Friday, February 21, 2014

Today I write about a win, not a loss. I have to appreciate this one!

It's been a rough week, actually a rough few weeks.  My mother was diagnosed with parathyroid disease.  This has been going on for a few years, undiagnosed by a useless doctor she was very attached to for years.  Finally, he retires, and his partner tells her she needs to get surgery.  She is very upset, she dislikes him, she does NOT want to deal with reality.

I get a hold of her last few years of blood work and realize that, yes, in fact, she is in danger.  When your parathyroid glands become abnormal or get growths on them, they prevent the bones in your body from absorbing the much needed calcium a woman needs.  Mom went for a recent bone density test and was diagnosed in the 10th worst percentile for her age group.  This is a very serious condition.

I have now realized that although I have never physically been able to become a mother, and never will, the rolls of course have reversed, and I had to get tough as mom was being very difficult in denial, her safe little world that she lives in.  I had to play mom to her, and demand she behave.

I seeked out and researched the best of the best to find the right doctor and forced her to move forward immediately to begin the process of fixing this disease.  If it goes ignored and untreated, you are sure to lose years from your life, have heart troubles, dementia, many bad things that would deteriorate your life, and mom wasn't digesting it, so I had to act quickly and firmly.

It took me about 2 months to find the right surgeon, take mom for a multitude of test and scans, and then find out that not one but two of these bastards had to be removed, you have 4 in total.

Mom was freaked out and very angry but I was adament and would not let her push this off. She wanted to wait a few months, but I demanded we do this immediately.  This past Wednesday she had the surgery, and they took out the bad glands, and she is doing pretty good.

I am grateful that I found this great surgeon with some help from a few resources and research and although he was very business like and not a warm fuzzy guy, he got a damn big bear hug when he told me that she was okay, and as soon as the blood tests showed success, they would close her up (her neck) and she would go to recovery.  He exited pretty quickly from the waiting area after I hugged him, and then she ended up in recovery and was awake when I got there and squeezed my hand so strongly!

This today is a happy and grateful post.  I am grateful that my mom listened to me and went into the surgery like a soldier, I would have shit myself to be honest with you.

So some peace this weekend, and reflection that life does have some good and you have to open yourself up and appreciate it when it comes, no matter how bad the losses have gutted you, embrace the good as much as you can, drink it like fine wine because there hasn't been enough in my life lately to enjoy.

No talk about the infertile hell tonight, because tonight I celebrate my mom, who I love so much and am so grateful to have. 

But I promise there will be more bitching to come in the near future.  Good night.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

It's a new year, 2014, and sooooo, where do we go from here? Trying to get over yet another loss.

So another year has gone by.  A few months since my last post.  Sometimes I find it hard to come here and drudge up my feelings.  Sometimes I think it might be healthier to try and avoid my blog, to try and resist the feelings I have, not express them, not validate them, and then maybe they will go away?

I think not.  Sometimes when I post I get more depressed from typing the words that I write.  Not today.  I think it feels good right now to let it out.  So here I go again.......................

We had another loss the end of October.  It was a completely unexpected tragedy.  One of my beautiful baby kitties had recurring bladder infections/cystitis.  I was told that she was in a lot of pain.  Of course we gave her the best treatment we could, antibiotics, steroids, pain meds, but an ultrasound showed that she had crystals and needed to have an operation.  Little Mewer at only 5 years old, had to have her 2nd bladder surgery in only 4 years.  I know the pain of the Interstitial Cystitis myself and I didn't want her to suffer another day.  My veterinarian insisted this was a basic routine surgery, and she would be just fine.  Having a cat spayed is more serious.  So I scheduled the surgery that week and made sure she slept with me the night before, I needed her to feel my love and to be close to her.  I brought her in for the surgery and promised her I would not let anyone hurt her.

After dropping her off I went to my regular doctor for an emergency check-up as I had been feeling very dizzy lately and experiencing crushing chest pain.  Turns out my BP which is usually 120 over 70, has now risen to 140 over 90.  He said it's anxiety.  Hmmm, what a surprise.  He prescribed me an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant and I left.  I spent the next couple of hours with my mom shopping for a clothes dryer since mine had broken.  Then I called the vet's office to see how Mewer was and they said she's perfect, come pick her up.  I was thrilled.  I got to the office and the doctor was happy saying the surgery went great, she was very irritated when they had her opened up, but that she was all fixed now, no complications, just take her home and let her rest.  She will be groggy from both the anesthesia and the pain medication.  I stopped for a slice of pizza and ate it in the car, not wanting to disturb her yet.  Then I went home and brought her upstairs to our hall bathroom for a peaceful recovery as we have other cats and I did not want her to be disturbed.  She got up out of the carrier and went to her bed near the heat duct and went to sleep.  I checked on her a few times over the next few hours and she looked tired and groggy, but seemed to be resting comfortably.

I thought everything was fine, my husband was at work and had stopped by and checked on her also, we thought she was fine.  About 5 hours had gone by and I heard a strange meow, but all of the kitties were out and I thought they were just playing around, play fighting, etc., but then a few minutes later I heard it again.  I rushed up to the bathroom where one of my cats was standing outside with a terrified look on her face, the door was closed so she couldn't see anything.

When I opened the door, my baby Mewer was collapsed against the door and bleeding from right below the incision area and she was shaking.  I couldn't get the door open because she was up against it with the injured area facing the door opening.  I scurried to get the other curious kitties out of the way and managed to gently get the door open and scooped her up in a towel and rushed her 5 minutes away to the animal emergency hospital.  I didn't think she was going to make it.  I called to tell them to grab her as soon as I got there, which they did.  The doctor came out about 15 minutes later in shock and told me that she wasn't sure what had happened but she was in critical condition and hemorrhaging.  She was also in shock from losing so much blood.  They said they would give her plasma and then a blood transfusion.

I was shaking in my chair.  How could this happen?  She was suppose to have done just fine! My husband met me at the animal hospital after racing out of work and we both went in to see her, and she was alive but in very critical condition.  We told her we loved her and the doctor said we could call whenever we wanted to check in, and that she would call me with any updates.

I couldn't sleep that night, I called every 2 hours and it seemed like maybe she had a chance.  Finally the doctor called me and said she made it through the transfusion but they couldn't get blood to check anything because her veins were shutting down, she said she would call me back.  I had no idea that this was a very bad sign.  Less than 5 minutes later my husbands phone rang and the doctor said she was in cardiac arrest and not responding to CPR, how long should they keep trying?  He said give her another 5 minutes at least.  She didn't make it.  We lost her.  How could this happen?  We were told she died from a coagulopathy.  Supposedly she couldn't clot after the trauma of the surgery and she slowly bled to death, despite me getting her to the hospital alive, it was too late.

I still look around the house for her and miss her sleeping with me, running outside the door of the house to collapse outside and feel the cool breeze that she loved.  Running over to greet the other kitties with a head butt because she was so loving.  I miss her head butts.

So again, a broken heart.  When the thoughts of her come to my head I try to push them away.  I still miss and love her and grieve her but I can't let myself think about it for very long because it hurts so bad.  I will never forgive myself for what happened even though it's not my fault.  I only know that if I had brought her to a medical center that is open 24 hours, they would have monitored her and been able to detect that something was wrong and perhaps she would be in my lap right now as I type.
I will never ever believe that a surgery is routine ever again.  My kitties will only go to 24 hour medical centers for any medical procedures in the future.

So this year we lost another baby, Mewer the beautiful kitty at 5 years old.  Last year it was our orange pony kitty Sebastian at 6 years old.  His immune system killed him, just like mine killed my babies.

Tattoo number 2 is in the works.  Paw prints on the same leg as my tiny hearts for my three babies.
Four paw prints to start, there will always be more in the future since the only babies I will ever have will be my kitties and nothing lives forever.

Another crappy post, I'm so sorry to share my sad news but this is my life.  And each loss triggers all of the pain I have suffered over the years trying to make my babies and then living with the loss of then, and then my kitties too.

I'm still breathing.  I have some things to be thankful for.  I have my husband, he's stuck around even though I'm not the fun person I used to be.  I'm trying so hard to get some of my old self back. 
I have my mom, who has to have a surgery next month, supposedly a relatively simple procedure, she will be 79.  So I will be scared of course but I have to be strong for her, I need her to stick around.
I still have my other kitties, and my heart patient, the famous poo poo paw will hopefully celebrate his 11th birthday in May.  His last Echo was similar to the last, not worst so that's a hopeful sign that he will try and stick around for me.

After Mewer passed away I went up to my friend's animal hospital upstate and spent time helping out with the precious animals and somehow it gave me some comfort to look in their scared little eyes and tell then I loved them.  I will have to make time to volunteer up there more often in the future.

Lastly, I want to say how appreciative I am that after going through a handful of therapists, I finally found the one that keeps me sane.  She validates my feelings.  She makes me believe that it's okay to protect myself from the land mines in life, and to pick and choose what I will or won't do according to my comfort level.  I am so thankful for you LP xoxo, just in case you are reading this.

Tomorrow I get an MRI of my back, it's been very painful and I'm hoping that maybe we can find a way to make it better. 

Getting older sucks, especially when your body is falling apart.

I know I have to find a way to make myself happier as I come to terms that my life never be complete without the son or daughter I always dreamed of, and that was tortured into actually thinking it might happen when I was pregnant, to be honest with you, I really don't know how many people would have survived the torture I went through with the hundreds of injections, blood tests, ultrasounds, and surgery, but I was determined to win!  But now I have to try to put the little pieces of my crappy puzzle together and try to find peace, or make peace with the life that I have been given.

Future plans:  Travel, as much as possible, try to want to take better care of myself.  Get as much love as I possible can from my kitties.  Take better care of my husband and try not to neglect him.
Spend as much time with my mom while she is on this earth, hopefully another 30 years, at least.

It has been a little over 3 years since I lost my babies.  It still hurts, I am still angry and fragile, but I guess I have become a little bit stronger with time.  Life is so short, I have to try and get the most I can out of the shitty hand that I have been dealt. 

I'm hoping next post will be lighter.  Infertile Hell has taken so much from me, maybe it's time I start fighting back! 

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

I've stayed away from my own reality for a while and having checked my blog, I found some responses and decided it was time to post again

First I want to thank each and every one of you for commenting on my previous posts.  Unfortunately I have not yet figured out how to reply, even when I'm signed in.

Rosie, I wish you the best of luck, I know you just posted to me a few days ago.  It's strange that I just happened to check in at this time after so many months.

I think it's been about 9 months since my last post, (irony) and I have some new life in my home but they meow.  I'm very happy to have them, enjoy their love and devotion.

One of our first beautiful boys is very sick, his heart is getting worse and the inevitable was explained to me that I will be lucky to have him for a few more months.  He just joined me at the computer, he is so connected to me, it is surreal.  He sleeps with me every night.  I just came home from a weekend runaway, still up to my running away, and my husband said kitty kept him awake for the 2 nights that I was gone meowing/screaming running around looking for me.  Being a furr mommy is a blessing but unfortunately, it promises definite heartbreak with the life expectancy of these incredibly loving creatures.  This guy is only 10 years old, had him since he was 7 months, lost his brother to his heart disease in 2009. 

Life is full of pain and loss, each one seems to wake up the trauma of my journey through hell (Infertility) which I have never been able to escape, and don't feel too confidant that there is any way I will ever get over the fight, struggle, suffering, loss, suffering, etc.  I am forever haunted.

Been to many doctors over the last few months, declining health, diagnosed with Fibromyalgia in addition to my upper extremity nerve damage, hip bursitis, and lower back degeneration.  This in addition to my Interstitial Cystitis (torturously painful condition) has really kept me busy, and the clincher is, Fibromyalgia just exacerbates all of the other illnesses.

Irony again:  Fibromyalgia is an illness that shoots out pain from the brain into the nerve and muscles and makes every ache and pain magnified by 100 according to my Rheumatologist who knows my infertile hell history.  She is sure that I suffer from PTSD,  from the years of infertility treatments, and finally the pregnancy, and then, THE DAY THAT CHANGED MY LIFE FOREVER, when my body killed my beautiful babies.

So, a lot has happened since my last post, and yes, I'm feeling very sorry for myself.  I have a very dear friend who has 2 children that I am thrilled to share my life with.  Only trouble is she says she thinks I like being miserable.  She says she has her own losses, being alone raising two young children.  She thinks she will be alone forever.  This sucks too!  Only difference is she's beautiful and younger, and chances are she will find a great guy she truly deserves, she just has to! 

But I, will never have a child, be a mother, a member of that very incredible club of "Normal" human beings that talk about their kids.  It's a club that I will NEVER belong to, and it hurts like hell.

Why was I dealt this life that sometimes I don't feel like I want to be here anymore.  Sometimes it just feels like a waste of time and breath.

Almost 3 years have gone by since I lost the babies, 7 years since I started fighting the infertility ride of horror, never knowing I never had a chance to win.  Every one always says, stay optimistic, pray to god, it will happen, but no one ever hears the story about the woman who actually never succeeded. 

I wonder, should I write a book about Infertile Hell and how there are a choice few who never get the happy ending?  I would really like some feedback on this.

I have a husband, and a mother.  I have some great friends and wonderful pussycats.  I am very lucky, but, I WILL ALWAYS BE ALONE, NEVER  BE A MEMBER OF THE CLUB, AND ALWAYS BE TORTURED BY THAT DAMN COMMERICAL ON TV THAT SAYS:
Surprise, you're having triplets.
Or the commercial from sleepy's furniture that starts off with the happy pregnant woman lying on bed with her hubby,
or be tortured by the headlines of every news show, magazine, newspaper,
BLAH BLAH is pregnant!  It's all over the place and there is no safe place to hide!

No one, not even my family cares or bothers to see how I am, they just go on with their happy little lives.  No one wants to deal with the miserable one that can't just suck it up and move on.
Am I unrealistic to say that sometimes, YOU JUST DON'T GET OVER IT, SOMETIMES THERE IS NO HAPPY ENDING?

I got myself a mother's day present this year, as I do every year, but this time it wasn't only a present that I bought myself since I was a mother for almost a full trimester.  This time I also got a tattoo of three tiny hearts on my foot, at 47 years old.  Those precious heartbeats I was able to see and hear back in November 2010.  I can see them on my feet now, and they will be with me forever. 
Even though, they will never be remembered by any one else in the world, they will always be in my heart.  I am so sad.

Please if anyone wants to get in touch you can go to Facebook, just look for Infertile Hell or email me at

I only hope that no woman who walks in my shoes feels alone.  It is a very sad and isolated place.  As long as I am here, Reach out!

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

A year has gone by since my last post, not much has changed

So here I am, next week is Thanksgiving, 2 years since my pregnancy, and the best month of my life.
I am a year older.  Since my last post, I lost one of my beloved cats at 7 years old, who died from, (irony at it's best), auto-immune hemalimic anemia, did I mispell it?  I'm sure most people don't know what it means.  It means that my poor Sebastian's immune system killed him by eating up all of his red blood cells.  The only children I have are felines, and another one was taken from me.
We tried desparately to save him, 8 blood transfusions, and $14,000 later, he died after a 3 week fight.
My baby cat's immune system killed him, just as my immune system killed my 3 babies!

Boy, life sure has a twisted sense of, I don't even know what to call it, TORTURE!!!!

I am a year older, although I feel many years older.  I have a very painful condition called Interstitial Cystitis.  Here's another kicker, I'm certain it was caused by multiple pelvic trauma from the 11 IVF cycles I did. 

What do I have to show for it?  Interstitial Cystitis.  Anyone who is interested in this horribly painful condition, feel free to look it up.  It's too much to explain. 

So next week is Thanksgiving and I am running away from home again, without my husband, dragging my mother to try and escape the demons that haunt me by distraction.

Next month I will spend the anniversary of my babies death on the beach in Florida on the day they have the Pearl Harbor Memorial Service, the same day as I found out my babies were dead.
I plan on attending and watching the memorial every year in honor of my beloved ones.

Not much more to share.  I have not progressed much in the past year.  I have just aged and feel twice as old as I am.  My heart still aches constantly for the loss of my babies, my dreams, and my future.

I live my life each day, with no real plans for the future.  I just try to distract myself from myself, if that makes any sense.

So a year later, not much to report.  No happy story.  Not much healing.  Just trying to survive and accept what I've been dealt.

I haven't wanted to post anymore because it just brings back the bitterness, but the truth is, the bitterness is tucked deep inside screaming to come out.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Please read the following information regarding infertility and pregnancy loss

I broke my promise, but finally here's a new post

The last few weeks have been so utterly painful.  I have been depressed more than words can say.  Alcohol is a wonderful distraction.

Last year, during thanksgiving I was happily pregnant, had seen all of the babies heartbeats, and my joy was beyond euphoria.  This year is another story.

If everything had gone as it should have, I would have an infant by my side, and I would be posting to a very different type of blog.  But this is my life, one of disappointment, misery, depression, and desperation.

Today I remember that my dreams are over, and my nightmare will never end.

In just a few weeks, it will be the one year anniversary of when I went to the high-risk AMA doctor to see my beautiful babies.  I asked if it would be okay if I recorded on my cell phone the babies heart beats.  Of course, was the answer with a smile. 

That day, as I did every single day, I sang to my babies on the way to the appt.  Each day I sang and talked to my babies in the morning on the way to work, and at the end of the day, on the way home.  You see, I loved them more than any words could say, they were a part of me, part of my soul and my dreams.

I was deeply attached to the little beans, and I would have died for them if need be. 
I had three children in my body, and I would do whatever it would take to protect them for the rest of their lives.  Little did I know how short their lives would be!

Finally, they they did an ultrasound on my stomach.  The girl was confused as to why she wasn't getting the information she needed.  She said go and pee, we will do a vaginal ultrasound instead.  I went to pee, still in my glory, awaiting the joy of seeing my babies on that giant screen TV, still amazingly happy and excited. 

I came back and she did the vaginal ultrasound, and that's when I knew that my life would never ever be the same again.  I saw my three babies.  Each floating dead in their individual sacks.  There was no noise, no heartbeats, no life.  My dream was over, my babies were DEAD. 

I was all alone, since a good friend of mine that was supposed to be by my side backed out of the appointment at the last minute due to work. 

I was all alone, my babies were dead, and I had to drive myself home in hysterics.

I made it home that day, to my husband's surprise, and my own.  We rushed down to the immunological specialist.  He wanted to be sure that there was no mistake, and there wasn't, again, dead babies!!!!!!!!

Just a few days after I was weaned off of the medication to suppress my immune system, three strong healthy heartbeats had ceased.  I didn't know that a few days earlier when I had a fever and I broke out in a rash on my arm, that all hell had broken loose.  I did not know that not one baby would survive the fury of my immune system that treated my babies like cancer, and eliminated them, PERMANENTLY!!!!!

These days are filled with Vicoden, Vodka, tears, and anger.  These days are filled will emptiness, loneliness, and the longing for my babies.

This past year I have realized who my TRUE friends are, and how most of my family are cowards, and weak, and pathetic.

This thanksgiving, I am thankful for the very few that have kept me alive, that have given me support and comfort, and made me strong enough to get through each day, as difficult as each day has been.

The truth is that if it wasn't for my mother, and not wanting to hurt her, I would have killed myself last December, because to be honest, life is pretty much a waste.

So here I am, almost a year later.  Still alive, still suffering, still wondering why any fool would believe in God? 

I hate the holidays, all they are is a reminder of what I have lost, and what I will never have.

To the friends who have stood by me, I will forever treasure you.

To the friends and family who have turned their backs on me, I will be sure to repay the favor.

I used to be the one to turn to for any crisis, for any support, for anything at all.
Those people in my life who have deserted me, I no longer have your back.

This is a bitter, angry post today.

How could anyone except anything better?

Friday, October 14, 2011

The horrible anniversary dates are coming! And so is halloween, boo :(

It's the middle of October and about the time that I started IVF #10 last year, the one that got me pregnant.  It had been about 5 months since the last BFN IVF, and I had spent the summer enjoying myself as much as possible.  It was a good summer!  Until I lost 2 very dear people to me in one week in the month of August.  One of the losses was one of my biggest supporters.  She dreamed of me having a baby she would someday hold.  She herself was battling cancer, yet worried out me and my dream.  She was a 2nd mom.  Losing this incredible woman absolutely broke my heart.

During the month of October as I was cycling/injecting etc., I lost a favorite aunt.  This was about a week before my egg retrieval.  In the span of 3 months I lost 3 people that I loved dearly. 

I knew this would be my last IVF, I was done putting myself through the anguish and torture, always for nothing.  And then, who knows what will be the outcome of using these hormones, so many times, for 3 years, besides gaining weight?  The fear of cancer always loomed in the background, but I ignored it, because it would have been worth anything, to have my dream, a baby.

The night before my blood test to check my beta, I put away all of the medications, knowing that I would no longer need them.  I was done.  It was over!  I expected another BFN, and then it would be time to move on to my new childless life.  Somehow, I had begun to start accepting that this would be the case, and I planned on starting to try and adjust, and accept my future. 

I planned on doing as much as I could.  I would travel, party, excercise, and enjoy my life to the fullest as someone who didn't have loads of responsibility (parenting) could do.  I'd show the world how much fun I could have!

That was the plan.  I would survive.  I had no choice, this is how my life would be, and it really sucked, but I was going to try and make the best of a horrible situation.

I had the transfer of my 3 little embryos the last week of October.

I have hated Halloween for the past few years now, you know, the years of anguishing infertility treatments.  I just can't stand seeing all of the cute little kids all dressed up to collect their candy.
I try to be away, or make sure I'm not home each year. 

It's really a shame because I used to enjoy giving out candy at my front door, and seeing all of the cute costumes.  Infertility prevents you from enjoying lots of things, and the holidays are definitely a major issue.

Infertility robs you of your self and your soul.  Especially if you are one of the women that is "left behind", that never has success.  I used to have a support system of a lot of other infertile women, that suffered right along with me.  Most of them have since moved on.  No one wants to be around the failure.  Not when they are actually living their dream.  Each one of them has had success.  Who needs a buzz kill or a reminder?  Their lives have progressed, and mine has not.  Little by little they have drifted away from me.  Quite convenient, isn't it? 

I was always truly happy for each and every one of them when they finally did conceive.  I supported them as much as possible, more than most people would, especially in my situation.  That support was hardly ever recipricated.  It's amazing how absolutely selfish human beings really are.

I cannot tell you how many of them I have helped achieve their dream.  Lucky them.  I have learned a lot during this journey through hell.  I will save this rant for another post.

Back to the story:

The first week of November, on the anniversary of my father's death, I went in for what I thought was the last blood test.  I will never forget that day.  I was running late to work and stressing.

I gave very direct instructions to my doctor that day.  DO NOT CALL ME before 4pm.  I will be at work.  I cannot receive the dreaded news while I am at work.  I don't want to fall apart at work.  Notify me after I leave please, after 4pm.

I remember having some hot flashes that day, I figured because this was really the end.  It was over and it was time for me to give in to defeat.  I didn't take a home pregnancy test this cycle because I didn't want to upset myself any sooner than I had to.  Reality day had finally come and I was ready to hear the bad news, for the 10th time, not including all of the IUI negatives.

Then it happened, an email on my blackberry from the Dr.  Why was he emailing me during work hours?
I opened it.  I read it.  I almost passed out, literally.  It said, "Brace yourself, ok, you are pregnant!"
I told my co-worker I had to step out.  I ran into the staircase and cried hysterically, tears of joy for the first time.  I was shaking.  I really thought I would faint.  I called the doctor.  He was cautiously optimistic and told me that I would get another blood test in a couple of days to check the numbers.  He told me that at my age, the end of my 44th year, the chances of miscarrage were at about 50 percent.  If we could get past the heartbeat stage, hopefully the pregnancy would last.

All I could think about was that I was really pregnant, for the first time in my life.  When I had decided to give up.  I must have been dreaming.  I walked back to my office after speaking with my friend's daughter, (the one who had passed away, my 2nd mom) and told her the news.  We both screamed!  It had been exactly 10 weeks since she had passed away, and the anniversary of my dad's death.  This was big.  There was significance I was sure. 

I think that day in the first week of November was clearly the best day of my entire life, but it wouldn't last for long.

I went back to the office, hiding my very big secret, it was not to be shared, not yet.

I have to stop now because I'm starting to get really upset. 

I promise to continue the story with another post very soon.  Maybe even tonight, after a few drinks.