This week has been a whirlwind of emotions. I've noticed that the more I sleep, the less I suffer, unless of course I'm having the excessive amount of nightmares that come all too often.
We went away for a quick 36 hour trip, I wanted to stay away for a week. I always want to be "away".
Away from reality, away from everyday, away from the depression, away from bountiful amounts of children playing in the beautiful summer weather. Away from it all, away from my life, just away...........
So my hubby has been having a lot of anxiety and reflux lately. He says it's stress related from being around me. I am in a constant state of angst. He's right! The agony I feel is boundless and I live with it and feel it each and every day.
In the past few months, when I would just let it all out and cry the big storms of tears, hubby would say he just couldn't take it anymore. So I made it a habit after that to try and hold in the anguish and only unload while either in my car, I could be alone screaming and crying, or be in the car on the phone with a dear understanding friend. Lots of times on the treadmill on the phone with the same, or out of the house in person, torturing another venting source.
I have been really appreciative of the compassion these true friends have endlessly offered me. It has been of extreme help most times.
The truth however is, if I try to hide and internalize the pain and torment, it consumes me and I become a ferocious wreck bursting with angst and fury. So hubby shared on our trip home some new information. All of his friends have noticed the negative energy/angst irradiating off of me. So he then suggested on the way home from our quick little trip, that I should never hold it in anymore. I have to cry and get it out, YOU THINK?
And so I did, over most of the 3 hour ride home. It became harder to see and my eyes were very swolen for two days. It was apparant that I successfully let it all out. And it did feel good to do so. Then that night, still upset over coming home so quickly when I needed to have a few days of escape, I popped another pill and had a few more drinks, and cried again for hours with 2 different friends on the phone. I sure as shit let it all out.
Fast forward to last night. My friends 40th birthday. She has two children. They were being babysat for the night. So a few of her closest friends got together, and they got a room. We went for mexican, and drinks back at the hotel bar, and celebrated. I dragged myself out regardless of my depression, because this was indeed an important milestone birthday for her. Two of her friends that stayed with her overnight were considerably older, in their 50s and 60. The other friend a couple of years younger than me. I knew there was absolutely no possible way I would be staying over night with the women since the overwhelming sense of depression could hit at any time, especially at bedtime.
I mentioned that I might get my own room. The younger friend had to go back home last night as she was dog sitting and was kind enough to offer to drive up w/me and back with me. She's not a big drinker, and this way I wouldn't be trapped. Perfect! She even offered me my own bedroom back at the house where she was staying. This was a welcome offer. I would not have to drive the rest of the way home until morning. (She was staying in-between my house and the hotel which was at least 45 miles away.)
This wonderful lady is also part of the unfortunate club, involuntarily childless, and she knew my story. On the rides up and back, we spoke the whole time venting about our situations, and it was quite therapeutic. It is so hard to find anyone that can remotely understand any part of this kind of life, or non-existance.
During dinner, the older friends and the birthday girl had about a 15 minute conversation about shows they went to with their kids, talked about the kids, blah, blah, blah. While the other friend and I had nothing to contribute, she excused herself and went to the bathroom. I had just gone a few minutes before so I was trapped to stare into space and pray for the conversation to end. It's so wonderful to feel like an outsider/outcast when these conversations go on and on and on. It's like I'm invisible, and this is how I do feel in life, invisible, empty, and useless.
When the other friend came back and I told her that sitting through their conversation was unbearable, she said to try not to let it bother me. She copes with these situations much better than I do, but then again, was too terrified to ever try infertility treatments and go through the torment she knows I went through. She says she could never live through it. She just never got pregnant and is trying to learn to live with it.
After dinner we hung out at the hotel bar/club for a couple of hours, I sat on a stool for 90% of the night, no desire to dance, just really wanted to get out of there, but held out to try and be a good friend and celebrate her special night. Infertile friend's brother showed up to join us. Nice guy going through a divorce. Of course he has 2 boys, 13 and 15, and asked me "you have boys or girls?"
The night would never be complete without someone asking me the most painful question I encounter during just about every single day/night out of my life if I choose to leave the house and socialize.
I answered, "Unfortunately I have none, and he changed the subject. What a relief, but the knife in the gut still gutted me, as it always will.
I used to be the life of the party, the fun-crazy happy one, that person I used to be. I don't know her anymore, and neither does anyone else. It seems she's gone forever :( I guess she slowly died with the infertile hell, and finally was buried permanently after the miscarraige of the triplets.
So much for a night out, but good to get away from home base, at least for a few hours.
Time to go on the treadmill to try and release some of the anguish/anxiety.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
To Post or not to Post, that is the question?
Hello, I'm back although I was apprehensive to come back. It seems that each time I come here to post or re-read my blog, it brings me back to a shitty place called reality, and sometimes, I just don't feel up to it.
After I started this blog, I told the friends that I wanted to share it with to check it out. One friend of mine doesn't have a computer and therefore cannot access the blog. She is anxious for me to read it to her, she asked me to last night. I couldn't do it. The problem is, that as of last night I fell into one of my deeper depressions, and I felt that it would be even worse if I read her the blog of my harsh reality.
Why did I get so depressed, there must have been a trigger? Now, don't get me wrong, I am usually always depressed and have learned to chug along and deal with it. But the triggers are what usually hit me like a mack truck. There can be any type of triggers at any time, they are always lurking around, waiting to strike, without warning, without protection.
This time it was a friend of mine telling me that a friend of hers wasn't sure her very new pregnancy was viable, the doctor hadn't found a heartbeat. The pregnancy is so new, about 5 1/2 weeks, so the doctor said to come back in a week and hopefully she would have a better visit and there would be one. She is having a bad feeling. I hope she is wrong and that she gets to see/hear a viable heartbeat, I really do.
Within 10 minutes of this communication, all of a sudden, it just hit me, BAM! There was no escape. All of a sudden my mind went back to November, the day when I heard the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard in my life, my baby's heartbeat. And then I got to hear the other baby's, bup boop, bup boop, bup boop, bup boop, so quickly, so strong, so amazing, so surreal, it was a dream. I was in la la land.
My girlfriend had come along to support me. She was even happier than I could be since I was in such a state of shock and fear. The third baby also had a heartbeat too but the doctor was in a rush that day and only gave me one sonogram picture as he rushed my visit. He was about to leave for vacation. I didn't get to hear the third baby's heartbeat, he was pressed for time. He promised me he would give me plenty more sonogram pictures of my babies on my next visit, or so he thought he would. That day would never come.
So last night, I cried, and I cried, and I cried, grieving the death of my dream, of my three babies that perished before my visit to the high-risk doctor. There would be no more heartbeats, no more sonogram pictures, no more dreams. It was over. And so I cried last night, thinking that if even one of my babies would have survived my lethal body, I would have been holding it right now, and it would be almost one month old. But that wasn't reality, that was a fantasy. Oh what a fool I was. Schmuck!!!!!!!
Reality is my broken heart. Reality is, my dream that became a nightmare. Reality is, not being able to sleep through the night, ever. Not even after a bunch of drinks, or vicodin, or valium.
I have so many nightmares. I wake up at least 5 times a night, thanks to my mental state, thanks to cystitis from all of the trauma to my uterus that destroyed my pelvic floor and therefore giving me the cystitis. I wake up to either pee, or from my dreams, from my restless tortured mind. I always wake up.
It's so damn ironic how many things remind me of how much I've been through, how much I have lost, and how much I will never have.
So, to post or not to post. In one way it helps me to vent my frustration and my sadness, my heartache, and my trauma. I am sure I suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder.
But in another way, it is giving in to reality. To failure. To the body that has failed me, that I despise.
I can't bear to see or be around any pregnant woman. While I was going through the cycling and infertility fight, I couldn't stand to be around any pregnant women, but after the losses, it has become even more impossible. I become extremely agitated, angry, and bitter. This is not the person I used to before, before infertility.
Did you even notice the stupid glow and smirk these pregnant women have on their faces? They think the world revolves around them. They hold their stomach most of the time. Do I really have to be subjected to this bullshit?
I most certainly can't bear to be around babies. This is something that pushes me over the edge. I feel like I can absolutely LOSE IT. I wish that I could find restaurants that were "kid-unfriendly". Why the fuck can't I eat in peace without a woman sitting at the table right next to us and sitting her fucking baby right down on the table top, talking the stupid baby talk, trying to engage the entire place, it's all about her and her baby, right?
I will never be the person I was before infertility and miscarraige. I used to be the person that would say, "I could have fun anywhere, as long as I'm with my friends or people that I love"
I was a very social human being. I enjoyed life so much. That was the old me.
The new me is much different. I am now much less social. I dread social events. I dread the opportunity for someone I don't know to ask me, "how many kids do you have?" or "do you have any children?" I dread for people that I used to know that I haven't seen for a while to ask me that. It's all anyone wants to talk about these days. Kids, grandkids, whatever!
What do I have to add to the conversation? And trust me, I certainly don't want to hear, or better yet, I DON'T CARE about your kids/grandkids. Do you have a life other than them?
There is no safe place. I try to have a life. I try to get out. I don't want all this baby shit being shoved down my throat.
The new me smiles much less. The new me is not very happy anymore. The new me?
I don't even know her, and truthfully, sometimes I don't like her, she's so fuckin miserable. She is angry. She has been let down by her body, by most of her family, and lots of her friends.
It's at the absolute worst time in your life when you find out who your true friends are, and they aren't the ones that avoid you or ignore you in your time of pain and suffering.
But that's okay, because I have taken on a new rule:
Do unto others as THEY HAVE DONE FOR YOU. After every thing that I have been through, trust me, it makes total sense.
In the old days, before and even during the infertility fight of hell, I was ALWAYS the person you could count on. The person who would ALWAYS give support. The person you could could turn to for anything.
These days I have to use all of my resources to survive since support is so hard to find. Each day being an uphill battle for emotional survival. I don't have much left to give, at least not to the people who were emotionally unvailable to me.
Okay, I think I have rambled on enough.
Let's discuss today's events.
Today I went to the beach with my husband. It wasn't crowded. There were a few kids around, of course. I can handle the older ones even when they throw a ball that lands at my feet. It's the little ones I can't deal with in my face.
I have told my husband that I absolutely will not EVER go to the beach on the weekends. I swear to you I have seen at least 3-4 very pregnant women each weekend, at least 6 months along wearing bikinis. Let's be sure the world sees that pregnancy bump! I don't know how I refrain from vomiting when this happens. I have found it wiser and safer to avoid weekends at the beach.
Every time we go to the beach we deliberately walk further away on the sand to try and find a very unpopulated spot for some peace. Today, we find that spot. It last about 2 hours. This is a very uncrowded section of beach. There is no reason for ANYONE to get close to our proximity. But of course, it happens. A pack of morons with a baby stroller park themselves no less than 6 feet in back of my husband. The baby won't shut the fuck up. It's crying. I feel my guts swirling inside of me. I am the type that would say love to say something like, "there's miles of beach, did you find it absolutely necessary to camp yourself right on top of us?" but of course my husband would kill me. Normally he would be angry with me for doing something like this. I just asked him what he would have done if I had said something, and he answered, probably nothing. Note to self for the next time this crap happens.
One thing I have not mentioned is that my husband is not the one who wanted a baby, in fact, he never waned a baby, but I will save that story for another post.
He has done what he needed to do through 11 ivfs and 4 iui's even though he never wanted a baby, and for that I am extremely grateful.
I truly believe that he has lost the person that he fell in love with because she left this life a few years ago. He now lives with a different woman. One who doesn't have the zest for life that she used to. One that surely isn't as funny and silly as she used to be.
One who smiles much less. One that looks forward to much less.
I try to distract myself and make as many plans as possible to keep myself busy. It seems that reality always comes back to hit me in the head like a baseball bat. Still I exist to endure another childless day. I'm trying very hard to live this life that I have been dealt. To live out this jail sentence for a crime that I never remembered committing.
Sorry for this miserable post today. I don't want to be a miserable person all of the time, but then again, how do you stay positive when the only thing you ever wanted to be when you grew up, was taken away from you. Something completely "normal" and "natural" that you never would have thought would be IMPOSSIBLE.
To Post or not to Post. Maybe I should've poured another glass of wine instead?
I'm going to call my friend now, the one who wanted me to read the blog to her. Hopefully she will pick up and I can read it to her, while I have the nerve. While I am on a role.
Good night.
After I started this blog, I told the friends that I wanted to share it with to check it out. One friend of mine doesn't have a computer and therefore cannot access the blog. She is anxious for me to read it to her, she asked me to last night. I couldn't do it. The problem is, that as of last night I fell into one of my deeper depressions, and I felt that it would be even worse if I read her the blog of my harsh reality.
Why did I get so depressed, there must have been a trigger? Now, don't get me wrong, I am usually always depressed and have learned to chug along and deal with it. But the triggers are what usually hit me like a mack truck. There can be any type of triggers at any time, they are always lurking around, waiting to strike, without warning, without protection.
This time it was a friend of mine telling me that a friend of hers wasn't sure her very new pregnancy was viable, the doctor hadn't found a heartbeat. The pregnancy is so new, about 5 1/2 weeks, so the doctor said to come back in a week and hopefully she would have a better visit and there would be one. She is having a bad feeling. I hope she is wrong and that she gets to see/hear a viable heartbeat, I really do.
Within 10 minutes of this communication, all of a sudden, it just hit me, BAM! There was no escape. All of a sudden my mind went back to November, the day when I heard the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard in my life, my baby's heartbeat. And then I got to hear the other baby's, bup boop, bup boop, bup boop, bup boop, so quickly, so strong, so amazing, so surreal, it was a dream. I was in la la land.
My girlfriend had come along to support me. She was even happier than I could be since I was in such a state of shock and fear. The third baby also had a heartbeat too but the doctor was in a rush that day and only gave me one sonogram picture as he rushed my visit. He was about to leave for vacation. I didn't get to hear the third baby's heartbeat, he was pressed for time. He promised me he would give me plenty more sonogram pictures of my babies on my next visit, or so he thought he would. That day would never come.
So last night, I cried, and I cried, and I cried, grieving the death of my dream, of my three babies that perished before my visit to the high-risk doctor. There would be no more heartbeats, no more sonogram pictures, no more dreams. It was over. And so I cried last night, thinking that if even one of my babies would have survived my lethal body, I would have been holding it right now, and it would be almost one month old. But that wasn't reality, that was a fantasy. Oh what a fool I was. Schmuck!!!!!!!
Reality is my broken heart. Reality is, my dream that became a nightmare. Reality is, not being able to sleep through the night, ever. Not even after a bunch of drinks, or vicodin, or valium.
I have so many nightmares. I wake up at least 5 times a night, thanks to my mental state, thanks to cystitis from all of the trauma to my uterus that destroyed my pelvic floor and therefore giving me the cystitis. I wake up to either pee, or from my dreams, from my restless tortured mind. I always wake up.
It's so damn ironic how many things remind me of how much I've been through, how much I have lost, and how much I will never have.
So, to post or not to post. In one way it helps me to vent my frustration and my sadness, my heartache, and my trauma. I am sure I suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder.
But in another way, it is giving in to reality. To failure. To the body that has failed me, that I despise.
I can't bear to see or be around any pregnant woman. While I was going through the cycling and infertility fight, I couldn't stand to be around any pregnant women, but after the losses, it has become even more impossible. I become extremely agitated, angry, and bitter. This is not the person I used to before, before infertility.
Did you even notice the stupid glow and smirk these pregnant women have on their faces? They think the world revolves around them. They hold their stomach most of the time. Do I really have to be subjected to this bullshit?
I most certainly can't bear to be around babies. This is something that pushes me over the edge. I feel like I can absolutely LOSE IT. I wish that I could find restaurants that were "kid-unfriendly". Why the fuck can't I eat in peace without a woman sitting at the table right next to us and sitting her fucking baby right down on the table top, talking the stupid baby talk, trying to engage the entire place, it's all about her and her baby, right?
I will never be the person I was before infertility and miscarraige. I used to be the person that would say, "I could have fun anywhere, as long as I'm with my friends or people that I love"
I was a very social human being. I enjoyed life so much. That was the old me.
The new me is much different. I am now much less social. I dread social events. I dread the opportunity for someone I don't know to ask me, "how many kids do you have?" or "do you have any children?" I dread for people that I used to know that I haven't seen for a while to ask me that. It's all anyone wants to talk about these days. Kids, grandkids, whatever!
What do I have to add to the conversation? And trust me, I certainly don't want to hear, or better yet, I DON'T CARE about your kids/grandkids. Do you have a life other than them?
There is no safe place. I try to have a life. I try to get out. I don't want all this baby shit being shoved down my throat.
The new me smiles much less. The new me is not very happy anymore. The new me?
I don't even know her, and truthfully, sometimes I don't like her, she's so fuckin miserable. She is angry. She has been let down by her body, by most of her family, and lots of her friends.
It's at the absolute worst time in your life when you find out who your true friends are, and they aren't the ones that avoid you or ignore you in your time of pain and suffering.
But that's okay, because I have taken on a new rule:
Do unto others as THEY HAVE DONE FOR YOU. After every thing that I have been through, trust me, it makes total sense.
In the old days, before and even during the infertility fight of hell, I was ALWAYS the person you could count on. The person who would ALWAYS give support. The person you could could turn to for anything.
These days I have to use all of my resources to survive since support is so hard to find. Each day being an uphill battle for emotional survival. I don't have much left to give, at least not to the people who were emotionally unvailable to me.
Okay, I think I have rambled on enough.
Let's discuss today's events.
Today I went to the beach with my husband. It wasn't crowded. There were a few kids around, of course. I can handle the older ones even when they throw a ball that lands at my feet. It's the little ones I can't deal with in my face.
I have told my husband that I absolutely will not EVER go to the beach on the weekends. I swear to you I have seen at least 3-4 very pregnant women each weekend, at least 6 months along wearing bikinis. Let's be sure the world sees that pregnancy bump! I don't know how I refrain from vomiting when this happens. I have found it wiser and safer to avoid weekends at the beach.
Every time we go to the beach we deliberately walk further away on the sand to try and find a very unpopulated spot for some peace. Today, we find that spot. It last about 2 hours. This is a very uncrowded section of beach. There is no reason for ANYONE to get close to our proximity. But of course, it happens. A pack of morons with a baby stroller park themselves no less than 6 feet in back of my husband. The baby won't shut the fuck up. It's crying. I feel my guts swirling inside of me. I am the type that would say love to say something like, "there's miles of beach, did you find it absolutely necessary to camp yourself right on top of us?" but of course my husband would kill me. Normally he would be angry with me for doing something like this. I just asked him what he would have done if I had said something, and he answered, probably nothing. Note to self for the next time this crap happens.
One thing I have not mentioned is that my husband is not the one who wanted a baby, in fact, he never waned a baby, but I will save that story for another post.
He has done what he needed to do through 11 ivfs and 4 iui's even though he never wanted a baby, and for that I am extremely grateful.
I truly believe that he has lost the person that he fell in love with because she left this life a few years ago. He now lives with a different woman. One who doesn't have the zest for life that she used to. One that surely isn't as funny and silly as she used to be.
One who smiles much less. One that looks forward to much less.
I try to distract myself and make as many plans as possible to keep myself busy. It seems that reality always comes back to hit me in the head like a baseball bat. Still I exist to endure another childless day. I'm trying very hard to live this life that I have been dealt. To live out this jail sentence for a crime that I never remembered committing.
Sorry for this miserable post today. I don't want to be a miserable person all of the time, but then again, how do you stay positive when the only thing you ever wanted to be when you grew up, was taken away from you. Something completely "normal" and "natural" that you never would have thought would be IMPOSSIBLE.
To Post or not to Post. Maybe I should've poured another glass of wine instead?
I'm going to call my friend now, the one who wanted me to read the blog to her. Hopefully she will pick up and I can read it to her, while I have the nerve. While I am on a role.
Good night.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Indulging in cocktails to finally gather the nerve to do this and give in to defeat.
Today I finally started my blog. I should have done this a very long time ago but I thought that I couldn't give in or give up on my dream. Starting this blog would be giving in to defeat, so....... here I am, defeated.
I've been very sad for days, for months, for years, fighting a battle I would never ever win. I swore I would never give up, and I would finally get the prize if i kept up the fight, but I never did.
All that I achieved was beaten up ovaries, "a PHD in reproductive endocrinology", and endless suffering. Just to become a mom. An event that comes so natural to most women in the world. A natural occurance that normally comes from an enjoyable act of making love, or from plain old sex. But, not for me.
I am not normal. My body is one of dysfunction, one of failure. You see, I can not bear a child, actually, I can not keep a baby inside of my dysfunctional body. I have no other diagnosis. There is nothing is wrong with my ovaries, or my fallopian tubes. I don't have endometriosis. I get my period like clockwork. I just have a crazy overactive immune system. I resent my body, for taking away my dream.
At this time, I am of advanced materal age, but I've been trying to get pregnant for 9 years. Now I am 45. I finally found out just 2 years ago, that even in my 20's, my body would not accept a baby. It would fight it like cancer. I have an overactive immune system. This would be considered good if I get cancer. But you know what? I feel like I've been fighting cancer already, for years, and no matter what I do, I cannot win.
I am tired, battered, broken, and beaten. I am weak.
And now I am looking for some sort of outlet. I need to vent, to scream, to cry, to say, why did this happen to me? What did I do to to be in this hell that I can find no escape? What crime did I commit to be in this prison?
I know that I am a good person with a good heart, but in this fight, it means NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!
So finally, I did it, I started a blog.
I need to vent my frustration, to say: I DID NOT DESERVE THIS INFERTILE HELL THAT I SUFFER IN. Will anyone ever hear me?
Most people will never understand the hell that a hopeful, then hopeless infertile will live through, or not want to live through. Most people don't care or can't be bothered.
I have realized through this battle who my real friends are, and thankfully, there are a few, but very few. My circle has become so much smaller. My heart so much more guarded, and my soul is forever scarred.
Most people think that I should just get over it already, I'm sure. Most people could not have survived the war I have fought and lost.
Most people ignorantly say I should just adopt. A band aid to put on a battle wound.
Most people have all the answers you see. Just replace your biological need to reproduce with an adopted baby. It's that easy, right? Just make a phone call, like going to an animal shelter? What breed would you like, such idiots! I guess that's what they assume? They mean well with their limited capacity of compassion.
They do not know, they do not understand, and they certainly don't have the time to try and get it, because they are busy. They have no time for empathy or compassion. They have more important things in life to spend their time on, like their own children for goodness sakes.
Do you think I sound bitter? Well I am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I never wanted to adopt, I wanted my own biological child, a normal desire that is usually obtained quite naturally, or so I thought.
No one wants to deal with this kind of pain. Especially the person living through it.
Today I start my blog, my story, my nightmare. I start sharing it today, finally.
I never thought this is how my life would end up. All I ever wanted to be was a mommy. Not the president, not a moviestar, just a plain old adoring mommy. But a simple dream like this, not obtainable for me!!!!!!!
I never thought that I would end up involuntarily childless. No matter how hard I fought to achieve my dream. I never thought this would happen to me, but it did.
A quick sypnosis: hell, through 11 ivfs, 4 iuis, a miscarriage of three beautiful triplets.
I was really pregnant after my 10th ivf. Most women wouldn't survive more than 3 ivfs, but I wouldn't give up. I almost fainted when I found out that I actually was pregnant, and with three babies. This wouldn't last for very long, in fact it only lasted for a few weeks. My immune system said no! My immune system attacked!
I enjoyed about 4 1/2 weeks of my life this past November-December 2010. The happiest time of my life, ever. I was pregnant. I had three living beautiful souls growing inside of me and they were all mine!
But that ended quickly. My natural killer cells went crazy, as soon I was weaned off of the dexamethesone, and then bam! The beautiful amazing miraculous heartbeats, did not beat anymore. I broke out in a rash, had a fever, and a few days later, all of my babies were dead!
On December 7, 2010, the day that I thought would be one of the best days of my life,a visit at the high risk doctor's office with the large screen to see my babies, was just the opposite, a sight that I would relive over and over again, one that I would never forget for the rest of my life. This was the day I would see my three babies floating in their sacks, DEAD!!!! And my dream ended..........just like that.
Prednisone might have controled this issue, but I can not tolerate predinisone, the reaction is unbearable, talk about an evil joke.
Who ever thought, I would end up a non-mom? Who ever thought that I would suffer through hundreds of injections, ultrasounds, and blood tests, all for nothing?
Who ever thought I would end up with interstitial cysitis instead of a beautiful bouncing baby? How cruel can life be? Every month before my period, pain from the cystitis, and then my period, a constant reminder of everything I've fought for, and everything I have lost.
Life is very very cruel I have found out. Life is not fair. My arms will be forever empty, and my heart will forever ache. I will never ever forget the one time I was actually a mother, when I carried Ariana, Cassidy, and Baby Jean.
The POC, such a disgusting abbreviation, it stands for Products of Conception, showed that I had a baby girl that had trisomy 15, not compatible with life, so she would have not survived. The other two, who knows, boy or girl? I will never know. They found out nothing. There were three babies, but only information on one.
But what I do know is that I loved them with every second that I grew them in my body, and every breath that I breathed while they thrived inside of me.
I named the other two babies, names that could be either a boy or girl, after my Aunt Claire who had died just a couple of weeks before I conceived, and after aunt Judy who died just a few weeks before.
Ariana was after Audrey, my second mom, who also died just a few weeks before I conceived, one of my biggest supporters, and trust me, there weren't many. She wanted me to have a baby so badly. And Ariana was also named after my daddy Al, I so wanted to keep the bloodlines going.
But there was no happy ending to be had. Not for me....................................
And so I start my blog. My babies died 8 months ago. I just had and failed another IVF. For the first time my embryos didn't even make it to transfer. Another crushing event, right after the babies due dates.
When I say it's hard to keep going, this is an understatement.
When I say, I'm really not okay, I'm not kidding, but I do have a buffer, my friend Grey Goose. And so my story is finally being told.
I have just begun to share my story. I wonder how many others are out there that need to share theirs? If only I could find them.
So finally I start my blog.
I've been very sad for days, for months, for years, fighting a battle I would never ever win. I swore I would never give up, and I would finally get the prize if i kept up the fight, but I never did.
All that I achieved was beaten up ovaries, "a PHD in reproductive endocrinology", and endless suffering. Just to become a mom. An event that comes so natural to most women in the world. A natural occurance that normally comes from an enjoyable act of making love, or from plain old sex. But, not for me.
I am not normal. My body is one of dysfunction, one of failure. You see, I can not bear a child, actually, I can not keep a baby inside of my dysfunctional body. I have no other diagnosis. There is nothing is wrong with my ovaries, or my fallopian tubes. I don't have endometriosis. I get my period like clockwork. I just have a crazy overactive immune system. I resent my body, for taking away my dream.
At this time, I am of advanced materal age, but I've been trying to get pregnant for 9 years. Now I am 45. I finally found out just 2 years ago, that even in my 20's, my body would not accept a baby. It would fight it like cancer. I have an overactive immune system. This would be considered good if I get cancer. But you know what? I feel like I've been fighting cancer already, for years, and no matter what I do, I cannot win.
I am tired, battered, broken, and beaten. I am weak.
And now I am looking for some sort of outlet. I need to vent, to scream, to cry, to say, why did this happen to me? What did I do to to be in this hell that I can find no escape? What crime did I commit to be in this prison?
I know that I am a good person with a good heart, but in this fight, it means NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!
So finally, I did it, I started a blog.
I need to vent my frustration, to say: I DID NOT DESERVE THIS INFERTILE HELL THAT I SUFFER IN. Will anyone ever hear me?
Most people will never understand the hell that a hopeful, then hopeless infertile will live through, or not want to live through. Most people don't care or can't be bothered.
I have realized through this battle who my real friends are, and thankfully, there are a few, but very few. My circle has become so much smaller. My heart so much more guarded, and my soul is forever scarred.
Most people think that I should just get over it already, I'm sure. Most people could not have survived the war I have fought and lost.
Most people ignorantly say I should just adopt. A band aid to put on a battle wound.
Most people have all the answers you see. Just replace your biological need to reproduce with an adopted baby. It's that easy, right? Just make a phone call, like going to an animal shelter? What breed would you like, such idiots! I guess that's what they assume? They mean well with their limited capacity of compassion.
They do not know, they do not understand, and they certainly don't have the time to try and get it, because they are busy. They have no time for empathy or compassion. They have more important things in life to spend their time on, like their own children for goodness sakes.
Do you think I sound bitter? Well I am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I never wanted to adopt, I wanted my own biological child, a normal desire that is usually obtained quite naturally, or so I thought.
No one wants to deal with this kind of pain. Especially the person living through it.
Today I start my blog, my story, my nightmare. I start sharing it today, finally.
I never thought this is how my life would end up. All I ever wanted to be was a mommy. Not the president, not a moviestar, just a plain old adoring mommy. But a simple dream like this, not obtainable for me!!!!!!!
I never thought that I would end up involuntarily childless. No matter how hard I fought to achieve my dream. I never thought this would happen to me, but it did.
A quick sypnosis: hell, through 11 ivfs, 4 iuis, a miscarriage of three beautiful triplets.
I was really pregnant after my 10th ivf. Most women wouldn't survive more than 3 ivfs, but I wouldn't give up. I almost fainted when I found out that I actually was pregnant, and with three babies. This wouldn't last for very long, in fact it only lasted for a few weeks. My immune system said no! My immune system attacked!
I enjoyed about 4 1/2 weeks of my life this past November-December 2010. The happiest time of my life, ever. I was pregnant. I had three living beautiful souls growing inside of me and they were all mine!
But that ended quickly. My natural killer cells went crazy, as soon I was weaned off of the dexamethesone, and then bam! The beautiful amazing miraculous heartbeats, did not beat anymore. I broke out in a rash, had a fever, and a few days later, all of my babies were dead!
On December 7, 2010, the day that I thought would be one of the best days of my life,a visit at the high risk doctor's office with the large screen to see my babies, was just the opposite, a sight that I would relive over and over again, one that I would never forget for the rest of my life. This was the day I would see my three babies floating in their sacks, DEAD!!!! And my dream ended..........just like that.
Prednisone might have controled this issue, but I can not tolerate predinisone, the reaction is unbearable, talk about an evil joke.
Who ever thought, I would end up a non-mom? Who ever thought that I would suffer through hundreds of injections, ultrasounds, and blood tests, all for nothing?
Who ever thought I would end up with interstitial cysitis instead of a beautiful bouncing baby? How cruel can life be? Every month before my period, pain from the cystitis, and then my period, a constant reminder of everything I've fought for, and everything I have lost.
Life is very very cruel I have found out. Life is not fair. My arms will be forever empty, and my heart will forever ache. I will never ever forget the one time I was actually a mother, when I carried Ariana, Cassidy, and Baby Jean.
The POC, such a disgusting abbreviation, it stands for Products of Conception, showed that I had a baby girl that had trisomy 15, not compatible with life, so she would have not survived. The other two, who knows, boy or girl? I will never know. They found out nothing. There were three babies, but only information on one.
But what I do know is that I loved them with every second that I grew them in my body, and every breath that I breathed while they thrived inside of me.
I named the other two babies, names that could be either a boy or girl, after my Aunt Claire who had died just a couple of weeks before I conceived, and after aunt Judy who died just a few weeks before.
Ariana was after Audrey, my second mom, who also died just a few weeks before I conceived, one of my biggest supporters, and trust me, there weren't many. She wanted me to have a baby so badly. And Ariana was also named after my daddy Al, I so wanted to keep the bloodlines going.
But there was no happy ending to be had. Not for me....................................
And so I start my blog. My babies died 8 months ago. I just had and failed another IVF. For the first time my embryos didn't even make it to transfer. Another crushing event, right after the babies due dates.
When I say it's hard to keep going, this is an understatement.
When I say, I'm really not okay, I'm not kidding, but I do have a buffer, my friend Grey Goose. And so my story is finally being told.
I have just begun to share my story. I wonder how many others are out there that need to share theirs? If only I could find them.
So finally I start my blog.
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