Three Years

3 years ago today, The Husband and I were married. 2 years ago today, we decided that we were ready to grow our family. 2 weeks after that, we found out we were pregnant with our first child. These two years have been the hardest, saddest, most draining two years of my life.
5 miscarriages.
Dozens of medical tests.
Countless times I've almost left.
But I'm still here. I remember reading a post Sharon (hi Sharon! I miss your blog!) wrote on one of her anniversaries. In the post, she said that she and her husband didn't do anything particularly special but they did hold each other and cry. I never understood that. Why would you cry on an anniversary, a celebration? Now, I get it. This anniversary is a concrete reminder of how much time has passed since my life has changed, how much I have changed. I have lost (and gained), my hopes and dreams have been shattered and reformed, and somehow I'm still in the game.
2 years ago I was naive and thought pregnancy meant a child to take home and raise. I know better now. It has been a huge struggle, and a huge wake up call. It's only been three years of marriage, but it feels like so much longer. This morning, we held each other and I cried. This life is not what I thought it would be, and not necessarily what I wanted it to be, but we have managed to keep on going.
Today, on our third anniversary of marriage, we mailed in our official homestudy application. The door that seemed so abruptly slammed in our faces has led us on a new path. I know better than to expect everything will work out, but we are hoping that sometime in the next 6 to 12 months we will welcome a child, or children, into our lives adoption.
This was by no means an easy decision; the guilt and shame that come with RPL led me to resist this path for a long time. I sometimes still feel jealous that my husband has a biokid with someone else but couldn't with me. However, after much research and discussion it suddenly dawned on both of us that this was the right choice. From our losses will come something beautiful - we will be able to give waiting children a home. This will be our journey together.
  

Quotable Sunday

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.

MARK TWAIN

Unstuck

This might be the best thing I have ever read. Ever.

The Rumpus Advice Column #44: How You Get Unstuck

Well, Fuck.

Despite going gluten free, doing weekly acupuncture, taking mega-supplements and baby aspirin, AND using progesterone suppositories, pregnancy #5 was a wash. Ironically, this pregnancy was shorter (by one week) than my other pregnancies, with the exception of the chemical in November.

Apparently, my stats now look like 0-5 % chance of ever carrying a pregnancy to term. So, looks like I may be out of this game for good. I am meeting with my doctor next week to discuss a more permanent form of birth control.

Hey at least my stepson lives with us again, since his massively pregnant 40-year-old mother doesn't give a crap about him now that she's having a new family. So, at least there's that.

(I'm pretty sure the tone of this post is why I don't blog anymore. I am a miserable bitch nowadays. Sorry for that.)


*Sorry if I lied to anyone re:this pregnancy. A few of you had asked me about TTC, and I just really didn't want to say anything to anyone, especially my fellow babyloss friends who may have been saddened to hear I was pregnant again.

Quotable Sunday

BRIAN ANDREAS, STORY PEOPLE

Just, Wow.

Mom welcomes baby after 14 miscarriages.

Quotable Sunday

Don’t allow your wounds to turn you into a person you are not.

PAULO COELHO

Going Gluten Free

After my latest miscarriage, which I don't really even count since it was deemed a "chemical pregnancy" and only lasted about a week, I begged and pleaded with my doctor to do something. We've already done the traditional Day 3 blood work ordered after a third miscarriage, with no abnormalities save mild MTHFR deficiency (solution: take a baby aspirin every day for the rest of my life, doctors assure me this is common and probably not the cause of the miscarriages).
The Good Doctor told me he cannot refer me to a Reproductive Endocrinologist until I've had one more miscarriage. Awesome. Based on some blog reading I have done and some friends I have talked to, I asked him to run test me for gluten intolerance. At first he was hesitant, but I continued to push him. I reminded him that my eggs are good and my embryos always have heartbeats and measure on track, then they slow up on growth and die. I reminded him that it seems like something is killing them and I don't know how many more times I can do this. I showed him a printout from a genetic testing lab that indicates "recurrent fetal loss" as an indication for Celiac testing. He finally agreed to run the test.
And it came back positive.
The only way to verify that I have Celiac Disease is to do a bowel biopsy, but he felt that was unnecessary. He said the antibodies were present, which was enough reason for him to recommend I try a pregnancy gluten-free and see if it helps me carry to term.
Going GF was not easy. I honestly felt like I was in withdrawal during the first week. I was more exhausted than normal, dizzy, and nauseous. I needed a nap every day and I felt like nothing I was eating was satisfying me. That first week was rough. Within 7 days, however, I started to feel better than I had before. It's been almost 8 weeks now, and I can honestly say I notice a difference. The biggest thing I notice is that I no longer feel bloated. Ever. Score! I don't feel as exhausted all the time, I don't get random muscle cramps anymore, and in general I just don't feel foggy. Fertility wise, we have yet to see what the outcome is as I haven't yet become pregnant.
I have had some changes in my digestion: I used to be very, um, regular. Now I am, ahem, not. I think this will remedy itself when the seasons change and fresh local fruit is readily available (it can be difficult to get enough fiber when eating gluten-free).
I've been able to cook for my family without any major changes. The Husband and The Kid still eat loads of bread and gluteny snacks, so I keep my gluten-free stash on a separate shelf in the pantry. After much trial and error, we've found a really good GF pasta that doesn't taste mushy or chewy. We use corn tortillas for tacos etc., and I buy GF bread (Udi's or Glutino) for sandwiches and toast (for which I have a separate toaster). Eating gluten-free is very easy at home, but a major challenge when eating out. I can't have anything from a fryolator that fries any breaded foods (so basically, nothing from a fryolator) and I have to double check with the chef on any dish that has a sauce on it. I can usually find something, but it often ends up being rather bland and one particular time there was literally nothing on the menu I could eat so I simply enjoyed the company of my friends while they ate and fixed something for myself when I got home.
I have to admit, it's nice to find something an answer, to find that we can treat. It may not solve my problems, but I feel like now I am proactively doing everything I can to make my body the healthiest it can be.

Some great links for recipes and resources:
Gluten Intolerance and Pregnancy
Gluten-Free Girl
Book of Yum (vegetarian)
A Gluten-Free Day (many baking recipes without xanthan gum)
Gluten-Free Goddess
Gluten-Free Mommy

Weirdest Night Ever

Saturday night, I went out with one of my girlfriends for dinner. We were just going to eat and have a glass or two of wine and call it a night. Well, the restaurant we chose happened to be playing the 80s music station and we found ourselves enthusiastically singing along.
"I wish we could find a karaoke place tonight!" I exclaimed.
She looked at me with mischief in her eyes and said, "Oh, but we can."
After dinner, we headed up to this somewhat divey little bar with the intention of singing one song, having one drink, and going home.
20 minutes after we sat down at the bar, in walks the pregnant Ex and Stepdad. The entire bar is empty, but they sit next to us. And blatantly talk about us. And, WHAT? Why is your pregnant ass in a bar? I got up to go to the bathroom, because The Ex makes me so uncomfortable I thought I might be sick to my stomach. Apparently, my girlfriend was a little brusque while I was gone. I wish she hadn't been, but let's face it, she's my best friend and she's been there when I needed a shoulder because of The Ex's antics. So I don't blame her.
I was sitting next to another friend we had run in to, a recent divorcee who has an antagonistic relationship with her husband's second wife (this was a situation of infidelity, so a little different). She advised me to say hi and be nice, because that would probably drive The Ex batty.
So I did.
I went right up and acted like we were old friends. We chatted for a few minutes. It was the longest conversation I've ever had with The Ex in eight years. I was nice, with one little request that she no longer take away The Kid's cellphone as punishment when he visits her, since I pay for it and it is the only way he can contact his dad. She said his behavior warranted the punishment, and I said I understood but that he needs to be able to contact his dad. She agreed to at least give us the heads up if she takes his phone away so we don't worry, albeit hesitantly. I asked what they were going to sing, to which she joked nothing since she is an awful singer. Her husband, who I was just just meeting for the first time, is the creepiest guy I've ever met. He asked me what I wanted him to sing (I said anything by Rush, for the record). He placed his creepy hand on my arm and looked me in the eyes and repeatedly said he would sing anything I wanted him to (he did not sing anything by Rush, for the record). Honestly, I felt like he was hitting on me in front of his pregnant wife, a feeling echoed by my friends in our debrief.
Shortly after that awkward moment, I returned to my group, a whole two seats away, and we continued to have a fantastic, much-needed night out. *I* even sang karaoke, giving my new bffs a little shout-out from on stage.
They actually stayed out until last call (which, in puritanical New England isn't really all that late). And I, who rarely drinks anymore, got faced. It didn't help that the later we stayed, the more of our friends trickled in and, feeling for the situation, bought me drinks.
It was truly the weirdest night ever. I felt pretty awesome for addressing their presence instead of passive-aggressively ignoring them like they were doing. And, I felt pretty awesome when every single one of my friends who haven't seen The Ex before agreed that comparatively, I am a total upgrade (shallow, yes, but hey she's old and pregnant, so I get to be prettier!). I did not feel awesome, however, when I woke up the next morning. That (and infertility) is why I don't drink anymore.
As weird as it was, something about that night was liberating. I guess, in my head, I have been imagining The Ex is getting everything she wants, living this perfect life. And, I think on the surface she is. She's remarried and having a baby with the love of her life. Her husband holds down a job, they get to travel, and they can afford to treat themselves to little luxuries. But really, she's a mess. Her family fell apart with her parents divorce. There was a big fallout between her mother and her in-laws and they can no longer do family things with both sides of the family together. She's pregnant by a man who can barely keep it in his pants (this was confirmed on Saturday but I've heard it from many of my friends who work with him), and realistically probably only married her because she can pop out his DNA in human form. Her kid hates her. And, *shallow comment alert* she's not aging well.
As much as I can't stand my husband sometimes, and as much our fertility struggles are pulling apart our marriage, he loves me so much. Our families love each other. The Kid loves us. I may not have my baby, but it isn't all that bad.

Me & The Kid

Sharon asked, a while back, how things with my stepson have been. It's a tricky question to answer.
The Kid is angry at his mother's disregard for him because of her new pregnancy. He is angry that she is pregnant because he doesn't feel she deserves to have more children. He is angry that his father and I continue to lose pregnancies because he never felt like he was being replaced when we were pregnant (looking back, he was actually excited).
Of course, the compassionate side of my wants to hug him until his head pops off. Tell him is will always be loved, never replaced, always important. Let him know how important he is to me because he might be the only child I ever get a hand in raising.
But, the weird new side of me born out of this weird new stage in my life doesn't want him around. It hurts to look at the accidental product of a terrible relationship, knowing that a much desired child from a loving relationship can't make it past 3 months gestation.
It's a true roller coaster: knowing ours is the home he feels most comfortable in and wanting to give him the comfort he deserves, and facing the pain that his presence brings to our home when he's in it (but only to me, as my husband is happy with the extra time).
On top of that, he's a teenage boy. He smells (despite frequent showering), he's moody, he's overly emotional, and he's rude. He eats me out of house and home (seriously - who makes a sandwich with an entire pound of sliced turkey?!), he is never where he is supposed to be, and he's struggling in school. Typical teenage stuff.
He's really good about not talking about the new baby, probably because he sees me lose my shit over much less and he likes having other things be the topics of conversation.
What I struggle the most with is when people say, "Well, it's only three more years." I don't want to be spending the next three years just wishing that each day will fly by so these three years will be over. I don't want to wish away part of my life. What a waste.
And I know, based on my conversations with seasoned stepmoms, that The Kid turning 18 is not a magical time of transformation. The Ex doesn't turn into a pile of dust, I won't necessarily have the children I so desire, we won't be financially liberated. Nothing will really change when he turns 18 except his legal status.
In the now, I try to react based not on my emotions but rather on what the situation dictates. But I don't always succeed and I definitely lash out. Which means I spend a lot of time quiet, and a lot of time in my room.
I think that most days he sees me as a meal ticket and a ride to where he wants to go and I see him an an annoyance, but our relationship is still hanging on.
He calls his mom "Hitler" instead of mom, so I think the fact that I'm still referred to by name is a good sign, anyway.

War Buddies

The events of the past year and a half of my life have made me a pessimist. I have always leaned towards to pessimistic side of life, but now I openly claim to be a pessimist. I try to be optimistic but then life cuts me down a notch so I find pessimism to be safer. A defense mechanism, if you will.
I am not a happy person.
Funny, though. This new, sad me has met some of the best friends of my life over the last year. And they are all sad, like me. But together, we are happy, we have fun, we laugh because we know we're all in the same boat. Or, similar boats.
Dee lost her dad very unexpectedly. He was her best friend and closest confidant. He literally dropped dead in front of her.
B left his life behind on the west coast to start new here. He left behind a lot of baggage. A lot. I swear, sometimes I think he ripped off his life story from Days of Our Lives, or something.
Jer came home from work and found that his wife, his high school sweetheart, had moved all of her stuff out of their home with no warning. She served him divorce papers on his birthday.
Sometimes, when I go out with "regular people" it feels so forced. They are all so supremely happy, with their new babies and their perfect marriages and their intact families. But when I get together with this motley crew, it's genuine. There is no pity in their eyes when they look at me because their hell is just as real as mine. They don't judge if I snap for no apparent reason because little triggers set them off too. They don't hesitate to lend me a shoulder to cry on because they need a shoulder sometimes too.
It sucks that we all have these trials to deal with, but out of the muck and mire came these new friends. These are friendships forged in the heat of battle. We're there to carry each other out of the trenches and nurse each others wounds. We all cherish our own lives a little bit more, while at the same time hating every minute of them right now. No matter what happens from here on out, the memories of this painful time will always be with us, a black splotch in what I hope are otherwise bright lives.
Don't get me wrong, I still would rather be planning my child's first birthday party for the end of this month. I'd rather be agonizing over leaving my baby at daycare. I'd rather be a mom. I wish I didn't know this darkness. But, I'm glad that out of these clouds I've found a slice of sunshine. I'm glad I found some people to fight this battle with.

A List

I feel like I have a million things to say but I can't seem to organize them. I figured I'd try a list, in no particular order.
1. The Ex is pregnant. She is eight years older than me and a shitty, shitty person and a terrible mother. Her husband smokes a pack a day and looks like a pedophile. So of course, she immediately gets pregnant with a healthy baby while I continue to miscarry. I won't tell you the things I said when I found out; they are pretty horrible.
2. The Kid is not thrilled with the new pregnancy. "They're just treating me so different," he says. He lives with us again. *sigh* And of course, now that The Ex is starting her "new family" she doesn't give a crap about the kid she already has. She doesn't even care if he visits on weekends.
3. The Husband and I are never going to get pregnant again with a teenager living with us. I miss privacy!
4. I had another brief pregnancy in November. It only lasted a week after I found out. I prefer that type of miscarriage to the three month kind, but it still sucks.
5. Due to results of the Celiac antibody panel (which I begged my doctor for), I am now gluten free. The first week was horrible but now I feel great. But I do miss beer. A lot.
6. At this current point in my life, I am the most sad I have ever felt. I cry every. single. day. I am everything 20-year-old me said I'd never be. Most of the time I can't stand my husband, who is never home due to his work schedule anyway. So I'm stuck taking care of his kid, whose mother doesn't want him anymore because she's gestating new spawn. No amount of yoga or meditation seems to help me let it go. I hate my job. The only things that make me smile are my dogs. I'm at a loss for what to do to get myself back on track again.
7. Oh yeah, dogs. Plural. We adopted another dog in September, shortly after Big Dog died. She was abandoned by her previous family (like, literally tied to a tree when they moved away), so she has some "issues" but overall has been a great addition to our household. Girl Dog and Little Dog are best friends and keep me pretty busy. I have officially become a crazy dog lady, and may or may not have dressed them in Santa and Mrs. Claus suits last month. Note to fellow infertiles: get a dog, if you can. It really, really helps.

So there you have it: a list. It's a bit squirrelly and not really complete, but I don't know where to put the things in my head lately so here they go.

Sayonara 2011

Well, thank God that's over. 2011, that is. I am so ready for a new year, a fresh start.

My goal for 2012 is not to be so angry all the time. I spent so much of 2011 angry at things I couldn't control. The always-angry me is not who I really am, it it disrupted my life tremendously.

So here we are, 3 days in and I'm feeling like maybe this is our year. With lots of yoga to clear my head, I'm very optimistic. I think I may even return to the blogosphere, since not every post will be a raging rant.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy 2012. If it's not better than last year, then it better bring the end of the world.

xx

The Truth About Trying

I know I've said before, shortly after I joined the Recurrent Pregnant Loss club, that this blog wouldn't become an infertility blog. But, as I continued to lose pregnancies, my infertility became a huge part of my life as a stepmother. In fact, it nearly destroyed my relationship with my stepson, who I sometimes call "The Boy Who Lived." To raise a child whose mother is a complete wackadoo, who pretty much dropped him like a hot potato when she met a man, when you can't have your own children, is awful. It is truly a special kind of grief (and I know there are so many of you out there with me). When I look at The Kid, I get angry, even still. Why could she have a baby? Why does SHE get to be the mother of the man I love's child? What is wrong with me?
Locked inside my own head, I was losing it. I was tired of people asking when we were going to have kids. I was tired of people not acknowledging that for 7 months last year, I was pregnant. I was a mother. Three times. To three potential children. Who died. I wanted everyone to know what I have gone through. So I started telling them. I tried to move past the loneliness, the shame, and the sadness that reached to the core of my being.
It has been 16 months since we started trying to grow our family. In that time, I have lost three pregnancies and my mind. Now, I'm trying really hard to come back to me.
Today, I stumbled upon this project, The Truth About Trying, an infertility video series built from a partnership between Redbook Magazine and RESOLVE. The goal of the project is the end the stigma of shame and secrecy surrounding infertility, and to start a dialogue about the disease. Though there are many, many blogs out there that provide necessary and meaningful support to women in all walks of infertility and pregnancy loss, I've been hardpressed to find mainstream media that offers the same. I hope this project catches on and inspires women not to suffer in silence anymore. Because it's impossible to do it alone.
If you are struggling to build your family, or if you have friends who are struggling, I recommend checking this series out.

Quotable Sunday

The moment you can visualize being free from the things that hold you back, you have indeed begun to set yourself free.

UNKNOWN

Should Marriage Have a Sell-By Date?

Most of you who read this are probably either in your second marriage, or with to a partner who was married prior to being with you. Being in this situation gives us a unique perspective on the longevity of marriage, I think. This morning, I came across this article on the Huffington Post site.
It discusses how a political party in Mexico is proposing a minimum marriage contract, wherein newlyweds reevaluate their marriage at the two year mark and renew the marriage contract if they are still happy. Child custody and mutual property provisions written into the term contract.
I am fascinated with the idea.
Would you participate in a term marriage? Do you think it negates the whole idea of marriage?
Would you have renewed at two years? I'm not so sure I would have...

Quotable Sunday

I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.

HARPER LEE
TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD

A Sad Goodbye

The one thing that our messed up little family had in common was our Big Dog. The Husband got Big Dog when The Ex left him. Big Dog was a tiny, 15 pound monster, small enough to sit inside The Husband's jacket when they went outside. He grew to be a 90 pound powerhouse who could drag you down the street if he a saw a squirrel he felt was worth it.
The Kid called Big Dog his brother. He was the dog that got him through his parent's divorce. They were the best of friends.
I met The Husband when Big Dog was about a year and a half. At the time, The Husband was a commercial fisherman and was leaving Big Dog alone, in his crate, for way too long. I couldn't bear it and would go over to his apartment and let Big Dog out, take him for walks play with him. We became fast friends.
A year after that, I moved in with The Husband. I took it upon myself to acclimate the puppy to living outside the crate. He was a crazy dog and this was no easy task. At the time, The Husband had this hideous living room set. It looked like he stole it from a retirement home in south Florida. It. Was. Awful. I came to find out that The Ex had chosen it for their marital home. Now, Big Dog had a penchant for couch cushions. He loved to jump on them, chew them, rip them off the couch etc. Did I mention he was a crazy dog? Well, I may have encouraged said behavior because about a month in to my out-of-crate training, that awful, awful couch was all but destroyed. Stuffing was everywhere, pillows were shredded, fabric was dirty and torn. (I may or may not have helped in the process.) I think all stepmoms can related to wanting as many traces of the ex-wife out of their lives as possible. Big Dog helped to start the purge (and was a great scapegoat!).
I never shared this story with The Husband until this past Monday, when we spent the day remembering all sorts of things about our Big Dog. We came home from getting ice in the neighboring state (since Irene knocked out our power for three days) to find our beloved Big Dog lying next to Little Dog's crate, cold and lifeless. He was not sick (that we know of) and he was not old. We have no idea what happened. We are devastated.

Big Dog saw us through a lot. The divorce. The Ex taking away The Kid. Us splitting up. Our eventual reconciliation and marriage. Our miscarriages. Our grief. Our triumphs. He was always there to put his massive head and your lap, look up with his big, kind eyes and let you know that everything would be okay. The day he died, I gave him a huge hug and told him he was my favorite dog ever. I didn't know that I would come home just a few short hours later and he wouldn't be there anymore. I'm so, so glad those were my last words to him.

Little Dog, you have some big paw prints to fill.

Quotable Sunday

For every loss there is an equal gain, for every gain there is an equal loss.

YOGI TEA BAG

Quotable Sunday

The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES