I had a weird dream last night. I went to an appointment to meet Dr. Brave.rman (the supposed repeat pregnancy loss deity) and for whatever reason I was wearing yoga pants and a plain ribbed tank top with no bra. The nurse checking me in chastised my choice of wardrobe, saying, “Didn’t you read the explicit instructions that said to ‘dress in casual layers’ for your appointment? The doctor will never accept you as a patient when you’re dressed like that.” So while waiting for him to come into the room, I found some random rack of sample sweaters and frantically tried to cut off the tags and rip off the size stickers (also, bizarrely, to cut it down from long sleeved to 3/4 sleeved) before he came in the room. I did it just in the nick of time. He walked in, accepted my casually layered outfit and proceeded to schedule an appointment. I had brought three black leather-bound books with me thinking that they were my appointment book, but each time I opened one to write down the appointment time, it turned out to really be a Bible. Weird, right?
One more dream and then I promise I’m done. On Friday night I dreamed that I met my baby. I was in the hospital and had just given birth, and I distinctly saw her little face. I remember in my dream crying and being so happy and so, so grateful. In short, it was the perfect moment. At the time I took it as a good omen for the ultrasound on Monday. Now… I hope it’s just a good omen for the future in general, and for me giving birth myself.
Enough about dreams, though. How am I doing? I’m… resigned. It’s just so different this time. In a way it’s a little easier because I was more prepared, whereas last time I was completely blindsided. In a way, it’s also harder. I’ve now become part of a very, very small percentage of the population who suffers from repeat pregnancy loss (RPL). I am the 5%! I’ve never been less excited to be so “special.” After my first miscarriage, many women opened up about their losses and I realized how common it really is. It made me feel sort of all right about it. But two? That’s a whole other ball game. I know it happens, but it’s so much less common. Even though I’m not, I can’t help but feel very alone and terribly flawed.
In a short space of time, I’ve also had to adjust my view of myself. Ever since two years ago when we were first diagnosed, we’ve known that our problem was severe MFI. We were looking at low volume, low count, low morphology, low motility… it seemed so obvious. Everything with me checked out perfectly. I became absolutely convinced that if I could somehow just get my eggs fertilized that the rest would be a cakewalk. That’s why IVF felt like such a dream come true. That’s why my first BFP was so exciting and I wasn’t really scared. That’s why I was knocked on my ass when I lost the twins. I was supposed to be the perfect one (reproductively speaking, of course). We overcame our problem only to find a bigger problem lurking in the shadows. It just makes me feel so broken.
Besides all of that sad stuff, I’m also feeling very grateful today. I’m grateful for my husband. He and I rarely see eye to eye on things (our conflicts are part of what keeps life interesting), but for each and every part of this he’s somehow managed to say what I’m thinking before I can say it. The first time he said, “Let’s try again!” This time he said, “We need to take a break.” Even though I felt the same, it was so comforting that he was the one to say it. It was such a relief to not have to argue about how to proceed.
I’m grateful for the girls at work. My sort-of boss (my actual boss is in the UK…it’s a long story) insisted that I take off yesterday and today, no penalties. My friends at work sent me comforting texts, and my counterpart picked up my slack without comment or complaint. It’s such a relief to not have to worry about work right now. I took the day today to regroup and get my bearings. I really needed that, and I’m so glad I can be honest with work rather than have to make up silly excuses.
I’m grateful for my dear friend Jana who sent me a beautiful bouquet. If you ever want to take a break from reading about infertility and catch up with an uber-cool yet down-to-earth girl living the dream in the big city, check out Brooklyn According to Jana. And in case you needed proof that she’s an excellent writer, here’s the card she sent:
As long as we persist in our our pursuit of our deepest destiny, we will continue to grow. We cannot choose the day or time when we will fully bloom. It happens on its own. Thinking of you.
Finally, I’m grateful for all of you. I didn’t respond to my comments yesterday as I normally try to, but I will say that each and every one of you made me feel a little bit better. Thank you for caring about me so much. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s this blog and the willingness of my followers (gee, I sound like a cult leader) to say the right things right when I need them. You may regret requesting that I keep writing though, because I feel like the floodgates are opening, content-wise. I guess it takes a tragedy to really get my writer juices flowing (I think happy people are boring anyway).