I want to get off this awful roller-coaster

At the start of last week i discovered that pregnancy #4 was pretty much a non-starter and doomed to failure. Thankfully (yes i am actually thankful for this small mercy) my period came pretty quickly and although it wasn’t a pleasant experience it only lasted a few days and I’m now, at least physically, pretty much back to normal.

Unfortunately, my mind and soul are not so quickly healed. I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself. I find myself googling topics like “how to tell your boss you can’t cope” and “when will I feel normal again”. I feel like I should be doing something to try to fix myself but I have no idea what to do so I’m basically going through the motions of each day, going to work, and hoping that soon I’ll feel less lost and out of control and in the meantime I’m hoping I won’t totally screw up my career or relationships. Last week I had a little bit of a melt down at work when I felt like my boss was attacking me for an option I had on a mutual project and I ended up crying. In justification I was in full on hormone drop mode (I hate that I have to go through the ‘baby blues’ just to get my hCG back to normal levels) and within 20 mins of being in the office two co-workers had announced their pregnancies with much cooing and excitement in the office! I wish that I could just tell everyone in the office so they wouldn’t think I was the strange girl who cries in the toilets and won’t look at pregnancy scan pictures.

In trying to get through last week without breaking down on everyone I know, I’ve been reading stories of others who’ve been through similar recurrently losses. An article in the Independent from 2009 really resonated so I wanted to share some excerpts. It’s written by Kate Evans and is titled “Miscarriage: The Loneliest Grief of all”. I’m writing on my phone so I can’t add a link but the article is definitely worth reading.

On wanting to believe each new pregnancy will work: It surprises me how surprised I am. This is the sixth baby we will have lost; you would think that I would be used to it by now. But maybe it’s not surprising that I had to believe in this baby, as though by investing in it some hope, and some love, I could will it into being.

On the depression felt after a miscarriage: I have never known depression like the cloud that descends every time I lose a baby. I can compare it with the death of a close friend and I can honestly say that it’s worse. When a friend of mine died suddenly, we viewed the body, we buried him and we were able to say goodbye. I had the company of others who were as grief-stricken as I was. With a miscarriage, I’m left battling through the layers of euphemism to even recognise that I have been bereaved. What is this that has happened? “Pregnancy loss”? The word “baby” was never mentioned by the staff in the Early Pregnancy Advisory Unit. When the scan revealed that my baby was no longer viable, I was referred for an operation with the horrendous name of “Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception”. My child, described as clinical waste.

On the loneliness of suffering miscarriage: When a friend dies, you can seek solace in the company of other mourners. Miscarriage, by contrast is an entirely private grief. “How are you?” a friend will ask, in a conversational tone, and I wonder, do they really want to know the blackness of my mood?

On how difficult recurrent miscarriage can be (Having just suffered my 4th miscarriage I found this bit particularly powerful): Every time it happens, I find it harder to struggle through, and yet I fear that, for my friends, this drama has become repetitive and boring. With each miscarriage I need help more, yet I feel I can ask for it less.

Pregnancy #4 = Chemical

So (on our wedding anniversary of all days) 6 days after discovering this pregnancy, it’s over. This morning’s POAS was virtually negative. Now I just need to wait for my period to arrive and then I guess we start trying for pregnancy #5. I’m not sure how many times I can do this.

Update – Just to make this even more fitting – this is my 100 post!

Darker? Yes. Dark? Definitely not

So I tested again. Today is 12 or 13 DPO I’m not entirely sure as my OPK gave me a pretty dark line and so I took that as O and didn’t do one the next day (when it definitely could have been darker).

As you can see the bottom line (taken 24 hours after the top) is a tiny bit darker but they are still super faint. I had hoped for a more definite yes. An actual big fat positive rather than a small, lightly coloured, possibly, but I’m going to try to feel positive. I definitely have my usual symptoms (nausea, excess saliva and buzzy feeling down there) which I’m taking as a good sign. I just so want this to work out. If it fails (even really early as a chemical pregnancy) I’ll still need to get referred back to the molar pregnancy centre to check that the hormones haven’t awoken the molar beast and that would delay being able to try again.

Tomorrow the boy and I are off for a weekend spa break (swimming only for me) to celebrate our second wedding anniversary so I’m going to try not to obsessively fret all weekend.

I’ve never been a particularly religious or spiritual person but the boy’s nan (a really lovely women who was very excited about our first pregnancy (we didn’t tell about the others)) passed away this week shortly before I got the BFP and over the last few days I’ve been wearing her necklace and silently asking her for some help this time. I’m skeptical but we need all the help we can get and I know she’d help us if she can.

So today I’m going to try to be positive. I’ll test again after the weekend (or maybe tomorrow as I am developing a POAS habit). I can’t believe how much of my life is spent peeing on plastics sticks (FRER or OPK) and obsessing over the darkness of the line.

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Signs of a chemical pregnancy

Yesterday I started experiencing my telltale pregnancy symptoms of nausea and excess saliva so this morning I took a first response pregnancy test and it was super faint (you can hardly see it). I haven’t even told the boy yet as he’s a bit sad having lost his grandmother yesterday and I really want to have a more definite result before I get his hopes up. My question is at 11DPO is a super faint test normal or is it likely to be the sign of a chemical pregnancy and AF will most likely arrive soon? I really want to be fourth time lucky but it just feels so out of reach.

Feeling super proud of my body

It might not be very good at maintaining a pregnancy but today I’m feeling very proud of my body and sorry for all the times I have cursed it for being too chunky or pasty-white. Today it carried me around my first ever triathlon and finished it in under 2 hours! The bike course was very hilly but despite being my worst of the three disciplines, I was still able to catch and overtake people on the climbs and still had strength in my legs for the run.

I had wanted to take part in a triathlon with my husband last week but when the entries opened at the end of last year I was pregnant and by the time the miscarriage happened the event was full. Thankfully I was able to get a last minute place for today’s event and having been helping the boy with his training I wasn’t too out of shape so it only took a few more runs and a long cycle last weekend to prepare.

With regard to TTC, there isn’t much to report. We’re currently mid-cycle. I ovulated on Saturday and we’ve been following the ‘sperm meets egg plan’ so I have been feeling less stressed about trying to work out how often we should be having sex. I was a little worried that today’s exercise could affect the outcome of this cycle but I feel like I can’t keep putting my life on hold and avoiding everything I want to do. Whether this cycle is successful or not, today was a good day and I have a new found respect for my body. It might not look like a model and might not be a baby making machine but it is stronger than I had given it credit for.

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