Over one third of a year
to see him smile
Three weeks ago we lost our tiny baby.
At 18 weeks he was born quietly, without the joyous celebration we had expected and wanted for him.
My pregnancy had been uneventful and smooth. There wasn’t a reason why he died the doctor said. Just another victim of my exaggerated immune system I imagine. When I think I don’t have any more tears they seem to find me.
In the car,
in the grocery store when I see the baby aisle,
when talking with someone as pregnant as I would be now,
when a friend calls to ask how the pregnancy is going…
Most recently at breakfast in a restaurant-
at the table next to us with two beautiful baby boys that looked like mine would have,
like his brothers did at that age, with beautiful fat baby cheeks and sweet blonde wisps of hair…
Grief is a strange animal.
I haven’t been wanting to write about this…
I went to my specialist (reproductive endocrinologist) to have my 3rd ultrasound…
I have P.C.O.S. along with a small tumor on my pituitary gland that causes all sorts of hormonal havoc. After I realized when I was in my 20’s that five years is not a normal time frame for most people to get pregnant, I started asking questions.
“Are night sweats normal for a 24 yr old?”
“Shouldn’t I have more than 3 cycles a year?”
No doctor would listen. I was thin, healthy in all other ways. They did no tests and told me it was normal. (IT IS NOT.)
I started taking herbal supplements for menopausal women and in a matter of months I was pregnant with my Emily.
When she was two we started trying again.
Three years and four miscarriages later I got mad.
I researched online and in libraries and read two wonderful books “Taking Charge of Your Fertility” by Toni Weschler and “Women’s Bodies-Women’s Wisdom” by Dr. Northrup when I realized I had P.C.O.S. It took almost year and a half to get someone to test me for it. And the result?
“Oh, we are happy to tell you we discovered your problem.”
“Hmm,” I said.
“P.C.O.S.!” the doctor beamed.
Not wanting to do anything the doctor wanted me to (drugs, drugs, or drugs) I changed my ways.
- No red meat. (Organic wasn’t available then, probably would be fine but I still avoid all red meat.)
- No milk but organic milk. (Stopped drinking soy milk also because it has estrogen like components.)
- Almost all organic veggies.
- When I’d start getting hot flashes I’d use natural progesterone cream for a few months.
Guess what? I got pregnant with my second, then third kids.
I also demanded progesterone shots and took a daily baby aspirin.
Healthy miracle babies later I thought I was over all this.
I got pg in early December and thought it would be okay this time, now I knew what to ask for.
Two, almost three months later at my 3rd ultrasound…
“No heartbeat.” the doctor said and walked out of the room.
In his office he had the nerve to say:
“I didn’t do anything wrong, there’s nothing I could have done.
“This happens with OLD moms.”
OH HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT, I AM ONLY 39!
*In my head: (“Hey doc, have you not been my doctor for 11 years or even read my record? The other four miscarriages were in my 20’s!”)
“There’s nothing I did wrong. There’s nothing I did wrong. Nothing I did wrong.” he said.
I was in shock. Too upset to cry.
My mom said in the lobby…
“That jerk didn’t even offer you a Kleenex.”
My conclusion. Infertility sucks. So does P.C.O.S. (And most doctors even worse.)
Even if I do feel broken and inadequate right now,
I have an awesome mom who worries about me having a tissue,
I have three wonderfully, miraculous, phenomenal kids,
I have a supportive, loving, sexy, husband who loves me.
THEY are my heart that won’t quit.