Step Away from the Vagina!

I'm not sure what has been more annoying about my six miscarriages: the physical pain, the heartbreak, the feeling of being the only person without children or the amount of medical professionals in the New York City area that have spent a considerable amount of time with my vagina. At this rate, counting all the OBGYN's, specialists, nursing staff and the 30 odd people who decide to hang around the operating room for my D and C's, I'm easily at about 75 people. I had an ultrasound the other day, when the (new) doctor came in with THREE nurses. It was the place to be! Everyone crowding around, arms folded, chit chatting about this and that. We were a few passed hors d'oeuvres and martinis short of a cocktail party.
What about all of you? What are your "secondary annoyances"? Is it the "doctor shopping", hoping to find the one person that can crack your case? Is it the endless hours of sitting in a paper gown waiting....and waiting? Or is it hearing this: "Please bring all your medical records prior to your appointment"? OK, I take back everything I just said, THAT is the most annoying thing.

- Jennifer

Dispatch from the Waiting Room

Sitting in my gynecologist's office waiting for my yearly exam, I am surrounded by couples who are breathlessly anticipating their visit with their unborn child via sonogram. Women with big bellies in various stages of pregnancy sit, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, lulled by the baby they hold within. For every Cosmo magazine or Bon Appétit there are at least three or four new mother publications featuring big fat babies on the cover. Memories come flooding back of all my years spent undergoing fertility treatments and following high-risk pregnancies, swinging from sonogram to sonogram until there was no heartbeat.  I immediately recognize that I have got to get out of here as soon as possible. I fight with the nurse about being weighed, "No, I really weigh myself every day so there is no need". Because let's be honest, weight is not my issue. I am now forced to consult with my doctor on a regular basis to discuss how vigilant I need to be given all my years undergoing fertility treatments. The beating my ovaries took due to all the hyper stimulation drugs, over the course of years, can cause ovarian cancer which is virtually symptomless until stage four.  This is my new reality, finding ways to ensure I don't get the dreaded disease which is the frightening side effect of the "disease" of infertility. As I explained to my husband, back then the science wasn't what it is today, no one knew what our desperate years could bring. A new reality indeed.

- Kira

Oh No He Didn't!

Have all of you read this article on Slate.com about taxing the childless? I read it this morning, after Brian Lehrer on WNYC mentioned he would be speaking with the author. To say I was shocked and horrified is an understatement. Please explain to me why those without children should be penalized?  It's bad enough that society makes us feel "less than" because we don't have children, but now the author thinks the tax code should be against us too?
I would love to hear all your thoughts on this article. Do you think this is a fair proposal?

- Jennifer

Inspiration

Just a little inspiration from the two of us to all of you.
xx
Jennifer and Kira

                                                Found on a-slice-of-awesome.tumblr.com

Landmines

In keeping with our weekly "Landmines" feature I thought I would lighten the mood after yesterday's post. Below is a pretty excruciating (and kind of hilarious) exchange I had with a doctor a few years ago. You just can't make this stuff up!

Scene: The maternal fetal health department of a certain well known NYC hospital.  My OB sent me to have a 3D ultrasound due to a scare I had that week.

Me: (Lying on the table, freaking out but trying to be calm and NOT looking at the ultrasound monitor).

"Doctor": Hmmmmmmm well, there's no heartbeat. What a bummer.

Me: I'm sorry what?

"Doctor": Yup, no heartbeat. Man that is such a bummer. 

Me: (Trying to not cry, throw up or wring her neck- not necessarily in that order) Are you kidding me?

"Doctor": Wish I was. But you have kids already right?

Me: Ummmm no.

"Doctor": Oh man. How old are you? 33? You don't have ANY kids? Oh that is terrible. You are going to need to get this taken care of immediately by the way. It really is such a bummer (she makes a sad face).

Me: Uhhh yeah you could say that.

SO, that happened. But guess what also happened later that same day? After replaying the interaction over and over in my head, I had this overwhelming urge that I MUST help women in my situation. This doctor made it clear that women who suffer from pregnancy loss are sadly misunderstood and often overlooked, sometimes even by their own health care providers. Looking back I am actually grateful for that exchange; without it I don't know if this blog would exist. Talk about "finding the gold" huh?

- Jennifer

Starting Over

Recently, I was sitting in my doctor's office with my husband as we hashed out the protocol for my next pregnancy.  Then, I had a minor internal breakdown. There came a point in the conversation when the doctor asked when we were thinking of starting again, and I sort of went catatonic. My husband was looking at me, and for a moment I really thought I lost the ability to move my mouth. Both of us have done the soul searching and I have meditated on whether I can really try this again. In the past I disregarded how I was REALLY feeling because all I wanted to do was erase the previous loss from my mind as quickly as possible.  This, despite what my gut was telling me. So I spent the last few months really analyzing how I was feeling. Can my body and mind maneuver around all the anxieties, medications, and doctor appointments involved in a high risk pregnancy? The answer was yes. I was certain. I think. I knew eventually the lofty plans we made with our doctor would have to be implemented; but all of a sudden, shit just got real. I silently freaked out. The abstract idea of starting over was exactly that, abstract. Logically I knew we would eventually have to put all this into action, but I deluded myself into thinking that all this was such a long way off. I don't know why I was thinking this, at 35 I'm not exactly getting any younger. I left my doctor's office and decided to walk home, so I could do some serious thinking. I was asking myself, “Can I really do this again?” Making the decision to start over is so tough, because you already know the variables. You literally experienced some of the worst case scenarios. Yet, you and your partner are willing to muster the little bit of courage you have left because there is still the slightest bit of hope lingering.  But how do you muster the energy to get back on the roller coaster? And can you go into this less than 100% ready? Would 98% be sufficient? All I know from my experience is that I don’t want to live a life where regret and “what if’s” are in my mind. If my husband and I were to decide enough is enough I know in my gut I will always wonder.  So, at some point in the near future we are going to strap ourselves in again and hope that this roller coaster ride we have been on for four years will finally have a great ending.

- Jennifer

You're Pregnant? Great! See You in 20 Years

I was talking with an old friend of mine on the phone the other day when she asked if I had seen/spoken to a mutual friend who just announced her pregnancy. I said that I will catch up with said friend when her kid is in high school. She laughed, I laughed, but secretly I was thinking, "Wait, why CAN'T I wait 14 years?"
After any trauma there is a certain amount of what I will call "down time" that I think is completely acceptable. And that definitely goes for after a miscarriage. In my opinion, you can do whatever you want, eat whatever you want and say whatever you want. You can avoid any and all social gatherings without feeling a pang of guilt. But at a certain point you eventually have to come around, whether you like it or not. I am sort of in that stage right now. It's been four months since my last pregnancy loss and I am still kind of acting like it just happened. I am living in a land of woe is me with a passport and one-way ticket to bitterness. Which brings me back to my point; I am eventually going to have to interact with humanity, specifically those who are pregnant. I don't look forward to them patting their bulging stomachs while hearing all about their hemorrhoids, swollen feet and insomnia. Side note: Who knew that I would actually be sort of jealous of someone having hemorrhoids? But I do know that if I don't come back to the land of the living (and pregnant) soon I may not have any friends to come back to.

- Jennifer