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03/13/2006
The Shittiest Rollercoaster on Earth
I’ve written three different blog posts in my head over the past week, each with an entirely different subject and tone. As each day has passed, the post has changed – some days in small ways, other days in leaps and bounds. I guess what I’m trying to say is that this post will be three entirely different posts in one – so I hope you’re in it for the long haul.
Last Monday was cycle day 26 – the day when I usually get my period. It was also the day before my annual check-up with my new GP under our new insurance. This was poor planning on my part – I had scheduled the appointment for the first date possible in the month of March, not taking the time to consider when my period was due.
Ahhhh, another infertile. She asked when my last period began, and when I told her that it was actually a day late, she said, “Wouldn’t it be great if you found out you were pregnant right after you went in for a referral?”
That would be fucking awesome, I thought.
The new GP was pleasant, knowledgeable, and thorough. As I saddled up into the stirrups (that didn’t even have fuzzy covers – yeah, I was disappointed), she told me that everything looked normal and explained that she’d be doing a pap smear and a few other tests that were mandatory before she could give a referral – chlamydia, gonorrhea, and one for some kind of bacteria. After inserting the speculum, she said, “It looks like you’re just about to begin your period.” As she pulled out the swabs, they were tipped with red.
My heart sank a bit. As blasé as I acted, I had been hopeful.
The rest of the exam went as it usually did. She told me that before we got a referral, Hal would have to go in for an exam and a semen analysis. I told her I’d get right on that, and started composing blog post #1 in my mind. That evening, I had light spotting, but no deluge.
Wednesday, cycle day 28, passed with only one small bit of beige spotting in the morning. This is getting fucking weird, I thought. So I dug out a pregnancy test from the back of the shelf and peed away. Negative, I noted, and threw it away. Of course, a half an hour later, I dug it out to check, as all crazy infertiles do – and it was faintly, faintly positive. I’ve heard all of the evaporation line rumors, and I knew that a positive shouldn’t be read after 10 minutes, so I tucked it into the back of my mind and went on with my day.
Thursday came – cycle day 29 – no period. On the way to work, we stopped at the drugstore for two more tests, and I became one of those women who pee on sticks at work. Negative for the first five minutes, and then, again, a faint, faint positive. Of course, I took pictures with my phone and a digital camera and ran them by my husband and Ms. Prufrock. And, of course, the pictures were crap so it looked like I was seeing things that weren’t there. However, in the car on the way home, my husband concurred that there was definitely a second line. Hmm.
Friday morning – cycle day 30 – no period. I took the second test, and it was blatantly negative. Seriously, what the hell is going on? I called the clinic to see if I could get in to see my GP, and they told me to come down to the lab to pee in a cup over lunch, and a nurse would call with my results by the end of the day.
Peed in cup at 12:30. Nurse called at 3:30. Longest three hours ever.
It was positive.
Hal was through the roof with excitement. I immediately IM-ed Ms. Prufrock, who offered hearty congratulations, as did EJW, my blog buddy up the street. I started creating blog post #2, which was to end with the sentence, “It seems as if Hal and I have our very own uterine squatter.”
Hal’s brother L and his wife Natalie, who live in town and read this blog, took us out for a congratulatory dinner. Hal and I tittered excitedly, keeping the “1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage” fact tucked as far back into the corners of our minds as we could. We marveled over the fact that we were miraculously in the 5% of infertile couples who spontaneously conceive in their second year of trying. We rejoiced over the fact that there would be no need to see an RE, no expensive treatments, no need for Hal to bite the bullet and bring in the damn semen sample already.
Saturday and Sunday were lovely. We told a select few people and reveled in the joy and surprise.
On Sunday evening, we were over at L and Natalie’s. Natalie and I had just gotten back from Target, where we had lingered unnecessarily long in the baby aisles, and I headed upstairs to the bathroom.
Blood. Bright red.
I called for Hal, and I sat on the toilet, just staring. Hal came in, and I looked up at his face. The pain on his face upon seeing the blood was unbearable, and my tears immediately started. We sat there in the bathroom, crying, for about 5 minutes. By then, L and Natalie were wondering what was wrong, and I asked Hal to ask Natalie to get me a pad.
I called the clinic to see what they recommended. After finally getting to talk to a nurse an hour later, she told me that there was nothing much they could do if it was indeed an early miscarriage. She told me that if my bleeding increased and continued into tomorrow, I should go in to the lab for a beta and see what my doctor says.
The rest of the evening was awful. One of the worst days of our lives. There was a lot of hugging and crying, and Hal was absolutely wonderful, despite how crushed he was. After pulling ourselves together, we watched Annie Hall, which had just arrived from Blockbuster Online. Feeling better, and knowing that we had to accept the inevitable, I called in to work to tell them I’d be out today, and we slept in this morning.
My bleeding had indeed continued. Hal and I headed into the lab at noon, and they drew blood for my beta. I called in at 4:30 for my results, and the nurse told me my beta number: 5. Dreadful. No chance, not that I expected any at this point. I was instructed to take a break for a cycle and let my lining regenerate properly. I informed her, as I’d been informing doctors all along, that I was pretty sure that I had a luteal phase defect, and asked whether I’d need to see an RE just to get some progesterone supplementation. She told me to keep track of when I ovulate this cycle, and come in at 5 DPO for some blood levels. If my progesterone was indeed low, she’d see what she could do to help me out.
Today ended with us calling the few parties we had told to inform them that I had had a miscarriage. Those were really shitty called to make, but it was good to hear their words of support.
For three days, we got to feel the absolute joy of a surprise pregnancy. But perhaps somewhere, deep inside, I suspected that a miscarriage would happen. We were used to going against the odds – the 1 out of 8 couples who is infertile, the 1 out of 20 couples that spontaneously conceives in their second year of trying, and, now, the 1 out of 5 pregnancies that ends in miscarriage.
Last night, as I was emailing Ms. Prufrock, Hal yelled up the stairs, “I’m so glad you have your friends online.”
So am I. Holy shit, so am I.
Last Monday was cycle day 26 – the day when I usually get my period. It was also the day before my annual check-up with my new GP under our new insurance. This was poor planning on my part – I had scheduled the appointment for the first date possible in the month of March, not taking the time to consider when my period was due.
By Tuesday, cycle day 27, my period hadn’t shown up. This isn’t unusual – I had had 27-28 day cycles before – I was simply glad that I could have my appointment as planned, since this was the appointment where I’d seek a referral to an RE.
My new clinic was, indeed, new. It was finished last summer, and the design and decor were very up-to-date. Lots of sage green and cream tones. My nurse was cheerful and very friendly. She saw on my intake form that I had put “infertility” under the items that I wanted to discuss at this appointment, and asked how longer we’ve been trying to conceive.
“Sixteen months.”
“Yeah, then it’s about time that you both be checked out. Has your husband has his appointment yet?”
“No, he hasn’t been too excited about the notion of bringing in warm semen in a cup.”
“Tell me about it – I’ve been trying to convince my husband to bring his in for the past two years.”
Ahhhh, another infertile. She asked when my last period began, and when I told her that it was actually a day late, she said, “Wouldn’t it be great if you found out you were pregnant right after you went in for a referral?”
That would be fucking awesome, I thought.
The new GP was pleasant, knowledgeable, and thorough. As I saddled up into the stirrups (that didn’t even have fuzzy covers – yeah, I was disappointed), she told me that everything looked normal and explained that she’d be doing a pap smear and a few other tests that were mandatory before she could give a referral – chlamydia, gonorrhea, and one for some kind of bacteria. After inserting the speculum, she said, “It looks like you’re just about to begin your period.” As she pulled out the swabs, they were tipped with red.
My heart sank a bit. As blasé as I acted, I had been hopeful.
The rest of the exam went as it usually did. She told me that before we got a referral, Hal would have to go in for an exam and a semen analysis. I told her I’d get right on that, and started composing blog post #1 in my mind. That evening, I had light spotting, but no deluge.
Wednesday, cycle day 28, passed with only one small bit of beige spotting in the morning. This is getting fucking weird, I thought. So I dug out a pregnancy test from the back of the shelf and peed away. Negative, I noted, and threw it away. Of course, a half an hour later, I dug it out to check, as all crazy infertiles do – and it was faintly, faintly positive. I’ve heard all of the evaporation line rumors, and I knew that a positive shouldn’t be read after 10 minutes, so I tucked it into the back of my mind and went on with my day.
Thursday came – cycle day 29 – no period. On the way to work, we stopped at the drugstore for two more tests, and I became one of those women who pee on sticks at work. Negative for the first five minutes, and then, again, a faint, faint positive. Of course, I took pictures with my phone and a digital camera and ran them by my husband and Ms. Prufrock. And, of course, the pictures were crap so it looked like I was seeing things that weren’t there. However, in the car on the way home, my husband concurred that there was definitely a second line. Hmm.
Friday morning – cycle day 30 – no period. I took the second test, and it was blatantly negative. Seriously, what the hell is going on? I called the clinic to see if I could get in to see my GP, and they told me to come down to the lab to pee in a cup over lunch, and a nurse would call with my results by the end of the day.
Peed in cup at 12:30. Nurse called at 3:30. Longest three hours ever.
It was positive.
She implored me to quit smoking (ha!), drinking alcohol (wow, really?), and to cut down on my caffeine (done and done), and to get on a prenatal vitamin as soon as I could (I actually laughed at this one). She also told me my due date – November 16th. The day after Hal’s birthday. In the next week, I was to call the prenatal intake nurse so she could set me up with an OB for my first prenatal appointment.
Hal was through the roof with excitement. I immediately IM-ed Ms. Prufrock, who offered hearty congratulations, as did EJW, my blog buddy up the street. I started creating blog post #2, which was to end with the sentence, “It seems as if Hal and I have our very own uterine squatter.”
Hal’s brother L and his wife Natalie, who live in town and read this blog, took us out for a congratulatory dinner. Hal and I tittered excitedly, keeping the “1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage” fact tucked as far back into the corners of our minds as we could. We marveled over the fact that we were miraculously in the 5% of infertile couples who spontaneously conceive in their second year of trying. We rejoiced over the fact that there would be no need to see an RE, no expensive treatments, no need for Hal to bite the bullet and bring in the damn semen sample already.
Saturday and Sunday were lovely. We told a select few people and reveled in the joy and surprise.
On Sunday evening, we were over at L and Natalie’s. Natalie and I had just gotten back from Target, where we had lingered unnecessarily long in the baby aisles, and I headed upstairs to the bathroom.
Blood. Bright red.
I called for Hal, and I sat on the toilet, just staring. Hal came in, and I looked up at his face. The pain on his face upon seeing the blood was unbearable, and my tears immediately started. We sat there in the bathroom, crying, for about 5 minutes. By then, L and Natalie were wondering what was wrong, and I asked Hal to ask Natalie to get me a pad.
I called the clinic to see what they recommended. After finally getting to talk to a nurse an hour later, she told me that there was nothing much they could do if it was indeed an early miscarriage. She told me that if my bleeding increased and continued into tomorrow, I should go in to the lab for a beta and see what my doctor says.
The rest of the evening was awful. One of the worst days of our lives. There was a lot of hugging and crying, and Hal was absolutely wonderful, despite how crushed he was. After pulling ourselves together, we watched Annie Hall, which had just arrived from Blockbuster Online. Feeling better, and knowing that we had to accept the inevitable, I called in to work to tell them I’d be out today, and we slept in this morning.
My bleeding had indeed continued. Hal and I headed into the lab at noon, and they drew blood for my beta. I called in at 4:30 for my results, and the nurse told me my beta number: 5. Dreadful. No chance, not that I expected any at this point. I was instructed to take a break for a cycle and let my lining regenerate properly. I informed her, as I’d been informing doctors all along, that I was pretty sure that I had a luteal phase defect, and asked whether I’d need to see an RE just to get some progesterone supplementation. She told me to keep track of when I ovulate this cycle, and come in at 5 DPO for some blood levels. If my progesterone was indeed low, she’d see what she could do to help me out.
Today ended with us calling the few parties we had told to inform them that I had had a miscarriage. Those were really shitty called to make, but it was good to hear their words of support.
For three days, we got to feel the absolute joy of a surprise pregnancy. But perhaps somewhere, deep inside, I suspected that a miscarriage would happen. We were used to going against the odds – the 1 out of 8 couples who is infertile, the 1 out of 20 couples that spontaneously conceives in their second year of trying, and, now, the 1 out of 5 pregnancies that ends in miscarriage.
Last night, as I was emailing Ms. Prufrock, Hal yelled up the stairs, “I’m so glad you have your friends online.”
So am I. Holy shit, so am I.
18:05 Posted in My uterus, etc. | Permalink | Comments (57) | Email this
Comments
I feel like such a fucking bitch because I have to be honest and tell you I was feeling so jealous until I realized where your post was going. I feel like shit for feeling that way...
I feel more like shit that you are now feeling what you are right now. I'm so sorry, Molly. I would rather go on feeling jealous.
Posted by: DD | 03/13/2006
Oh, Molly. There are no words. I'm just so, so sorry.
Posted by: lindy | 03/13/2006
Fuck. The universe strikes again. I'm so sorry. This is just cruel and wrong.
Posted by: mm | 03/13/2006
Oh, honey, I'm so very sorry. *hugs*
Posted by: Jenn | 03/13/2006
Oh sweetie, I am so incredibly sorry. I'm thinking of you.
Posted by: Dooneybug | 03/13/2006
Oh Molly, I'm so sorry. That totally sucks. I hope the doctor has some answers for you.
Posted by: statia | 03/13/2006
Oh honey, I'm so sorry. All day I thought of you, and when you weren't around I was so afraid this was why. I wish there was some way to go back and pump you full of progesterone or whatever you needed.
When you come back to work, let me know and I'll run down and give you a big hug.
Posted by: EJW | 03/13/2006
I'm so sorry.
Posted by: Sassy | 03/13/2006
I am so, so sorry. My heart is breaking for you and Hal - there are no words. Nothing made me happier than seeing the joy on your faces when we were talking on Friday about your future child playing Magic: The Gathering or singing opera, and nothing makes me sadder than this. It's just not fair.
I am so, so sorry. I truly am.
Posted by: Natalie | 03/13/2006
Just wanted to add my voice to the chorus of support. What a roller coaster. It's a wonder you're still standing. I hope that you're hanging in there...
Posted by: Truly Tested | 03/13/2006
Wow. From zero to omg to crap, I'm sorry.
Posted by: Orodemniades | 03/14/2006
I can't even imagine, Molly.
I've never experienced the pain you and Hal are going through, and I don't even know what to say...
And I especially feel like a great big twit as I sit here bulging with pregnancy #2. It just seems so unfair.
I don't know if this is the right thing to say to you right now, either, but, in the last 3 or 4 years I've had six different couples that are close, real life friends battle with infertility. They have ALL either given birth now or are currently pregnant...
Hang in there, kid. You're young and healthy. This is a horrible time for you, but it isn't the end.
***Virtual Hugs To You.***
Posted by: Gerah | 03/14/2006
Oh, oh. Oh no. Oh, Molly, I am so sorry. I will email you when I get to work, and of course feel free to call if you need anything at all. Really.
Posted by: Alexa | 03/14/2006
Molly,
I am so sorry for what you are going through. It just isn't fair to have that joy ripped away from you like that. Please know I am here if you ever need me. Only a couple hours away.
Take care of yourself.
Posted by: Shanna | 03/14/2006
Oh, Molly, no. No. I'm so sorry.
Posted by: Kath | 03/14/2006
Molly, I'm so terribly sorry. It's miserably unfair. Keep Hal close to you and take care of yourself. And try to remember that this, no matter how may feel, isn't the end.
Posted by: Mellie | 03/14/2006
I'm so sorry, Molly.
Posted by: Suz | 03/14/2006
Fuckety fuck, Molly, I'm so sorry.
Posted by: Emma B | 03/14/2006
I am so sorry.
Posted by: Angela | 03/14/2006
I am soooo very sorry. What a shitty heart wrenching roller coaster.
Take care.
Posted by: md | 03/14/2006
Oh, sweetie! I am so sorry that you've had such a nightmare over the past week. It is just not fucking fair that your joy was so short-lived. I'll join Gerah in giving you the biggest virtual hug that I can, and really wish that there was more that I could do.
Posted by: Nico | 03/14/2006
How horribly heartbreaking for you. I'm so very sorry, Molly. And very very sad for you.
Posted by: pixi | 03/14/2006
Shivers are running down my spine. This is just awful news, I don't know what to say.
Posted by: Lut C. | 03/14/2006
Fuck indeed. In fact, a million "fuck fuck fuck!" 's for you. I'm sorry you had to have this soul-crushing experience, but I'm so glad you aren't afraid to seek comfort from your in-the-computer friends.
Posted by: MsPrufrock | 03/14/2006
I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. The one time I got pregnant was when I was least expecting it (just before I was going to start treatment at a fertility clinic). When something like that happens, you suddenly believe that maybe there are such things as miracles and destiny, and then when it goes away, the pain is unbearable. It sucks, truly sucks. Again, I'm so sorry.
Posted by: Ornery | 03/14/2006
Molly, I am so sorry
Posted by: Sunnie | 03/14/2006
I never managed to conceive, but if i had, I was determined that I would tell people RIGHT NOW, because if all I ever got from a pregnancy was those moments of rejoicing, I WANTED THEM.
So sorry for your loss.
Posted by: Accidental Poet | 03/14/2006
I'm so glad you have your friends in the computer too. Hang on to all of us.
Very very sorry.
Posted by: Panda | 03/14/2006
SONOFABITCH!!!! My heart is breaking for you. I wish I could give you a real live hug in person. I am so so sorry. G-d my heart is breaking. As I was reading I hoped you were one of the the lucky infertiles in the second year.
I'm so sorry. :(
Posted by: Laurie | 03/14/2006
What a rollercoaster, indeed. I am so sorry.
--Bugs
Posted by: deadbugs | 03/14/2006
Oh Molly, how completely awful, to have that exhiliration and then heartbreak. I am so, so sorry.
Posted by: Arwen | 03/14/2006
I'm so sorry.
This sucks such big donkey butt.
Posted by: art-sweet | 03/14/2006
I'm so sorry, this is too cruel. Look after yourself.
Posted by: Meg | 03/14/2006
Oh shit. I am so sorry. I can't imagine the week you have had. I am so sorry for your loss. hugs from the blogosphere.
xo
Posted by: cali | 03/15/2006
I'm so sorry! I went through this over Thanksgiving, almost exactly as you described it. It sucks, plain and simple.
Posted by: Karen | 03/15/2006
De-lurking to extend my sympathies. I'm truly sorry.
Posted by: Kellie | 03/15/2006
Oh Molly, I'm so sorry. My first pregnancy was almost identical to yours. I know how devasted you feel.
Please take good care of yourself.
Posted by: Megan | 03/15/2006
Oh hell. That truly sucks... I am so sorry.
Posted by: B. Mare | 03/15/2006
I hope you can somehow hold onto the memory of the joy...so sorry.
Posted by: Donna | 03/15/2006
Oh Molly, I'm so sorry. I was there myself just three months ago - the success we'd started to think wouldn't happen, the elation, then the crash. You have a lot of support out here from lurkers like me as well as your regular commenters. Thinking of you.
Posted by: Carrie P | 03/15/2006
Oh Babe.
That sucks so hard. So so so hard.
I'm thinking of you today and keeping you and H close to my heart. It's so unfair when the universe pulls a cruel "Gotcha!" on you.
Hugs.
-D.
Posted by: Donnie | 03/15/2006
I am so so sorry. What an utterly crappy end to what should have been great news.
Thinking of you.
Posted by: Larisa | 03/16/2006
I'm so very sorry Molly, this must be unbelievably sad and hurtful. I wish you could have made us all jealous.
Posted by: thalia | 03/16/2006
To have it snatched away from you like that...so cruel. I am so very sorry for you and your partner, Molly.
Posted by: Pamplemousse | 03/16/2006
Oh man I'm so sorry. Just so damn sorry.
(((hugs))) oh and some of these too: (((mojitos)))
Posted by: Mary-Mia | 03/16/2006
Oh Molly, I'm late getting over here and just found out today. I am so sorry. Infertiles should NEVER have to experience miscarriages or any other obstetrical mishap -- never.
Posted by: wessel | 03/16/2006
I wish we could join all of our "I'm sorry"s together to make a big warm blanket that you could wrap around yourself right now. Does that even make sense? I hope so...Please know we're all out here thinking of you and that we are all so, so sorry.
Posted by: FertilityFauxPas | 03/16/2006
I am so, so sorry.
Posted by: MFA Mama | 03/16/2006
How shocking. How heartbreaking. I'm so sorry for your loss.
Posted by: Julie | 03/16/2006
Molly.... oh, Molly...
I am simply so so sorry....
Much affection to you both.
Posted by: Manuela | 03/16/2006
Molly, I am so terribly sorry that this has happened. What a cruel, cruel twist. I am thinking of you both. It is so unfair.
Posted by: Mary Scarlet | 03/17/2006
Smooches, lovey. Just wanted to pop 'round to let you know you are still in my thoughts.
Posted by: Manuela | 03/18/2006
There are no words, just know that you are in my thoughts.
Posted by: Beth | 03/20/2006
Molly, I just checked in to find this entry waiting. I'm so, so sorry to hear what you are going through. Sarge and I had the same experience last year around this time, although we didn't get to tell anyone because it was over so fast. It's so crappy. I wish I knew what to say to help you feel better.
Posted by: Flicka | 03/21/2006
I just wondered here, to your blog. I can't even remember where I was coming from now. I am so sorry. I was screaming, cheering for you, then yelling at you to double check the HPT you threw away, and then I congratulated you when you did just that...and WHOOPED when you saw a line...and then tears welled up in my eyes as I continued to read. because I know all too well what you just went through, and I am so very, very sorry.
Will add you to my "blogs I read daily" list. Glad I found you.
Posted by: Amber | 03/22/2006
God that was a cruel twist of fate---I sometimes think about what I would feel like to be in that position, only to hurriedly put the thought away again. IF is hard enough by itself. Adding a mc to the mix is unimaginable and horrifying to contemplate. I literally get sick to my stomach. Please hang in there and I wish you peace. Eat lots of chocolate (that helps me).
BeckyZ
P.S. I'm on day 28 currently, and going out of my skull cause I KNOW I o'ed 14 days ago...thought I'd write this post to curse myself into a visit with aunt flo. So here goes...
Posted by: BeckyZ | 03/23/2006
Oh, I am so, so sorry. That was quite a rollercoaster, and I was right there on it in that post.
What a dubious acheivement to be the "1 in ...." for all those stats. I'm right there with you. I think it hurts even more when something you thought you might never have is taken away.
Posted by: Joie | 03/26/2006
The comments are closed.