strike 3, we're out

yeah, again. it happened again.

i wish i could say it hurt less, but it didn't. i wish i could say that somehow i expected it to happen, but i honestly didn't. i wish i could say that it didn't phase me, but it totally did. but mostly, i wish i could say that our little ones are still growing and their little hearts are still beating, but they're not. yes, there were 2 little angels. God has them now, with our other 3 angels. 5 angels total.

i wish i could be more optimistic to try again, but i'm not. the fact is, our insurance won't cover anymore cycles. we've maxed out our benefits for this. so, if we want to try again, everything would be out of pocket. out of empty pockets because, well, we just closed on our new house. our new house that we started building last summer in anticipation of our first little angel. the little angel that's now sleeping in God's arms with her 4 other brothers and sisters. insert waterfall of tears here.

i wish we could afford to try again. i wish we could find a way to afford to try again. i wish i didn't have PCOS. i wish i could just miraculously be able to conceive naturally so we wouldn't have to worry about being able to afford trying again through IVF. i wish God would just give us another chance.

* * * * *

this blog was supposed to be about our little miracles. it was supposed to be about our journey to build our family from a party of 2 to a party of more. it was supposed to be a happy little blog that inspired others to keep trying for their little miracles too. but we have yet to have any little miracles.

so, for now, this blog will be on hiatus. i personally need to heal, emotionally and physically. and well, i'm sure y'all are sick of reading about our heartache. i'm sure tired of writing about it.

so, farewell for now. i hope one day i'll be back with much better news and happier entries. till then, take care and may God bless you all.

another one

another miscarriage. happened on friday, october 19, 2012.

how much more heartache can a person take?

dear God how much more pain will you put us through?

one week

one week. she/he has been gone for one week.

i haven't been crying as much - that's good right? it doesn't seem like it. when i do cry, it still feels horrible, still fresh. will that ever go away?

i still haven't mustered up the courage to talk to anyone else outside of my family and mark. i'm scared that if and when i do, something they say or do might set me off into crying mode again. i'm scared they'll ask questions that i, myself, don't have answers to. i'm scared people will look at me differently, those that know. i'm scared i'll make them feel uncomfortable and not want to be around me altogether. i don't want people's sympathy. i don't want anything from anyone really. i just need time.

when the doctor discharged me after the d & c, they handed mark a stack of papers and pamphlets for me to read while i was supposed to be lying in bed recovering.

i opened one just this morning but, after reading just the first couple of lines, i closed it and set it back on my nightstand. it just made it all too real. i mean, i know what's happened - i'm not delusional. i just don't think i'm ready to start "healing" yet. i'm still grieving. that's okay right?

i'm sure i'd find some answers to some of my questions in one of those things. but, and maybe it's just me, i don't think some pamphlet or article is really going to help me cope with all this. will it? has it really helped anyone? every case is different - how can they write a pamphlet to generalize everyone's situations?

more another day. today is just as hard as last friday was. my heart hurts.

brokenhearted

whomever said "time heals all wounds"  probably just had a measly little papercut.

it's been about 5 days, and i'm still clutching my chest trying to catch my breath. other than my family and my ever-so supportive husband, mark, i haven't been able to talk to anyone. i haven't even had the strength to get out of bed for more than 10-20 minutes. is that normal?

i don't even know what's normal these days. my routine is to get up, eat a little breakfast, stare at the tv and then cry myself back to sleep for another couple of hours till it's time to eat lunch. then, i eat a little lunch, stare at the tv and then cry myself back to sleep for yet another couple of hours till it's just about time to eat dinner. at this point, i get up, eat a little dinner, stare at the tv and then eventually, again, cry myself to sleep till morning. lather, rinse, repeat.

sometimes, somewhere in between, something sets me off and i just cry uncontrollably until, somehow, mark can calm me down. it's a seemingly endless cycle. i didn't even know it was possible for one person to cry that much!

but is any of that normal? what is a normal grieving period and method when it comes to miscarriage? is there a norm? people keep telling me to do something to keep myself busy and keep my mind off things or to do something to not dwell on this too much. it honestly makes me kind of mad and confused. should i not be grieving for my unborn child because she/he was in fact, unborn? is that why people think this should be somewhat easy to "get over"? to me, unborn or not, she/he was still my first child. wouldn't you grieve just as long or even longer for your child? isn't that a parent's given right?

i know people are just trying to help me. i know most people have no idea what to say when something like this happens. but i just want people to let me grieve on my own timetable. i want people to somehow understand that i'm just not as strong emotionally as they may be. i want people to understand that i loved her/him. i want people to understand that my heart is broken.

*  *  *

i had to go into the clinic today for an emergency ultrasound because i started to bleed heavily all of a sudden last night. dr. o'brien checked things out and it turns out that there is still a big clot in my uterus and it seems my uterus isn't compressing back to "normal" as it should be doing- not good. so she prescribed me some medication to help things get back on track. hopefully this will help to get things moving and help me heal faster... physically at least. if the medication doesn't do the job, then there's a high possibility they will have to do another d & c. all i can do is pray now.

God, if you can hear me, help. 

our loss, heaven's gain

today our hearts sank.

i woke up around 8:30 am to go to the bathroom and ate breakfast around 9 am. i responded to a few emails and chatted with my best friend until it was about time to leave for our ultrasound appointment. thus far, my morning went well. i hadn't had any spotting or bleeding since the night before and none again this morning. i still had some cramping, but it wasn't anything severe enough for me to worry about. it honestly just felt like gas.

at around 10:40 am, we arrived at shady grove for our 10:45 am appointment. the waiting room was eerily empty 'cept for us. i just thought, "what a creepy Friday the 13th" it was and sat down. we waited a few minutes and the nurse called us back. i sat on the exam table and held mark's hand till dr. o'brien and the ultrasound tech came in and began the examination.

within a few seconds, our little one appeared on the screen. there she was, as tiny as ever but something was telling me that something wasn't right this time. no matter how small or enlarged the tech tried to get her image on the screen, she just somehow looked blurry. and then dr. o'brien and the tech asked me to hold my breath so they could measure the baby's heartbeat. something really was wrong.

they couldn't find her little heartbeat. she repositioned her ultrasound wand, told me to hold my breath, and tried again. again, nothing. tears came rolling down my face, my breathing increased and got heavy, and i clutched mark's hand for dear life. her heart stopped beating.

we lost her. there on the screen was her lifeless little body; not moving, not beating, not living. i can't seem to recall everything that happened after that. all i can remember...

dr. o'brien, pulling out the rest of the table so i could rest my legs... crying so uncontrolably that i couldn't see past my tears... clutching mark's hand with my left hand and clutching the now empty screen with the other... screaming to mark for them to check again... screaming to mark for them to bring her back to me... screaming and crying till i could barely breathe...

after what seemed like a lifetime of crying, i got up and got dressed and mark walked me into an office to talk with dr. o'brien. i still could not stop crying. i vaguely remember her walking in, sitting in front of us, and explaining to us (but mostly mark), that there was nothing that i did or didn't do to make this happen. she mentioned something about a D&C and calling mark later with the details and steps on what to do next. then, somehow, we were leaving through a side door i had never been through before and i was hugging dr. o'brien tightly and she said to me "you will get through this. i promise."

we walked down a bunch of stairs and somehow got back to our car and drove home in silence. i remember feeling numb and hurt and had a huge lump in my throat and just an emptiness inside as i crawled back into bed when we got home. and i cried again and again and again. i didn't know what else to do.

after putting my things away, mark crawled into bed at my side and held me as i cried. he didn't shed a tear... at least none that i noticed. i guess people deal with tragedies differently. after a while, mark got up to get something to eat and i called my parents and siblings to break the news to them. mark had yet to muster up the strength to tell his family. after hanging up with my dad, i cried myself to sleep.

i woke up around 3 something to the ringing of my phone - it was dr. o'brien's nurse. they called to tell me that they scheduled my D&C for tomorrow morning.

• D&C, also known as dilation and curettage, is a surgical procedure often performed after a first trimester miscarriage. Dilation means to open up the cervix; curettage means to remove the contents of the uterus. Curettage may be performed by scraping the uterine wall with a curette instrument or by a suction curettage (also called vacuum aspiration), using a vacuum-type instrument.  

i'm still wondering what went wrong. she seemed to be doing so well 2 days ago. what could have possibly happened in the last 48 hours that caused this to happen? everyone keeps telling me that i did nothing wrong, but i still can't shake the feeling that i did. i feel so sad and yet so much more angry. but at who and for what- i don't know.

just when i thought things were going to be okay... something like this happens. i know she is in God's arms now, but i still wonder...

when will the heartache end already?