I was doing really good.  Really.  And not in the way that I was trying to be doing good.  I really was feeling good and positive about getting some concrete answers and trying again.  Then starting yesterday, he found me.

The Miscarriage Monster is a real sneaky one.  He has the quietest footsteps ever.  He can creep up from behind me without as much as a sound, but when I see his face, he is taunting me to cry.  No real good reason for the tears, but crying fuels him.  If a tear happens to slip from my eye, he feels so powerful.  He stops tiptoeing and walks there right next to me bobbing along just waiting for a few more tears to fall so that he can really get under my skin.  While I was busy ignoring him,  he walks me past the maternity clothes at Target.  Bastard. 

I turn away and quickly move past the spring dresses and flowy tops.  I look at the Men's section instead of looking at the couples looking quizzically at the bottles and breastpumps and arrive safely at the intended destination.  As I am about to head to the cash registers, I realize that I should probably pick up some ovulation tests so that I can see how messed up my cycle is going to be.  As I walk past the vaginal creams, lubricants, and condoms, I reach for the ovulation tests.  Then, in the corner of my eye, that blasted Miscarriage Monster is rolling around on the floor, calling far too much attention to me.  I shouldn't be buying ovulation tests.  I am not supposed to be here.  I am supposed to be feeling ill from the smell of Starbucks wafting through the air.  I am supposed to be holding my jeans together with a rubber band because I am so bloated.  I am supposed to be deciding how and when to tell my everyone the big news.  I am supposed to be pregnant. 

But, I am not pregnant anymore.  I am not looking forward to an ultrasound next week.  I am only hoping to find out why my body keeps doing this.  I need answers. I want to celebrate my next pregnancy without the fear that the Miscarriage Monster will get another stab at me.  I hate him.

As a girl with a long history of miscarriages, there is nothing better than being able to know that a pregnancy is heading in the right direction without leaving the comfort of my home.  This is especially the case in those first weeks before anything can be seen on an ultrasound.  Since I knew that hCG needs to double every 2-3 days I was able to monitor my hCG levels even after my doctor stopped following me with blood draws.

My first blood draw was 53.8 so two days later I knew that it should have been at about the 100 level so I used a Detect5 to see if that was in fact the case. 

What a relief!  The next morning my blood levels were 157!  Then just as a girl with a history of losses tends to do, I was over analyzing those two numbers.  Were they good enough.  They were normal but was it high enough?  What better way to confirm that things were fine?  A few days later, I used another Detect5!

Whoohoo!  My hCG was at least 500 so it was still doubling right on schedule!  It really put my mind at ease for another couple of days.

Being able to monitor those levels really helped me remain calm and reassured me that things were headed in the right direction.

Unfortunately, just having a pregnancy start out really well doesn't mean that it always ends with a baby.  After an abrupt loss of symptoms, spotting, and cramping, it was confirmed on Friday that I did miscarry.  Even so, I was happy to have a way to give me peace of mind in those early days.  I will absolutely use more of these tests with my next pregnancy!  I pray that next time, I get to see the lines all the way at 10,000 show up!

When I was trying to conceive baby #2 and kept miscarrying, no matter when it happened, I was devastated. Maybe it was my coping mechanism, but I would find myself carrying Gavin in his carrier, 3 bags of groceries, and a gallon of milk up the basement stairs and think to myself, "I am not sure how I would have managed if I was pregnant. I have enough on my plate as it is." Or Gavin would go through a phase where he would need me more than usual, was more active, or more labor intensive, and I would think to myself, "God must have seen this coming and knew that I wouldn't have been able to handle this as well if I was dealing with morning sickness, being exhausted, or big and pregnant. It wasn't like my pregnancy with Joey was perfect but, when I was barfing my brains out, Gavin was content to watch an episode of Little Einsteins. I wasn't exhausted because Gavin was sleeping until 8:30 or 9:00am. And by the time I was big and pregnant, Gavin was thriving on being independent. So, really timing for my pregnancy was perfect.

I started my period last week after being taunting with just enough spotting to tease me into googling the crap out of implantation spotting. Nah. Just Aunt Flo stopping by to check out the accommodations before moving in her stuff. Disappointing? Yes. But until we get Doug's health in check, me dealing with morning sickness, going to the doctor weekly for monitoring, juggling Doug's medical appointments, all while somehow managing Gavin, Mr. I Live in Time Out, and Joey, Mr. If It Can Hurt Me, I Will Find a Way To Get It? Dare I say impossible?

As much as I want to be pregnant again, I know that God knew what was headed my way. He knew it would be too much. And now the confession: I weaned early partly so that I could start trying for #3. Whew. There. It is out. As Joey's first birthday is approaching and I think about how I should just now be weaning, I can't help but wonder if the fact that I have been trying for 8 months with no success is God's way of saying that I made a wrong decision about weaning when I did. Who am I to challenge God's plan and give Joey formula to circumvent the way things should have gone.

There is no sense in me dwelling on the decisions that were made 7 months ago but last week, as I sat in Doug's hospital room, I realized that I need to really follow God's lead. With as painful as it is to watch the pregnant world pass me by, I know that when God hands me another child, I will look back and say, "Thank you God for your perfect timing! Again!"


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Last night I had an opportunity to participate in a twitter chat hosted by Unspoken Grief about why talking about perinatal loss is so taboo. While it was a really interesting topic of conversation, I must be too long winded (or whatever the typewritten equivalent is) to make a point in 150 characters or less. So, after the chat last night and thoughts lingering in my head today, I have a few theories.

The first is that people that have had losses aren't sure how to bring it up, when to bring it up, and who to bring it up to. When the WalMart Cashier offers the obligatory, "How are you today?" we may be thinking of nothing other than how we are still healing after the loss of a much wanted child but we say, "Fine. Thanks." If we run into an old friend at a grocery story and they ask us, "What's new?" it isn't easy to spill our emotions out in front of the cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli. We say, "Not much. You?" When our parents ask how we are feeling, we don't want to have them worry that we are are never going to crawl out of the dark place so we just say, "Doing okay. Still sad, but I'll manage." So, why don't we talk about our losses. I think we are trying to protect others from the sadness, hurt, and tears. We save those moments for when we are all alone.

Another theory is that there are a few things that people don't feel comfortable talking about. Bleeding from one's vagina is one of them. While we might say, "I had a miscarriage." and be talking about the emotional loss, someone who hasn't had a loss might think this comment is akin to saying, "Let me tell you about my menstrual cycle." Well, this is an awkward conversation to have now isn't it? If someone is having explosive diarrhea they would never dream of mentioning that in typical conversation with their next door neighbor. If they were asked about their health, for whatever reason, they would probably say they were having digestive issues or dealing with some "bug" that has been going around. They would never say that they have spent the last 3 days captive in the bathroom to the extent that there may be a permanent impression of the toilet seat encircling their nether regions. If they were gutsy enough to say, "I'm having diarrhea." The neighbor would probably give a sympathetic look and say, "Oh. I'm sorry. That really stinks." (no pun intended) Ironically, this would probably be almost the identical comment that the neighbor would make after being told about a miscarriage. Since no one wants to hear an apology similar to one that would be made for a horrid bout of the runs, we just skip mentioning it altogether.

Then there are the well meaning comments, and suggestions that no grieving mother wants to hear. So rather than subject ourselves to the advice, stories about people they know who had the same thing happen, and the "you'll have another baby" lines, we just keep our mouth clamped shut. Bring on the small talk so that we can get home and be alone with our thoughts.

For the past couple of years I have tried to be more open regarding my losses. When people ask me if I am going to have more children or learn that we are trying, I share my history. I don't get too in depth but I do tell people that I had 6 losses in between my two successful pregnancies. They do instantly give me the shocked look which is quickly followed by the sympathetic look. The shocked look isn't all that much different than the look I get when I say that I'll have as many children as God wants me to have. I hope that my sharing about my losses with help others not feel so awkward when it comes to talking about their own.

Do you talk about your loss(es)? Why or why not?

I have posted before about how I went through so much testing and wild attempts to "save" my pregnancies. All the tests came back normal, aside from the MTHFR and the PAI-1, but nothing that clearly explained my losses. I tried the progesterone, prescription Folic Acid, and the Lovenox and nothing did the trick. I know that so many other women are in the same position I am with recurrent losses and nothing in the way of an explanation. Doug and I talked about how there are just so many things that may or may not contribute to a possible miscarriage. There is just no way for any doctor to possible know all of the things to even test for. Our bodies are so intricate and complicated that there must be a million different possible "glitches" that could take place that results in a loss.

This may seem oddly placed but let me tell you a little bit about my morning. After waking up earlier than I would have liked I changed Joey's diaper. He has been fighting a bit of a diaper rash so I put some Calmoseptine on his bottom and then since that stuff is like Spackle, I used a wipe to get the remaining cream off of my finger. I then headed to the kitchen to get breakfast ready. After prepping 3 different unique breakfasts, I had made a bit of a mess so cleaned up with some Mr. Clean (with Febreeze). Then after eating I went to get ready to go to my exercise class. Brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on deodorant, etc. and got dressed.

Pretty mundane as far as morning routines go but lets go back and think about what I really did. In a matter of about 40 minutes my skin absorbed the chemicals of the diaper cream, the wipes, the kitchen cleaner, the toothpaste, face wash, deodorant, and when I put on my clothes I was coming into contact with the laundry detergent, fabric softener, and dryer sheets. Interestingly enough, I just realized today that the Mr. Clean Kitchen and Bathroom cleaner says that if it is used on any surface in which food comes into direct contact a rinse is required. So from now on I have to clean up my kitchen after I use my kitchen cleaner. Great news.

I don't think that God designed our bodies to come into contact with so many chemicals. We are soaking up so many things that our bodies just don't know what to do with. I am going to make it a goal of mine to get back to basics as much as possible. I want to use only the products that my 98 year old grandmother used in her youth. I don't know if this has anything to do with my losses but I do know that limiting my exposure, and the boys' exposure, to toxins can't hurt them. And while there is no way of knowing, maybe, just maybe, this will help protect my future children, too.