. I’m not sure if I will keep it when I am finished or if I will donate it to someone in need. I will make that decision when the time comes. What I hope the blanket will be is a labor of love, and a letting go, and a soothing of raw emotions. I will post each square as I knit them and then the blanket when all is stitched together.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Of Gains and Losses...

One week ago today, I was hopeful.
One week ago today, I was certain.
One week ago today, I had a beautiful secret.

Six days ago, I had a positive pregnancy test.
Six days ago, I had a due date.
Six days ago, We felt successful.

Three days ago, my temperature dropped.
Three days ago, I had a positive pregnancy test.
Three nights ago, I thought something might be wrong.

Two days ago, I started bleeding.
Two days ago, I went to the ER.
Two days ago, I lost my baby.

My second.
My second pregnancy.
My second loss.

My world turned upside down.