The “D” Word

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When Eric and I first realized that our path to parenthood was going to be a struggle, I was embarrassed.  I’ve shared before that for the first few years, we didn’t tell anyone except for a few family members, that we were even trying to concieve.  When others asked about our plans for kids, we would force a smile and tell a small lie, saying “when it happens, it happens” or “we’re not in a huge rush for kids yet”, all the while dying inside.  It hurt so much keeping that secret and with every inquiry, I felt more alone and more like a failure.

Then we reached the point of fertility assistance and I couldn’t keep the lie going.  For several reasons, we decided to put it out there to all of our family, friends, co-workers and anyone else who cared to ask.  The first few times admitting our shortcoming out loud, was tough.  Even though we had no control over our situation, I still felt shame associated with our infertility and by keeping that secret in the dark for so long, my shame about it had grown more and more.

But as we shared our situation, it got more comfortable to talk about.  No one shunned us for being infertile, no one laughed in our faces for not being able to “get the job done”.  Nobody judged us or thought less of us.  Instead, we received support, prayers, hugs, numerous “I-had-no-idea”‘s, and so many more positive things.  By shedding light on our burden, I was able to breathe again, the weight of it felt lifted off our shoulders, and it was one less distraction as we went through IVF.  I wished I had been strong enough not to carry that secret and sought support sooner!

I lead with this backstory, because I’m about to open up again about a very real struggle I’m currently facing.  It’s a struggle that I again have no control over and that anyone who knows what our last couple months have looked like, let alone our last 1 1/2 years, would likely expect to be there.  But even knowing all of that, I’ve still kept this in the dark, not wanting to say it out loud, letting this “secret” grow and cloud my mind and invade every happy space I have.

Last night this struggle finally came to head and I knew I had to say it out loud to Eric or it would consume all of me.  Being healthy mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically for my husband, son and self is more important to me than my pride.  It had to come out.

When I finally spoke the word out loud, the ugly “D” word, and shed light to it, I again felt that sense of freedom, like I could breathe again, and that the grip it had over me, loosened.  It felt good to share that burden, to know I wasn’t in it alone anymore, and so I want to share it with you all as well and hope that I’ll receive the same kind of support I did when we admitted our struggle with infertility.  I don’t want this looming over my every thought, stealing away the joy in front of me right now.  I want to feel like me again.

Since losing Isaiah, I’ve been battling depression and have been fighting it alone.  Some days I feel fine, and others are really low.  I struggle to find the positive things in life right now.  It’s really hard to admit, but I have honestly had the thought that not being here anymore would just be easier.  I wouldn’t have to face this loss and grief anymore, my stress at work would be gone, and I would get to be with my Isaiah and hold him again.  Even though I have all kinds of supportive, loving and caring people around me {and I thank each of you deeply, because there really are sooooo many of you},  I’ve still felt low and in the dumps.  I have so badly wanted to be strong and face these hard times with a positive attitude, that I’ve put on a front, even to myself, that I’m better than I really am.

Now before you get too alarmed, no I have not had thoughts of harming myself and I still know the amazing things I do have in my life, but I’m just having a hard time enjoying them to their fullest right now.  I’m not at a place where I would want to throw away being Eric’s wife or Lincoln’s mom because life is too much.  I can still see the blessings in front of me but I’m not able to be the best blessing to them right now because of where my head and heart are at.

I want to shed light to this sickness inside of me right now, so that God can use it for His glory rather than the devil, and I want to feel happy and be positive again! I know that I am not the only one who has suffered in silence with depression, too afraid to open up about it.  I want to be stronger than the urge to hide myself away, and give myself the support I know I’ll receive by sharing.

I hope that if anyone else is reading this and finds themselves in a dark place, that you too would find a safe place and admit how your struggling.  Know that you don’t have to broadcast it on a blog to feel better—because honestly, admitting this on a blog is scary!  Just admitting it to yourself and to God can be a relief and the first step in the right direction.

Life is hard and every one of us struggles with something.  Your struggle may look different than mine, but finding support for the struggle makes all the difference.  God never intended for us to do life alone, and so if you are struggling right now, find that safe person and be willing to open yourself up.   I know it’s hard, I’m an introvert and would rather keep to myself at all times!!!  But God gave me the strength years ago to open up about a personal struggle, and He’s doing it again now.  He’ll do the same for you, you just have to take the first step.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Day Started Good!

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Today’s the day I’ve been looking forward to ever since our miscarriage.  Earlier this week I had labs done to confirm my HCG was finally low enough…..3.4 on Monday  {Which quite honestly, still seemed ridiculously high considering it’s been almost 2 months since the miscarriage}!!!!  But this meant I could move forward FINALLY in the next steps with IVF and get going on the baby making I’ve been longing for since Isaiah left us.

We also had Lincoln’s Kindergarten Screening this morning which was exciting but more emotional for me than I expected!  My little boy is growing up way too fast and as much as I love seeing him change and develop and learn, man I just wish sometimes I could swaddle him up and give him a bottle!!!  His screening went great, which we expected, he’s so smart and no part of him struggles to socialize or retain what he’s heard and learned {the good stuff and the not so good stuff!} and he’s going to thrive in school next year, I just know it!

After the screen, I brought him to class and headed for my doctors appointment. I again reassured Eric, he didn’t need to come with me for this appointment.  He like me, has been overwhelmingly busy at work and I completely understand and appreciate the need to be at the office during business hours. I almost ordered him to go to work and skip my appointment….I’d fill him in tonight!

I was scheduled for an HSI and a uterine biopsy.  Both of these procedures I’ve had before and went in anticipating that something would be found on the HSI, leading to needing to have to have surgery of some kind to remove a polyp or fibroid {I’ve had this 2 or 3 times before} and also expected the biopsy would be clear {always has been in the passed!}.

Right on cue, the PA had to call the doctor in to get a 2nd opinion on the ultrasound of the HSI that was being performed. She wasn’t 100% sure what she was looking at.  They were able to track my incredible RE down and she popped in to confirm there was definitely something there and a Hysteroscopy would be in my very near future.  She was in the middle of a transfer when they pulled her out, so just as quickly as she came in, she popped back out.

As the PA began pulling out the various items stuck up my lady parts and preparing to stick other utensils up there for the dreadful biopsy, I began to bleed…..and bleed…..and bleed.  I began to bleed profusely enough that my doctor was called back to the party before she could get back to the poor women strapped in the sterile table.  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for that women because I know how uncomfortable and likely agitated she was that someone else {that someone else being ME} was holding up her baby {or babies!} from being put back in their temporary housing!!!  She likely was cursing me out because her bladder was ready to burst and she was freezing on the stainless steel table.  I wanted to tell her ” I’m sorry, dear infertile friend, I do not know you personally, but I do know your physical uncomforableness and the painful emotional rollercoaster you’ve likely been on and I’m not helping it!!!  Please forgive me!!!!”

I began to feel a little light headed, nothing crazy, but continued to lay flat at the PA, nurses, and doctors direction.  I guess the situation was kind of serious!  The doctor told me I would need to be taken for an Emergency DNC because she was unable to get the bleeding to stop and was afraid there may be a small amount of placenta left over from the miscarriage that was dislodged during the procedure and was now causing some serious problems.

My reaction in that moment was almost laughable.  I didn’t for see this being what my day would consist of.  I was really looking forward to this day.  I was looking forward to kindergarten screening, the appointment with the fertility clinic to hopefully get a plan in place and some prospective dates set, and then I was off to an afternoon at the spa…a WHOLE AFTERNOON!!!!  Eric had so generously purchased a spa package for me…..something I’d NEVER do for myself, because he knew just how stressed I’ve been. I have a man that looks out for my well being more than I do and this was such a thoughtful gesture….but will need to be rescheduled.  I was headed to Spa Sanford instead.  The beds aren’t quite as comfy, but the drugs are probably better 🙂

I discovered that surgery intake goes a lot faster when it’s an emergency.  It felt like only minutes from when I was having the procedure and then was suddenly on the surgical floor and being brought back to the OR.  I exchanged pleasantries with the anestiologist….turns out I had worked a claim for his home in the country  in the last year so he looked familiar to me.  We chatted a bit and then he gave me the sleepy medicine and I drifted off.

Surgery took longer than expected and the doctor found a larger piece of placenta then expected.  If I must try to look at the positive side of things, I will say, I’m glad it was discovered here and now because in reality, it could have come dislodged at any point, anywhere.  If it happened at home while I was sleeping or maybe at work when traveling 3 hours from home, there could have been some really serious and potentially fatal results from that.  God’s always looking out for me I guess!

I was originally told that I’d be released after surgery, but now I’m being kept overnight for observation.  I lost about 6 pints of blood, which is enough to make me feel light headed and uneasy.  I’m also having decent pain from it all and then of course there’s all the anxiety that I’m building up on myself from all of this.

I can’t help but admit that it’s getting hard to stay positive.  It’s getting harder for me to keep perspective and it’s getting harder to not feel more and more like a failure and question what the heck is God doing with this?!?!?!  My eyes are heavy and tired from the tears {and probably all the morphine and Percocet and other pleasantries they’ve allowed me!}  My tears are not from the physical pain {well, maybe the first few were after I woke up} but more so the emotional and mental pain.  Not gonna lie, it’s getting really old hitting a roadblock around each turn.  It’s starting to feel like the feat of becoming pregnant, might just break me and maybe I’m not strong enough.  I loose more and more confidence in myself as a mom—-after all, if God has made it this difficult for me to even achieve pregnancy and then to top it off, loose one for no apparent reason so easily, maybe He’s telling me I’m not cut out for this again.  That’s tough for me to swallow and maybe it’s extreme, but I can’t help my mind from going there.

My RE visited with Eric and I each after the procedure.  She’s not yet sure what this looks like now for us moving forward.  It certainly pushes us back at least 1 more cycle, possibly 2-3 more cycles.  There’s a good chance that by the time we’re finally on the road to baby again, I could have/should have been holding my Isaiah in my arms, listening to his cries and seeing his sweet smile.  I feel like I’ve lost so much more than just my precious Isaiah….I’ve lost time, I’ve lost countless hours of sleep, I’ve lost the obvious….a lot of blood! and I’m starting to lose hope.  I don’t want to go all Debbie-Downer here, but if I’m being honest with you guys…..this sucks.

I’m ending this the same way I end most posts nowadays….more prayers appreciated   I’m a little low in the “stay positive” vibes so if anyone has any extra laying around to share, send them my way.  This road to becoming mommy again is getting harder and darker right now.

 

Still Waiting

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Just an update to how things are going in our baby-making pursuit.

This last week I’ve finally began to test negative on with the HPT {Home Pregnancy Test}.  We are over a month out from our loss of Isaiah and I’ve tested nearly everyday.  Each morning, bitterly discovering the double line.  I never thought I’d be in a situation where I was disappointed seeing a double line 😦

But finally last Monday, the double line vanished and I was so excited to think we could move forward!  I contacted my doctor’s office right away and they scheduled me to come in for blood work to confirm the HCG {pregnancy hormone that causes the double line} was indeed low enough.

Based on all of our experience with IVF and the procedures I know I’ll need done before we can begin again, I also know I have a limited window of time from the start of my cycle to when I could have said procedures performed.  Between days 3- 10 I am needing to have a saline ultrasound to again ensure no polyps have sprouted and also an endometrial biopsy.  I’ve had each of these a few different times and both are just has uncomfortable as they sound.

Again, both procedures are time sensitive and I’ve also now discovered, hormonally sensitive.  My HCG has to be at a 5 or lower and I also have to be within the 3-10 day window of my cycle.

Having never been through a miscarriage, one thing I did not realize is how long the HCG stays in one’s system.  I would have assumed my body would figure out quite quickly there was no baby to nurture and would level out within a week or so.  Well, just like the weight gain does not fall right off, nor do the hormones in the body.

Last Monday, my blood came back at a 17.2 for HCG.  I was obviously disappointed because this meant I was not low enough.  I went back in on Wednesday for a follow up draw and was at 13.4….still too high.  This morning I went back in and was sorely discouraged to find that I’m still at a 12 😦

Unfortunately, this ultimately means we will have to wait at least 1 more cycle before we can begin again.  The slightly elevated HCG would cause for any results from tests/procedures done, to be skewed.  7 measly points means another 2 1/2 – 3 weeks of waiting because there isn’t enough time for it to drop and me still be in that 3-10 cycle day window.

Now you may be thinking “it’s only another 2 1/2-3 weeks, that’s not so bad” and really, you’d be right in your thinking.  However for us, the wait is agony and every day that goes by is another day further behind in our timeline of bringing home a baby.  Yes, we know, God doesn’t work in our time, and we accept and understand that, but it doesn’t make the hurt go away or the waiting any easier.

So for now, not much as changed.  I’ve started birth control to start regulating things out in my body….another necessary step in the process. I haven’t yet received the results back on the genetic testing performed on me, but I’m curious to see what they will reveal.  Please pray that l have boring results and that there will not be another roadblock or hurdle placed in front of us in this journey!!!

What Should Have Been

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They say time heals all wounds, but how much time does it take to start to feel some relief?

Lately my mind has been clouded with the thoughts of the should-have-been’s.  Last week Friday I was scheduled for my 20 week ultra sound and should have been only just discovering that our beautiful baby inside of me was a boy.  This weekend I should have been excitedly prepping our nursery for our bundle of joy, but instead I buried myself in my work.  Each morning and night I’m reminded that there should have been a growing baby bump, but instead there is just the left over weight gain from all the shots, medications, patches and pregnancy weight gain.  I should have been writing a happy blog, sharing ultra sound photos and updates on our boy, but instead I’m writing this.

Time has not yet healed this wound, but it’s slowly scabbing over.  My days go quickly but the memory of Isaiah is never far from my mind, and when my world slows down, the pain creeps in again.  I know it’s good for me to feel this pain, that I must in order to properly grieve and move forward.  Honestly sometimes I cling to it, I feel closest to Isaiah when my heart is heavy with this grief.

Even though sometimes it feels impossible, Eric and I are still looking to the future.  We met with our Reproductive Endocrinologist again about a week and half ago.  She took lots of time with us, reviewed pathology and genetic results, and talked over our options moving forward.  She was kind, compassionate, and honest with us that she unfortunately had no answers.  She was as dumbfounded and shocked as us as to what has happened and tried her best to offer encouragement.

We reviewed that pathology found nothing wrong with Isaiah’s cord.  There was no kink, there was no break.  After discovering that there was nothing with the genetics, I had hoped and prayed we would find the issue lied with the cord, that this would provide us an answer and some type of peace.  Instead, we have to accept that we will never know the reason for our Isaiah’s passing.  Ultimately, the reasoning doesn’t matter, not really.  What hurts more than not knowing the “why” is accepting that he’ll never be in our arms, he’ll never play with his brother, he’ll never hug us goodnight.  Instead we must constantly remind ourselves that he is in a better place and that God has reasoning in this  that is bigger than we can see right now.

Eric and I would covet your continued prayers as we walk through this.  We continue to try to keep our eyes forward and are praying that God will grant us another miracle baby in our near future.  Lincoln seems to be doing well, he will randomly mention Isaiah or ask a question about his brother, but his attitude and demeanor seems more like the Lincoln from before.  We all continue to adjust and are still so grateful to all of you.

“I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and He turned to me and heard my cry.  He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire.  He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” – Psalms 40:1-2

 

 

No New Answers

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Yesterday was a hard day for me.  It’s been only a week and half since Isaiah was born into this world and we said our hellos & goodbyes, but somehow it feels longer.  I feel like I’ve been mourning this for months, that I couldn’t possibly have more tears to give, but then yesterday happened and my healing scab was ripped back open.

Yesterday I heard his name.  Another mother was calling it out, to her beautiful son, Isaiah, at the after school pick up.  It sounded so foreign to me but immediately caught me off guard.  I had to choke back tears as I remembered my Isaiah.  I watched as he ran to his mom, hugging her tightly with excitement and then holding her hand as they crossed the street together.  I wasn’t expecting to hear his name at school.  Sure, I’ve heard it plenty on the radio to a Bible verse or read it in scriptures, but hearing it roll off the tongue of another mother referring to her son, that was different and it was hard.

Lincoln burst out the doors shortly after and I put what had just happened in the back of my mind so I could focus on what I had in front of me.  As much as I didn’t want to think about it, it affected me all night long.  When Eric got home from work, he could tell I was off and before he could really even dig into what was going on in my mind, I was telling him about how I heard our boy’s name.  Before I could finish, before I could even say his name, I was crying.  I hadn’t cried for at least 24 hours and as much as it pained me to feel that devastation again and open it back up, it felt good to cry.

The last few days I feel like my grief has developed into more.  The obvious loss of Isaiah is always there, but has also grown to include the idea that we may not become new parents again.  We may never be able to achieve another pregnancy, our 5 frozen embryos may not be viable babies, our insurance money may run out before we ever achieve the end goal.  What if this was the last time I would carry another life?

You may think I’m getting ahead of myself in all this thinking, but unfortunately these are very real concerns for us already.  Eric and I both knew before we even left the hospital that we would continue on the road of IVF once my body was physically able to.  That could be a month from now, or maybe a few more, but we know we want to try again as soon as we can.  Unfortunately, age is more than just a number when it comes to the infertility game.  Sure, many women into their 40’s are having babies, but when we have the odds stacked up against us already, we don’t want to chance anything and know that the younger I am, the better.

Today we met with the genetic counselor to discuss our remaining embryos. Luckily, the results from Isaiah’s genetic testing had come in this morning so we were also able to discuss that.  I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but I hoped to get some kind of answer as to why he didn’t survive.  Unfortunately, the results gave us no answers.  Isaiah was chromosomally, completely normal.  The results for the labs completed on me also came in earlier this week and everything on my end checked out just fine.  My heart sank a little hearing all of this.  Even though really this is all good news, it leaves us in the same place we were on the 10th when we first discovered Isaiah no longer had a heartbeat.

Now, it could still be that there was a cord issue.  The genetic counselor could not speak on the results from pathology and advised we would need to wait to speak with our doctor about those results.  It could also be there was a heart issue or something else with another organ.  Those types of tests were not done, we did not have an autopsy performed on Isaiah.  All we do know is that his genetic make up down to the chromosomes, appeared normal and based on this, one would have assumed I would carry a healthy pregnancy to full term.

We went into this appointment assuming we would be sending off the remaining embryos for biopsy and genetic testing, but now we are feeling maybe that isn’t necessary or the best option?  The additional cost is a big enough speed bump for us and we also discovered that the additional freeze/thaw cycle that the embryos would have to go under, is not exactly ideal.  Not to say it isn’t possible that they survive it, but it is would certainly create additional stress and could cause what could be otherwise completely normal embryos, to not be viable when the time to transfer comes.  Essentially, to perform the genetic testing, the now frozen embryos we need to be thawed, biopsied, frozen again, and then thawed 1 more time when transfer time came.  Normally, the biopsy is performed before the embryos are ever frozen so they don’t have to go through an additional freeze/thaw cycle.  I know this is probably a lot to understand for anyone who hasn’t been through the IVF process, because it’s a lot for us to understand and comprehend, but we find ourself now faced with this big decision with not much information to go off of!

Next week Friday we will meet our reproductive doctor again.  We’ll then be able to ask more questions regarding the genetic testing process, any other pathology results from Isaiah, and review the next steps.

Next week I also plan to get back to work.  This will likely be tough, but also a good thing for me.  Please continue to pray for us as we transition back into “real life” on this side of tragedy.

We continue to feel that God has not left us alone in this time, that He is sending constant reminders of His presence through caring friends and family, a song on the radio, a verse we normally may have overlooked, and even through Lincoln.  We are blessed to be a part of a community that has surrounded us with love in our darkest time, lifting us up so we don’t have to bear this alone.

My prayer is that although I may never know the “why”, that Isaiah’s story and our grief, may touch someone else struggling in a similar situation and that they would find hope in their desperation.  I truly believe we are not meant to do life alone or carry our burdens in silence.  Our Heavenly Father sent his Son to this Earth and He died on a cross a horrible death.  He knows our pain and He grieves with us.  He wants to carry that load if we only give it over to Him and find peace and rest in His love.  That is exactly what we will continue to do, even when it’s the hardest thing imaginable.

Isaiah Michael

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****Please be aware, I am sharing some very personal and to us, beautiful, photos of our precious son, Isaiah, in this blog.  We realize that these photos may be disturbing to some and so please do not scroll all the way through if you feel this may affect you.  Thank you for taking the time to care about our Isaiah and hear his story.

Isaiah Michael Reuer came into this world much too soon.  He weighed in at just 2.8 ounces and measured at 6.5 inches long!  He was already a tall little boy, similar to his big brother!  We enjoyed several hours with Isaiah’s body, had a photographer capture his perfect features, and he was snuggled by mom, dad, an auntie and grandma.  We shed tears, gave him smiles, and assured him he was perfect to us and we would always love him.

I am continually comforted by the life verse we chose for our baby boy, Isaiah 43:2.  This verse was shared with us on Wednesday morning by my aunt and was surely God using her to speak directly to us.

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When I read this verse that morning, I knew that if our baby was a boy, his name would be Isaiah.  We had rushed to pick a name for our potential son, the evening before.  We were anticipating a girl. My pregnancy had been so different from the last and if I’m honest, we hoped for a little girl.  We have had a daughter’s name picked out for several weeks and had not really given much thought to anything else.  We went back to the list of names we had picked out several years prior, the list that we had ready incase Lincoln had a twin brother in there, and agreed to one of those “back up” names. {We had Lincoln’s name picked out years before we were blessed with Lincoln!} The name was not necessarily special, it held no significant purpose or place in our hearts.  But on Wednesday morning, when we needed some comfort and peace, God spoke to us using my aunt and through Isaiah 43 and provided that to us.

We envision our dear boy, laughing, running, and playing in Heaven.  My very first image of him was being greeted by my grandma, holding hands between her and my grandpa, and my sister Michelle loudly announcing to anyone and everyone who would listen, that her nephew Isaiah was there!  I know that he is surrounded in warmth, love and all things happy right now.  I know that Jesus is holding him while I can’t.  I know that one glorious day, we will be reunited and I can finally kiss him, hug him, and be with him for eternity.  I know that this pain I feel now, is only temporary, and that God will use it for His glory.

While we wait for that reunion, we are holding each other.  We are finding praises for God and begging for comfort.  We are so fortunate for our Lincoln and realize even more, how miraculous his life is and we know, God has such a big plan for him!  We are also thanking God for all of you, for your support and your prayers.  We know with all certainty, that we are getting through these days because of your prayers, because of your kind words and messages, because of your love for us and our family of 4.  We are hurting, but we will adjust to our new “normal” and though time may not completely heal this wound, it will help.

Lincoln is processing as well.  Yesterday we received a gift from a friend, the children’s version of Heaven is For Real.  We read this and looked at the beautiful pictures.  It brought some questions up for Lincoln, but he is fairly quick to move on.  I don’t think it’s out of avoidance, I think it’s purely because he’s 5 years old!  This morning he expressed a small amount of anger over the situation, asking why God “stole Isaiah”?  He was upset that God would “steal” him from us and he wanted to see Isaiah here, in our home.  He doesn’t quite understand how he could still be a big brother without a baby to show off.  Please keep him in your prayers. He was so excited to be a big brother finally and often would share with people that his mom was pregnant!  He’s already asked if we can try again, for another baby.

As I look forward into this next week, I’m not yet sure what it looks like for me.  Physically I’m still healing.  I have all the soreness you would expect after a delivery, just on a much smaller scale.  Today my milk came in {TMI for any of you guys, sorry!} which feels like such a cruel joke.  It is a reminder though, of how incredible God has created our bodies and that mine is responding like it should.  I guess that’s a good sign, but it still hurts!

Eric and I both have to face getting back into the routine of work and home life, without a growing baby belly.    We have swimming lessons, work schedules, school activities, and bills to pay.  Life moves on and so must we.

Isaiah Michael, you will never be forgotten and you are always in our hearts.  I feel blessed to have carried you for 16 weeks and we are fortunate to have held you in our arms for the few hours that we had.  You are loved and your short life is not insignificant, but rather holds a much bigger and beautiful purpose.  I’m honored to be your mommy always.

 

The worst day of my life

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I was finally able to sleep a combined total of 2 1/2 hours Wednesday morning.  It wasn’t great sleep, I was restless, and the first time I woke up I had to remember why my eyes were so puffy and my head was throbbing…because I had been bawling all night the night before. Because my baby had no heartbeat.  Because in a few hours I would be going in to deliver his lifeless body.

I got up around 6, began to pack my bag, get dressed in comfy clothes, and put on makeup I knew would smear off later.  Eric also got up and we cried together a little.  I checked all the kind comments that came in on Facebook and emails.  A few new texts to read and respond to.  I went to the bathroom and discovered a small amount of blood.  The tears flowed slowly and I thought, my body is confirming what is going to be happening today.

My parents came a little before 8.  We talked together, they offered support and listening ears mostly, and before they left my dad prayed over us.  It’s so amazing having a family that believes together and prays together not just in the good and easy times, but in the really hard, dark, angry times.  That’s what holds us together.

We said our goodbyes to Lincoln, he was off to play hooky from preschool for a couple of days and instead give farming a try with Grandpa.  It was a no brainer when we asked what he’d rather do, school or the farm!  That boy loves his grandparents and the farm!!!  We acknowledged to him that we’d be going to the hospital and that baby would be taken out of me.  I don’t recall him asking too many questions, he was too excited to go!

We headed out a little before 8:30.  We were told to check in at the front information desk when we got there and someone from registration would take us up to labor and delivery.  We expected that there would be a note in our file, an asterisk next to our name, or something indicating why we were there so there would be no probing questions, no insenstive mentioning, just kind smiles and understanding nods.

I was holding myself together pretty well.  My eyes were swollen, yes, I showed of weariness and exhaustion, but I was able to carry myself upright and I saw that as a huge win.

I informed the older, sweet lady at the front information table that I was directed to check in there today, gave her my name and date of birth.  She sweetly asked, “Ok, for labor and delivery?”

“Yes”

“Ok, are you in active delivery?”

My first thought was, “really, do I look like I’m 9 months pregnant?”  But I didn’t say that, I couldn’t possibly say that.  Instead, I began to loose my control over the tears and they streamed down my face.  I shook my head and faintly whisper, “no”, shaking my head so I knew she wouldn’t need to ask again for lack of understanding all the devastating responses I was giving.

Eric took over and I covered my face.  I realized there was no indication behind our name, advising we needed gentle hands working with us.  That we would have to be strong until we could break apart in our private delivery room.

She asked a few more questions.  Eric was getting annoyed I could tell.  The receptionist did gentle her approach with us, she understood why we were there without us verbalizing it, and once checked in advised someone with the registrar would be down to take us to our room.

A few minutes later, a 20 something young man came to greet us and take us to our room.  English was not his first language and he too had not been given any memo that we were there on the worst day of our lives.  I had settled my tears by that time and when we heard my name, Eric grabbed our overnight bag.  He asked how we were, but again because English was not his first language, didn’t attempt to make much small talk other than to ask Eric if we were staying a few nights.  This was a relief because I didn’t want to make small talk.

When we arrived on the floor and there were thankfully no pregnant women in the hallways that I could see.  I could not hear anyone celebrating a newly arrived baby.  I could not hear anyone screaming in pain as they delivered their full term bundle of joy.  This was a gift.  But then I looked up at the walls and saw how they were lined with beautiful photos of newborns and infants.  My knees got weak and I again lost the ability to control my tears.  I stepped away from the nurses station and allowed Eric to sign whatever needed to be signed.  The registrar gentlemen did not need English to be his first language to figure out why we were there at this point.  He was very uncomfortable and very quickly told Eric and myself what to sign and then walked us back to the furthest corner of the floor to our private room.  He quickly gave me my ID bracelet to confirm it was me and wrapped in on my arm.  He was out the door quicker than he came in.  {We shared a laughed with the nurse about this later! 🙂 }

We met our nurses and I had a few more breakdown moments.  Emily, our main nurse, was so sweet, almost too sweet in my moments of anger, but was just exactly the person who needed to be there with us in that moment.  She was soft-spoken and kind and took so much time to explain what would happen and answered so many, what seemed like odd questions, that we had.  She told us about different services that were offered in this situation and different options we would have after baby was born.  There would never be any rush on us to decide anything or do anything.  Everything would go at our time and our choosing.

My OB came a little while later.  She too was perfect.  She was a new OB for me.  When we discovered we were pregnant and I graduated from my fertility clinic for OB care, I called my original OB and discovered she was not taking new delivery patients anymore and was working towards retirement.  I was so disappointed, she delivered Lincoln and I loved her.  Her nurse gave me my new OB as a recommendation and I had already heard good things about her, so we gave it a shot and luckily she had an opening for me.  Anyway, my 16 week check up was only my 2nd time ever meeting my OB and having to go through that with me, she was an absolute Godsend.

We discussed several options again and the whole process.  She did not anticipate that I would deliver until likely after midnight, maybe 3-4AM, so it was going to be a long day.  We reviewed how the medication they would give me vaginally would dilate my cervix slowly.  I would only need to get to a 6 due to the tiny size of my baby, but that it would still contract and feel like a regular labor and delivery.  It was going to hurt and I would be offered the IV pain meds and the epidural if I wanted this and that too would be my decision.  We discussed the genetic testing afterwards and that the genetic counselor would come in to discuss that with us in further detail.  We discussed after baby is born and what that looks like.  We discussed the following morning and that she would be back at that time, she would not be able to deliver me but she assured her very sweet partner would.  We took all the information, a deep breath, shed some tears, and waited for the next step.

Genetics came in shortly after and discussed all that that entails.  We discussed the testing, the timeline and the cost.  She and our doctor both confirmed to us that if we had tested our embryo during the IVF process and before we implanted this one, it would not have caught whatever happened to he or she now.  That the genetic testing they would do on baby would most likely discover a fluke thing, a cord issue or possibly a virus/disorder I was carrying and we did not see, and that had we tested our embryos, we would likely still be in this situation.  This did give me some peace.  We agreed to have the genetic testing performed after delivery to see if we could determine the “why”.

They were finally able to get my IV in a little after 11AM.  I have terrible veins after all of the procedures I have had done and am a tricky poke.  They had to poke a few times before calling the IV team in to get the job done.  Once that was in, they started the cervical medication and the clock began to tick down to delivery.

It was a really long day.  Eric and I shared tears together randomly, we shared our story with the sweet nurses we had, we laughed about other things together.  Laughter was such a sweet gift in the few moments we had it.  We received so many amazing texts, messages on Facebook, emails….we felt so supported and loved and I cannot express the highest amount of gratitude we have to all of you for that enough times.

We had a few amazing people come visit us.  It’s weird maybe, but it was so nice having visitors on our worst day ever.  It was  break from the loneliness and honestly, it was nice to chat about something else other than the obvious at times!  Our amazing pastor visited and gave comforting words, told us we wouldn’t know what it looked like on the other side of delivery until we were there and likely God would grant us peace we would not be able to understand where we were in that present moment.  He was right, I envisioned myself being a wreck, being angry, flailing my arms in distress and being all ‘whoa is me’.  I couldn’t see a peaceful version of myself.  But he prayed over us and the situation and it was so comforting having him there.

Friends brought us dinner around 6 and cared on us for a while.  By that time, I had been having some more significant cramping and had already had 1 dose of the IV pain meds early in the afternoon….boy did that take the edge off!  With that, I didn’t know if I would take the epidural or not, if the pain meds would be enough.  Shortly after our friends left, my contractions intensified.  I called the nurse in requesting another dose of the IV pain meds and asked that they also order the epidural.  I decided the pain was too intense and I didn’t want to feel any more pain that I already was emotionally and mentally.  The epidural certainly wasn’t going to affect baby and it would bring me physical comfort in the most distressing time of my life.

This time, the IV pain meds did nothing.  Maybe they took the edge off a teeny tiny bit, but really, nothing.  The contractions were getting more intense and I was only at a 2 at 7:30.  It was going to be a really long night and I was going to have to endure the contractions a bit more because the anesthesiologist had another epidural inline ahead of me.  I gritted my teeth and breathed through.  The nurses got everything ready to go, got me in the gown and prepped for the epidural in the meantime.  The contractions were getting so intense with little break between and I just prayed they would get there soon.

The nurses were having issues with my IV and so that was a hold up too.  All the while, the pain intensified and I regretted not asking for the epidural the second I felt my first contraction.  This was hell knowing that I was going through this pain and there was no living human on the other side of it.

Another friend was schedule to come a little after 8:30.  I told Eric to tell her to hold off until after the epidural because I was in no condition to talk. Eric sat by my side, trying to console me through this.  He offered to hold my hand but I said no.  I instead gripped the rubber case on my phone, digging my sharp nails into that knowing I couldn’t hurt the phone but I could hurt Eric and I didn’t want to do that, not really.  However, at one point I looked at him and blurted out “i just want to slap you in the face right now!”  I’m not sure where it came from, well, I do, it was from all the pain I was feeling, but I wasn’t angry at him really!  He kind of smiled and said “ok”.  I kept my hands to myself though, like a good little girl should.

The nurse checked me again as we waited for the anesthesiologist to confirm that I could still get the epidural.  The uncomfortableness of all of this was getting way over the 10 scale and I looked forward to the peace I know the epidural provides.  She wasn’t sure though, she thought I might be too far at that point and called for her charge nurse to check me. {Oh, in the meantime, we had gone through the first amazing nurse, Emily, and the 2nd amazing nurse, Erica, and were now on the amazing nurse Becca}.  The charge nurse too wasn’t sure if I could or could not have the coveted epidural or not and was going to call the delivery doctor in.

A few minutes later, while still waiting on the doctor and anesthesiologist, my pain subsided completely and in an instant a gush of warm fluid released from me.  My water broke and when I realized what happened, I cried and cried and cried, knowing I was getting closer to loosing my physical baby forever.  The nurse confirmed and cleaned me up, calling the charge nurse once again and her once again calling for the doctor.  Meanwhile, the anesthesiologist showed up ready to stick me.  I informed him I didn’t have pain anymore, at least not what I had been experiencing and so he could hold off until later.  I could feel the sensation to push but I didn’t want to.  Instead I held things together down there.  I wanted to hold this baby in until the middle of the night that we had been prepared for.  I needed a few more hours of being pregnant.

The doctor, the sweet doctor I had been told of, arrived and asked that I spread my legs a little so she could check me.  When I did this, she asked me to bear down just a little and in that moment our baby was born.

I whaled like I could never have imagined possible.  It felt so good to bawl uncontrollably.  I knew there were happy moments happening in that hospital at my moment of complete and utter devastation, but I bawled for my situation, for the loss to Eric, for the death of our child way too soon. I cried for the year it took to get pregnant, for the painful shots and procedures, for the embryos lost before this one.  I cried for the first trimester symptoms I went through, the discomfort of that.  I cried for the future we lost.

They wrapped our beautiful child up as gently as they could.  They body was so small and so fragile.  They lifted baby to me to see and I asked what it was.  The nurse told me it’s kind of hard to tell at that age, and then we saw the legs spread.  The doctor agreed with what we were seeing….this was our son.

Eric held me and we cried together.  We just lost our child forever, never having heard him cry, never seeing him take a breath, never smelling that sweet, amazing baby scent.  We lost one of the greatest gifts ever given to us.

We held our son together and marveled at his body.  He was so tiny, some of him still translucent and we could hardly move him without fear of him breaking.  But he was beautiful and perfect.  He had all of his fingers and toes, we could see his big biceps and long legs.  His ears and his nose and his eyes were so precious.  He was absolutely perfect in every physical way.

Isaiah Michael Reuer arrived in our arms at 8:27 PM on 1/11/17.  He is loved by his parents, his older brother Lincoln, his 3 living grandparents and so many more relatives.  He is joined with so many loved ones who have gone before us and he is rejoicing our creator in Heaven where we will meet him one glorious day.

Telling Lincoln

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Sleep eludes me tonight.  I took melatonin in hopes it would help me fall asleep so I could forget this nightmare for awhile, but that was over 3 hours ago and still no sleep.

Honestly, I think I may be eluding sleep.  A part of me doesn’t want to fall asleep.  If I fall asleep I have to wake up and relive this devastation.  If I stay awake I can stay numb and somewhat in denial.  My eyes are burning, begging for rest but my mind is wildly racing.

So I figured I’d journal and try to process through writing.

One of my first thoughts even before confirming the miscarriage was “how do we tell Lincoln? how will our young 5 year old possibly process this?”

After we left the doctors office, I knew I couldn’t pick him up from school, that I would surely have a breakdown at the first sight of him.  Eric offered to do this and that he wouldn’t say anything to him until we could be together to tell him.

It felt like an eternity before they got home.  All the while, I was trying to find the right words to tell a 5 year old their sibling who we had been praying for for sooooo long, would not be coming home like we had envisioned.  The pictures he drew of the family of 4 would have to hold off a little longer.  That he is a big brother, but it might not feel like it.

When Lincoln walked in the door, he flashed me his sweet smile and asked about his swimming lessons.  He could see I had been crying but just avoided that topic.  He continued to question what was for supper and if he could watch TV and a few other things that I can’t remember.  Finally I began sobbing, covering my face, and said “Lincoln, we have to tell you something.”

“What?  What is it?”

We proceeded to tell him that the baby in my tummy wasn’t alive any more.  We explained that the heart had stopped beating and we didn’t know why, but that the baby was in Heaven.  He was along to a couple of our ultrasounds and he had experienced seeing the baby move and hearing their heart beat.  He understood the baby needed a heartbeat to keep living.

Eric and I held him and held each other.  We looked back at him to see if he may have questions.  He stayed pretty silent, you could see he was trying to figure out how he should feel about this.  I explained that I would be going in and the doctor would take the baby out of my tummy for lack of a better description for him, but that the baby would not be alive.  I asked him if he would like to see the baby after this happened.  I will never forget his raw and innocent response,

“I wanted to see the baby alive.”

We both broke down and affirmed him that we did too, but that just wasn’t going to happen this time.  He didn’t have an answer for us so we told him he could think about it for awhile and let us know later.

We talked about seeing baby again someday in Heaven and how we could look forward to that.  He shed some tears, expressed he was sad and upset, and was able to move on to the next thing.  Part of me wishes I could move on so easily!

It’s hard for me to know if we did the right thing with Lincoln.  Did we share too much of the process with him for his age? Will he be scarred by this or more likely, will it just be a distant memory for him when he grows up.  I hope the latter but I also want to make sure he does get to ask any questions he may have and have the best understanding he can as a 5 year old.

We ended up going to swimming lessons and trying to make it as normal of a night for him as possible.  Before bed, I asked him again if he wanted to see the baby after he or she is delivered, or if he preferred not to.  He quietly said no, he did not want to see the baby.  I was surprised by this, but absolutely respected his decision and can see where that could just be too traumatizing for him and too much to try to comprehend.  I can appreciate that he had given it thought and made up his own mind on the matter.  Someday maybe he will have more questions and want to see photos of the baby that we can share as a family at that time.

My mind continues to spin, trying to grasp how I move on, how I go back to work, how I don’t neglect myself or my family after this.  I know I must sleep because the morning will be here soon and it will be a long and dreary day.

 

 

An Unexpected Turn of Events

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Today started like all the others.  I didn’t know this morning when I woke up that I would go to bed in tears, a completely different person.

I had my regular 16 week check up today.  In the last week and a half, I began feeling the first few flutters of baby, making this pregnancy more real and exciting!  Last weekend, Eric and I put together the new crib we purchased for baby and have been spending more time trying to organize the mess of a room that is baby’s.  I was even confident enough to purchase a diaper bag and some gender neutral onesies.  This was a big deal because I’ve been so paranoid for the next bad thing to happen.

Today was that bad day.  Today I checked in for my regularly scheduled appointment not knowing that while I sat in the waiting room, I was only 1 instead of 2.

Eric didn’t come with me to this appointment.  He had been out of the office half of yesterday waiting for the Century Link guy to come and fix our internet.  He felt he really needed to be in the office and both of us assumed it was just a normal, average appointment and felt ok with him missing it.

When the doctor came in, we reviewed how I’ve been feeling.  I was finally starting to feel better, my only complaint was a heavily used bladder and constant headaches.  She assured me this was all normal and after about 10 minutes, I hopped up on the table to do the Doppler and catch a sound of that beautiful heart beat.

She struggled to search for it for about 2 minutes.  She could tell I was starting to freak and assured me that this happens sometimes and that it appeared I was carrying pretty low and so this wasn’t anything to be too alarmed with.  She pulled out the handheld ultrasound thing-a-ma-gigger and confidently searched for the heartbeat.  Her confidence quickly drained when we could both see baby, but no fluttering organ.  There was no movement from baby.  There was no sign that things were ok.

She asked if my husband was at work and if so, was he in town?  She advised I would need to be sent upstairs to the “real” ultrasound machine and the specialty pre-natal doctor and techs.  She advised I should contact my husband and the nurse would bring me up to confirm what was going on.  She confirmed my worries with her own, but that we needed to see for sure before calling anything.

I texted Eric to get there, that there was no heart beat.

This is not something I was prepared for, but at the same time, have been half expecting since we found out we were pregnant.  You can’t possibly be prepared for something like this, to loose a child before they even had a fair shot at life.  The first thoughts in my head were “what did I do wrong?  was that too hot of a bath?  should I not have had that caffeine??  did I push it too hard working out???”

Eric arrived and the ultra sound tech turned on the machine.  She immediately confirmed there was no blood flow through the body which we could clearly see and there was certainly no heartbeat.  The small amount of hope I had been holding onto was taken away and just like that, I was no longer carrying life.

They measured baby and it appeared that baby stopped developing at 15 weeks 3 days….less than a week ago.  Nothing could be seen to indicate “why” on the ultrasound.  The prenatal doctor came in to speak with us about our options and what could be done to potentially provide us with a “why”.  It was easy for me to decide…I wanted to deliver this baby and be able to hold them, to know they were a boy or a girl, to take photos and prints and make some sad & cruel, but lasting memories.

I’m writing this now because after tomorrow, I don’t know how I’ll be.  I don’t know how I’ll function or if I’ll remember as clearly what happened today.  As much as this hurts, and so differently from all the other hurt the last year brought us, I want to remember it because this was real.

Tomorrow we will start our day as normal and bring Lincoln to school.  Then we’ll head to the hospital, go to the labor and delivery floor, and be taken to the “back area” where the full term women will not be.  I will be given medication to make my body begin the natural process of labor at an unnatural time.  I will deliver our miracle baby too soon and we will hold baby for a while, name baby to remember them always, and love baby forever.

We are not guaranteed anything in this life and this pregnancy was no different.  I’m clinging to God for strength right now and praying that He will carry me through. I always assumed that IVF would be the hardest battle to overcome and pleaded to God that I would know this devastating heartbreak.  But here we are and here we must grow from.

 

All I want for Christmas….

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Wow, it’s the middle of December already, where did the time go!  It’s been awhile since I’ve put out any update into the world on our journey.  That’s mostly been because I have had little to no ambition or extra energy to put towards anything…not even typing on a keyboard!

I’ve had 2 appointments since my last blog.  We followed up with our RE’s office back the week of Thanksgiving and got to see our precious miracle at 9 weeks.  It’s crazy the changes made from 6 to 9 weeks and you can even start to see he or she taking shape and resembling a human!  Everything looked great at this appointment, we heard a strong heartbeat at 174 beats/minute, and we were finally released from the care of their office and sent on to follow up with our regular OB doctor.  This was such a great feeling!

Yesterday, we went in for our 12 week appointment with our new doctor.  It felt strange going up the elevators to the 3rd floor rather than heading into our fertility clinic’s office on the first floor.  We’ve become so accustomed to that clinic, the receptionist, the nurses and other staff.  The 3rd floor was a whole new world with brand new faces to learn, but a welcomed change 🙂

We didn’t get the full blown ultrasound like we were used to so I don’t have pictures to share and we also didn’t get to hear the heartbeat, but our doctor did use one of those handheld U/S devices to check on our little bug.  It was incredible and brought tears to my eyes.  We could see baby’s head and legs and arms and he or she was even quite active and moved around a lot, showing off just how amazing they are already! Lincoln smiled from ear to ear watching his sibling, seeing their fast heartbeat working in their little body and dancing around inside of me.

I’m left still just in awe of the whole process.  The last year has been long and tough, I didn’t think I would ever be blessed to carry life inside of me again.  We considered giving up at times, being content with our son, but I’m so thrilled that we didn’t!  I must admit though, it still feels surreal to me that I’m pregnant, that it finally worked and that I’m coming to the end of my first trimester….God is good!

With that said, all I want for Christmas this year, is the time with my family.  I turn 32 this week, my son turns 5 next week, and then soon after we begin another year!  How did that happen!??!!  Time just flies and I wish I could slow it all down and remember every moment before it’s gone.  This year I am so grateful for everything God has blessed our family with and I’m just looking forward to the seeing God’s plan unfold in 2017!

Wishing you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and the peace that only our Savior can provide!!!