Home/Work : Miscarriage

Our family's year: batten down the hatches and hold on tight

kgranju — Sat, 23 May 2009 21:54:00 GMT

Jon's Uncle Tom died today, at the hospital right up the street from us. He was diagnosed with cancer about 6 months ago, and a staph infection took him today. He was Jon's mother's only sibling - a fascinating person I am glad to have known.

Yesterday, J graduated 8th grade and moved up to high schooler status (see photos below). The ceremony was really moving; Jane has been at this school (with a brief interlude elsewhere in grades 2-3) grade since kindergarten. Some of these kids started kindergarten with her, and to look at these gorgeous, accomplished, bright-eyed teenage girls walking across the stage with her on Friday really took my breath away.

J's last day of middle school also marked E's last day of elementary school, another huge milestone.

Two days before that, our whole family came together to send H off on a great adventure; he'll be finishing up summer school and then his senior year of high school at a boarding school many states away. My eldest baby is gone, and if he goes straight to college as I hope, he may never again live at home full time. I can't even open the door to his bedroom yet without bursting into tears.

Jon has taken three parts of the four part CPA exam in the past 10 days. He takes the last section on Tuesday. It's like taking the bar exam for weeks and weeks. Before that, he was studying 24/7 on top of doing his regular job for the past several months.

Seven weeks ago, I started a brand new job. That came nine months after starting another new job; in other words, I've changed jobs twice in the past year. Both were great opportunities, and each transition came with good feelings from my employers, but still....two job changes in the past year. I absolutely LOVE what I am doing now - and feel incredibly lucky - but as anyone who has done it knows, changing jobs under any circumstance marks a pretty big transition.

In the past nine months, I've suffered two miscarriages.

Six months ago, Jon's father's brother died of cancer.

Nine months ago, my 64 year old father died very unexpectedly of a pulmonary embolism, breaking my heart.

The economy has completely tanked since the end of the year, and far too many of my friends are out of work, or struggling to stay afloat.

My beloved grandmother, who lives 3 hours away from me, has, in the past 12 months, become completely bedridden. Because of everything else going on, I have been unable to spend as much time with her as I should, or would like. I feel stressed and unhappy about this on a daily basis.

Are you getting the picture here? The past year has sort of, well, KICKED MY ASS. If I took one of those "how much stress are you under" tests online, my computer would likely explode into flames. Sometimes, lately, I feel like I, myself might spontaneously explode into flames.Some of this stress is "good stress," like children maturing and my new job, but it's still stress - and there has just been a lot of it in recent months.

I know that I remain incredibly blessed. I take some time for gratitude each day; I really do. I understand that none of my children have serious illnesses, and we have an income and a roof over our heads. I take absolutely none of that for granted. But seriously, this past year has just been....overwhelming. I know we have to turn the corner soon on the deluge of Life's Big Moments coming one on top of the other.

It's funny how some periods of your life are like this, testing your coping skills, and challenging you to push yourself harder, trying your best to set a good example for your children in how to roll with whatever fate throws your way. This past year has made me realize how much more important it is to appreciate every single moment, as it's happening, because you never know what tomorrow - or even the next ring of the phone - might bring.

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Hope springs eternal...or maybe I'm just delusional

kgranju — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 01:52:00 GMT

We've decided to keep trying to have a baby - or at least give it one more go. That's what feels right, mostly. There is certainly a part of me that says we should just call it a day, given that I have already given birth to four healthy children. But considering how much older H (17), J (13) and E (10) are, and the fact that they spend half their time with their father, giving up would mean that 16 month old C would mostly grow up in an only-child-like household. And while I have no issue with other parents who decide a singleton kid is the right choice for their own family, I don't want that for her. She already misses her big brothers and her sister when they are away every other week, and I know that will only become more pronounced as they get older.

Even before this last pregnancy ended in miscarriage, I'd been carefully charting my fertility for the past several years, using the great info in this book, and I've also been doing a lot of research into the causes of recurrent pregnancy loss. Many healthy women experience one or two miscarriages in their lives, and the reasons are random and generally unknown. But when someone miscarries over and over and over, as I have in recent years, there is generally a specific cause - or several specific causes - behind the problem.

After the first several losses, I had some genetic testing done, and it was discovered that I have a fairly common genetic thrombophilia condition that CAN be the cause of recurrent losses. Because of this condition, I am taking what my perinatologist believes are the appropriate preventive medications, but I want to have some discussion with him when we next see him in about 10 days about stepping up the medication protocol to the next level, something he told me I did NOT need to do in this past pregnancy.

But one other issue I've discovered in charting my fertility is that I likely have what is known as a luteal phase defect. This means that I ovulate less than 10 days before my next period starts, while an optimal cycle (for fertility purposes anyway) has ovulation occurring 14 days or more before the next cycle begins. During a cycle where that ovulation becomes a pregnancy, the short "luteal phase" makes for a less favorable hormonal environment for the pregnancy to progress. My doctor has been treating this by giving me progesterone supplements after pregnancy is confirmed, but some doctors feel like a better way to treat the issue is to use Clomid to stimulate ovulation earlier in the cycle in order to force a longer luteal phase.

So I am going to point this luteal phase issue out to my doctor, and I am going to ask him to prescribe Clomid. I am more than a little nervous about the higher risk of multiples with the use of Clomid, but I think it's a risk I'm willing to take at this point. I also know that for me, Clomid is as far as I am willing to go in the way of fertility treatments. If it works, great. If not, I'll be really disappointed, but I am at peace with the fact that you really don't always get everything you want in life just because you want it. I want to remain very conscious that I don't let this baby quest get in the way of enjoying what I am lucky enough to already have: children, husband, work, family, health... It has to remain secondary.

So we'll give this pregnancy thing at least one more try. Maybe two - max. And that's a scary thought. I know that if we manage to get knocked up again, this time I really won't tell anyone at all until I am at least five months pregnant (of course, by that time, it would be completely obvious to anyone with eyeballs). And I will have to assume a mindset that expects the pregnancy to end badly. That's the only way to handle it, I think, and it will be somewhat mentally torturous. But my heart tells me there is one more baby coming to our family.

I hope I am not just delusional ;-)

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Can you be a little bit pregnant?

kgranju — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 00:10:00 GMT

NOTE FROM KATIE: Since posting this last week, I've had several people ask me whether it's okay to congratulate us on the pregnancy, since we remain a bit nervous about it. Absolutely yes :-) We are happy, and hopeful, and are trying to assume that all will go wonderfully. I am feeling good, and thus far, all signs are positive. Well wishes welcome!

Common wisom says that no one can be "a little bit pregnant." You either are, or you aren't. But for those of us who have the bad fortune to have miscarried repeatedly, we know this just isn't true. You certainly can be kinda, sorta pregnant. And that's what I am right now. I am in that exhausting, anxiety-provoking phase between the positive home pregnancy test (YAY!) and the unfortunately named "viability scan" ultrasound, which will take place at my perinatologist's office in about two weeks.

This is a highly personal topic, and I'm not entirely comfortable blogging about it. I did already touch on the issue, recently opening up about the fact that I've had trouble carrying a pregnancy past the first trimester. And after I wrote about my own health problem - and that's what it is - I received so many e-mails from women dealing with the same thing who thanked me for being honest about this sensitive topic that I've decided to stick my neck out even further, and share this next part of my journey. I hope that telling my story in an open way helps other women going through the same thing. Because this is tough, and those of us who have experienced it can maybe support each other and demystify it, and make it easier for others who are also living through this desperate, Googling-madness phase of an early, tentative pregnancy-following-loss.

With my first pregnancy, almost two decades ago, I never even saw the doctor until near the very end of the first trimester. I certainly never had a routine ultrasound until maybe well into the second trimester. And between the day of the positive home test and the first doctor visit, it never occurred to me to wonder whether the pregnancy was real, or whether it would "stick." I was pregnant. Plain and simple. Now, however, the positive home test is followed almost immediately by trips every two to three days to the high risk OB, where I have blood drawn so the doctor can follow my (hopefullly) rising HCG and progesterone levels.

At least, that's what we are supposed to see. HCG, in case you've never had the pleasure of obsessively researching it on the Web, is the yes-you're-pregnant hormone that is supposed to double every 48-72 hours in the first weeks of pregnancy. If it does, it's an excellent sign - though not comletely predictive in and of itself. If it does not, the odds are poor for a successful pregnancy. Progesterone should be at a heightened level as well. Most doctors like to see it at 20 or above in the first trimester. So since getting the positive home test a few weeks ago, I've been stuck repeatedly by the bloodsucking needle at the doctor's office, and so far, so good. HCG is rising appropriately. Progesterone is, as the enthusiastic nurse at the doc's office said on the phone Friday, "kickass good this time!" And I am sleepy. Very sleepy. Plus, Jon could fill you in on how my emotions are all over the place for the past several weeks. So I should be relieved, right? These are clearly symptoms. There is every reason to expect that I am thoroughly pregnant, and we will welcome a baby - our last - home in the summer of 2009.

But then the doubt begins to set in. My HCG numbers are normal, but they are in the low end of the normal range. What could this mean? I feel a little twinge in my lower back. Could that be a bad sign? And I am steeling myself emotionally for the day when we go to the doc's office for the scan, at which time the kind ultrasound tech will turn to us to give us the bad news we've come to expect: "I'm sorry, but this isn't a viable pregnancy."

We've told the kids the closest thing to the truth in our situation: that our family will find out in a few weeks whether we are expecting a baby sister or brother. For them, and everyone else, that's a simple enough approach. Just wait and see and deal with whatever we find out. Try not to worry about it before then. Reasonable enough.

But for me, the one who has to live with being a little bit pregnant in the interim, it's not a lot of fun. And that's an understatement!

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So, I'm kind of getting sick of miscarrying

kgranju — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 19:37:00 GMT

I have been blogging about my life - particularly my life as a parent - for about six years now, and I've blogged through marriage, divorce,work, life as a single mama, remarriage, pregnancy, childbirth... There are some topics I've been pretty open about and others about which I've been more circumspect.

This morning, at my son's football game, I got into a conversation with a woman I'd never met before. She's very pregnant, and as we talked about epidurals, and which OB she's using, and all sorts of typical topics like that, she mentioned that before becoming pregnant with this baby, due any day now, she had endured multiple miscarriages.

Me too, I found myself blurting out to a total stranger. I've had a bunch of miscarriages, too.

And then suddenly, for the first time ever, I started crying about all those miscarriages I've suffered over the past several years.

She patted me, and I felt embarrassed, and then I clumsily offered my congratulations to her, and went and sat in my car and proceeded to bawl my eyes out for 30 minutes.

This was literally the first time ever that I allowed myself to feel that bad about a fact that only a few very close friends and family members know, but that I've decided to say out loud for the first time: In the past several years, I've miscarried multiple times, most recently about seven weeks ago. I've had miscarriages at 5 weeks and one at ten weeks and a few in the middle. I've had miscarriages that seemed more like a late period - even though I knew I was pregnant - and one that put me in bed for several days after the minor surgeries it required. Mostly, they've just left me tired and quiet for a period of time.

And you know what? I'm getting kind of sick of miscarrying.

My first three babies were born before I was 30 years old. It all went easily, and I completely took it for granted. Life went on. I then divorced, and later met the man I'll be with the rest of my life. We decided to try for a baby right away, with the hope that we would be able to have two children in the following three or four years,

As it turns out, getting pregnant is no problem for me at this point. Staying pregnant? Well, not so much.

Now see, here's where it gets tricky talking about this stuff. Because, we DO have a baby. She's gorgeous and healthy and beautiful. My gratitude for her knows no bounds. And along with the other three children I am lucky enough to have, that means I have given birth to FOUR healthy children. What 41 year old woman with FOUR children has a right to even dare hope for another? And certainly, a woman with FOUR children has no right to complain about multiple miscarriages when there are so many women who have no children at all. Which is one reason why I've kind of kept my mouth shut about this. It sounds really sort of tacky, someone who has four kids complaining that she isn't able to have a fifth. It's sort of like if John McCain complained that he doesn't have enough houses, or if Tiger Woods whined that his golf swing just isn't what it used to be.

But with every miscarriage, it's getting harder to pretend it hasn't happened, harder to remain silent and stoic. The last one was really, really disappointing and difficult. And it coincided with my birthday month, meaning I am extremely conscious of time passing.

We've decided we'll give it another year or so, and see what happens. If it isn't meant to be, we'll graciously accept defeat and close up babymaking shop. It appears that the genetic thrombophilia condition that was identified after the miscarriage I had in October of 2006 may require me to inject myself with blood thinners every day during pregnancy, if I am lucky enough to conceive again. So far, I've just been taking baby aspirin and high doses of folic acid each time the pregnancy test turns up positive, but clearly, more aggressive tactics are in order. And while that doesn't sound like much fun, the repeat miscarrying thing is definitely not much fun either.

So there, I've said it out loud: I've miscarried repeatedly in recent years.

And even though I know I'm really, really blessed to have four healthy children, it hasn't made this experience any less difficult.