PerchanceToDream

Because I have no patience, because I never thought I’d get this far only to find that it is all in jeopardy, and because I really don’t understand how two doctors can see the same thing 3 days apart and have such drastically different reactions, I called one of the two wonderful IUI nurses at my center yesterday.  Both women are straight-shooters to the point of being blunt but they’re both patient advocates and very supportive.

I explained the situation and she said “yes, I’m looking at the notes and I can see why you’re confused.” She then gave me the measurements that I was too shocked to ask the doctor for on Monday.  Those were: Sac 9.2, yolk 3.6.

She said that if it were her, she’d come in today (Wednesday) for another scan but honestly, I just don’t have the heart for it.  Next week will be hard enough.  She said that she would print my report off and take it directly to my doctor and have him call me (his amazingly efficient assistant was out).

About 10 minutes later he did call and while he didn’t necessarily give me more hope, I felt better informed.  He virtually apologized for being “so” gloom-and-doom and said that while he didn’t want us to give up hope he also really hoped and expected to see a heartbeat at that point (join the club!).

He said that the sac size was right on target (do I see the only doctor who doesn’t give measurements in weeks and days?) but that the sac was the least representative measurement.  He said the the yolk sac size was fine but when pressed said that he hadn’t seen a fetal pole either.

I explained that so many people have been telling me that it’s just too early to toss the towel in and while I understood where he was coming from, I’m not yet ready to give up all hope. I guess my current thoughts are that we’ll go in Monday and we’ll either be deliriously happy to see a pole and heartbeat or we’ll be devastated.  If there IS a pole and everything else is growing, I’m definitely going for a second opinion.  If there is no growth and no pole then I supposed I’ll have to face the inevitable.

In college I had a cut-out on my wall that said “Anything done for the first time, unleashes a demon” (if anyone has ever read the comic book series “Cerebus” it was a cover from that). I’ve been thinking of that a lot lately. This first pregnancy has brought joy to it that is different from the joy that subsequent pregnancies might bring. If this one doesn’t work I’m going to be constantly watching over my shoulder for complications….whereas this one seemed to be created by magic.

Thanks to all who have posted and sent notes of prayers and good wishes.  And thanks to Oro for linking to yesterday’s post. Oro, in answer to your question about waiting a full week (presumably you meant past next Monday’s scheduled ultrasound?) here’s the problem.

On the 9th I fly to California to staff a convention for work where I will be until the 19th.  We have 4 department heads (myself included) and my boss and a couple of admin people to manage programming for 800 women.  Plus, our meeting planner will be having a c-section on the 6th so I’m taking over all the audio-visual.  My fear is that if I do decide to wait, to see what course nature takes, that I will spend 2 days of the convention alone in a hotel room miscarrying.

So honestly, I don’t know what to do.  What has my husband and I most stumped is that the doctor on Friday (6w1d) seemed totally positive and told me not to worry about the heartbeat because it was still early. MY doctor on Monday (6w4d), one of the top 10 in NYC, etc., etc., was totally gloom and doom.  I realize that things change fast at this stage of development but to go from “don’t worry” to “I don’t think this is likely” in 3 days???? Either there is information we’re not being given or……or what?  I’m not really sure.

I’ve called my OB-GYN (even though he isn’t on our insurance plan) to discuss getting a second opinion.  But of course he’s on vacation and won’t be back until Thursday and not in the office until Friday. But I’ll try to speak to him somehow and maybe even talk him into a scan before I have to make some final decision. (Hey, if anyone knows of a great gyn in Manhattan who takes AETNA - PLEASE get in touch!!!).

In the meantime, I bounce between completely despondent and hopeful about every 10 seconds. It doesn’t help that I’m quite sore today - not crampy but the muscles in my sides feel quite tender. But mostly it’s my heart that is hurting.  And my head while I try to wrap my thoughts around all of this.

I woke up on Thanksgiving day, eager to fulfill a family tradition: Watching NBC’s coverage of the Macy’s parade. As I turned to get out of bed, I felt a sharp pain in my left side, rather like a pulled muscle. I made it to the couch to watch the floats but the pain wasn’t going away and all I could think of was that my pregnancy was ectopic and that I’d never be able to celebrate Thanksgiving again.

By the time I called the  doctor, they said to give it the day and come in on Friday morning for an ultrasound. I cooked while Hubby took care of everything else and we had our Thanksgiving day feast although there was a bit of a somber pall over it.

We went in on Friday and found out that it was not an ectopic pregnancy but a huge cyst that was causing my pain. The doctor explained that sometimes these can twist on their own and then untwist which is where the pain comes in. She said that what I needed to be careful of was having the cyst rupture in which case I’d feel (according to her) the worst pain I ever felt.  Oh joy!

Then she asked one of those questions that you might not want to hear from your doctor: “So, how many do you think you’re carrying?”.  “Um….well, we were hoping for one,” I stammered. She said that she suspected either twins or triplets. I was floored. We floated out of the office in shock. And I was giddy with this all weekend. Although terrified of the idea of multiples, Hubby surprisingly wasn’t and that made me think that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.  And having multiple embryos made me think that the chance of having one healthy one was increased.

It was 6w1d and she couldn’t see heartbeats though so she told me to come back as scheduled on Monday.

Today.

So in we went. On a miserable, grey morning.  There are places where I love rain.  New York isn’t one of them. When we got to the office, the building door was inexplicably locked. The doctor, who was probably driving in from someplace lush, was seriously delayed. We waited and waited and I tried not to take all of this as a bad sign.

This time the wand went in and the doctor pretty much ignored the cyst and went right for the uterus. He is skeptical that there is more than one (certainly if there is the 2nd and/or 3rd are smaller than they should be). And while the one is growing appropriately, he still couldn’t see a heartbeat at 6w4d.

He gives this pregnancy less than 50% chance of viability. We go back next Wednesday but he’s already told me to think about D&C versus natural miscarriage, recommending the D&C as I need to fly to California on the 9th.
What a difference a few days make.

How do we get through this week?

Growing up, Thanksgiving was always a great holiday. My paternal grandparents would have 40 or 50 people over for dinner in their finished basement and, as the only child in the family, I loved all of the attention and festivities. It was also my grandparent’s anniversary. Being in retail, the national holiday meant that my grandfather could close the store so they took advantage of the time off and got married then.

Ever since my grandfather and mother died and I moved away from home, the holidays have been different. I make a full thanksgiving feast for my husband and I (and the animals are more than happy to pitch in eating things) and I still get up in the morning to watch the parades on TV and call my dad. But every year I miss those huge parties and memories of my dad and uncle playing catch in the middle of the street and the candles running down the length of the huge table.

Last year, we knew what we were grateful for. My husband had just arrived in the US a few weeks before so we ate, drank and enjoyed the paper Hallmark turkey centerpiece that my dad sent us when we were living in the UK.

This year, if all goes well, it will be the last one we spend, just the two of us. I will be drinking my non-alcoholic champagne and trying not to count the hours down until the ultrasound on Monday morning. But I know that we’ll be giving thanks in advance for what we hope is a positive outcome.

It is hard to walk the line of hedging bets. I still try hard to couch comments in “Ifs”..”If all goes well”, etc. At the same time, I don’t want to look back and regret not allowing myself to feel the joy of these moments. And I can’t help but hope that we’re creating our own traditions that our child will someday look back on nostalgically. Maybe my paper turkey will be passed down and become a family heirloom. You never know.

I hope that you all have a wonderful holiday and that the wishbone brings you your most treasured dreams.

I’d say about half of my friends have children.  Some of my friends are younger and may go on to yet, some are my age or older and have decided not to or are on the cusp of deciding one way or another.  Of my friends with children: 3 have successfully used assisted reproduction of some sort, 2 have had early miscarriages, 1 has had a late term “miscarriage” (pre-mature labor that wasn’t stopped due to suspected chromosomal issues), 1 has had to reduce in order to save her twins.  None of my friends who want them have been unable to have children and none have adopted (although two ARE adopted).

I guess I’d pretty much assume that those numbers are a fair cross-section for any group. But reading all the blogs, I’m shocked (and terrified) by the number of early miscarriages reported. I realized that, as infertiles, we’ve got an uphill road and we’re pumping our bodies full of crazy hormones and medication; we’ve had illnesses and scarring and structural issues and male factors. We’re aware of being pregnant well before most people even notice that their period is late. We’re more in tune with our bodies than the average person and pour (literally) blood, sweat, tears and often huge sums of money into becoming parents.

And perhaps because we’ve chosen to become part of the blogging community, we’re more open about things when they go wrong.  But at 42, pregnant for the first time, I have to say that I was blissfully ignorant about everything that could go wrong. And I miss that.