Archive for May, 2009

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Reading “Waiting For Daisy”

May 21, 2009

This is a book about a woman’s quest for motherhood and its written beautifully. I’ve devoured half of it in just one sitting. There is a part where she finds out she is pregnant for the second time. She describes knowing her miscarriage before it happened Suddenly I felt the thread, that silvery strand connecting us, snap. Just like that. “Its over,” I wishpered and started to cry.

Wow. It’s so weird how I just knew at a certain point that this would not happen. I worried from the day of the first ultrasound because the size was too small for where I knew I was. They insisted I did not know when I conceived and it was fine. I said nothing though I knew the day we conceived. I had two ultrasounds and each one the size was measured smaller. I remember for three weeks in a row being told I was five weeks along. I pushed this away. Then, I remember the moment I realized he was gone. I kept telling myself it was my paranoia. I guess I was in denial but I remember. There was a connection, a glint in my eyes, and then it was gone. I no longer felt his presence within me. I began fearing my second trimester appointment that was coming up praying I would hear a heart beat. Turns out I didn’ t need to wait that long to know that I was right.

If you are struggling with infertility this is so far a gorgeous book of comfort. I haven’t finished it, but I have a feeling it has a happy ending and I could really use a happy ending story.

**Updated to add: I’ve finished the book and it really is a great story and the perpective of a woman who has tried it all it seems in her quest for motherhood. As sad as her story is she tells it without getting too sentimental, and she is very honest throughout. I recommend it.

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Insurance and my Miscarriage

May 21, 2009

I check the mail today to find a letter from my insurance provider stating in effect that they are determining whether or not they will cover my emergency room bill for April 13, 2008 and if I could provide some information to better help them with their determination.

Yeah, insurance company, that’s the day I had a fucking miscarriage and began hemmoraghing. Was it not enough that minutes after they pronounced my uterus empty, the insurance lady came in inquiring the particulars of my coverage and if I had a copy of my insurance card, and reminding me I forgot to sign some paperwork on releases the insurance company would need in order to cover my fucking miscarriage.

We can argue all we want about universal health care, or not. All I know is that the way things are done right now, this corporate America mentality to health care, this is not only wrong, its inhumane.

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Moving on but staying put

May 19, 2009

Jack and I went on a trip to the pacific northwest this past weekend. We flew into Seattle and also spent two nights in Portland, OR. I have always wanted to live in Portland based on what I’ve heard about it. The world’s largest bookstore, beautiful rose gardens, a wonderful small town which is quaint but cultured and beautiful! I am proud to say that I had only one day where I got a bit teary but otherwise, I have not wept in about four days.

It’s funny how my view on my miscarriage and my infertility  has changed since my miscarriage. When I saw parents with young children and babies, I always felt a tug, the biological clock, tapping on my empty womb, but now, its different. I wish I could explain it. We walked by the space needle in Seattle and I did not want to go up because judging from the people standing in line, it was something you do with kids. They had a whole carnival set up, for kids. In Portland, I was browsing through Powell’s books and stared at the large children’s section. They had the “Hungry Caterpillar” series. If I was pregnant I would have purchased a suitcase worth of kids books. I kept seeing pregnant women and feeling a feeling like homesickness… except I can’t go back.

I always felt a sense of sadness over my infertility but now I feel childless. I keep thinking of my baby. The life I had so briefly planned. I see children and I see little ones who made it through the first trimester. I feel like a poor kid who craved a lollipop for weeks. The shop owner says, “You want it? Go take it. No really, you can have it.” The kid reaches out and holds it. He unwraps the plasic cover and glances at the shop owner who smiles and nods encouragingly. As he opens his mouth to taste, he shop owner grabs the lollipop, kicks him to the floor, the lollipop now shards. That’ll teach you to think you can just have a lollipop!

Before my miscarriage, I stared at the lollipop with large longing eyes. Now, I’m tending to bruises and feeling stupid for having dared coveted it. Before my miscarriage, I longed to be pregnant. Now I am scared to dream.

So in short, I think I’m moving on, though in some ways I remain running in place.

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.

May 17, 2009

.

You come

like

clockwork

a swiss train

so unlike

the rickety rickshaw

you are.

You come

bearing roses,

red,

thorny.

You whisper

sweet nothings

empty promises

of tomorrow-

as I bleed.

You and I know

the unspoken truth

We both know:

I can’t leave.

so I run my hand

over this battered body

and I

believe.

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I got my period.

May 14, 2009

I think whoever named the dot at the end of the sentence a period was someone who struggled with infertility. A period is the end. It is the final point. It is an emphatic statement. It is telling me no, period.  Don’t waste money on a pregnancy test, period. You are not pregnant, period.

A new month. A new cycle. The endometrial lining sheds. The period ensues. The body forgets what the mind cannot, that a child once resided inside. My body, it has moved on.  Body, I appreciate you started a cycle as you were supposed to. This is a feat I don’t recall you ever doing. But body, since you’ve decided to move on, why couldn’t you take the rest of me with you?  This bleeding should comfort me that hope lies ahead, but all it does is remind me of the blood I shed four weeks ago. The little being that left me bereft. The soul that still does not know how to mend.

I feel like pounding my hands on the pavement and yelling to God  I don’t want to be infertile. I tremble with tears and rage. I tremble with fear for my future, this unknown journey. Next cycle is out because my supposed ovulation will occur during my brother’s wedding weekend for which my mother has arranged all the men to stay in hotels and all the womenfolk relatives to invade the home. I laugh at this worry since it took so long to get pregnant, am I really foolish enough to think it will just take one cycle to conceive?

The cramps hurt more. The bleeding is worse. The emotional devestation scorches my soul yet again. I called it my miracle pregnancy. I’ve heard lightening does not strike twice.

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I see Spot.

May 14, 2009

I spotted. Ive been trying to push it out of my mind because it could simply be a) remnants of my miscarriage b) signal of an impending period c) by body behaving loony as it is wont to do. But-  of course, I wonder. Despite the improbability, the objective fact, I wonder. I berate myself. Then I wonder: implantation bleeding? At least I have the ability to ceaselessly amuse myself at the disconnect of my objective reality and fanciful desperate hopes.

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My miscarriage, my fault

May 14, 2009

I rarely get on twitter anymore. I never was big on it anyway. Today I checked in. A friend who is a new mother tweeted After nine months I can finally eat raw cookie dough! I missed it so.

I am now biting my lip to fight back tears. You see,  I ate raw cookie dough. I ate sunny side up eggs, twice. You’re not supposed to eat raw eggs when you’re pregnant. The day I found out I was pregnant, I had eaten sushi. No! Said the doctor- no sushi for you! I drank tea almost every day. Some caffeine okay, but better none at all! I lifted a carry on suitcase. No straining yourself when pregnant! I remember seeing a man looking at me as I lifted it and thought, I shoudl ask him. But I didn’t. I did it myself.

I read that one sentence and guilt now seeps through my pores like acid. What kind of mother would I be? Could I not push away for nine months my selfish desires? Did I in any way cause my baby to die? Is this my fault? Do I deserve to be a mother?

Dear God- if you still listen to me. I promise to be better next time. I swear.