Ellie

My abandoned blog…..I had stopped writing for so long, as it had become a source of stress instead of a place of comfort.   So much has happened during that time. 

We found I was pregnant with our 4^th baby….we guarded our hearts hard, but we kept hitting milestones.  We found out she was a girl.  We named her Eliana JoAnn Riggle “Ellie”.  We celebrated her with family and friends.  We bought her clothes and bows and nursery décor and toys.  We broke my rule….we got excited. 

1 day short of 18 weeks, we found out Ellie had died.  Even as I sit here and type those words, they take my breath away.  This time was different.  This time I had to deliver our baby….I got to hold our baby.  We had to bury our baby.  Losing our first 3 children was hard, and I miss them all, but this one, it broke me.   It devastated us and others who loved her. 

I spend my days trying to avoid my thoughts and trying to fight back tears.  I struggle to find simple words, I feel almost zombie like, and physically, I am just not bouncing back.  My blood tests aren’t great and I had to have heart tests….my thoughts, my heart is literally broken.

Our loved ones have been beyond amazing….I think sometimes bad things happen so you can be reminded of the good stuff.  I have searched for answers and beat myself up over every single thing I could have done differently.  People say it isn’t my fault…..no one else’s body killed her though.  I have that to live with. 

More than anything, I want my baby back.  She should still be alive and safe….I relive those moments in the ultrasound room on constant repeat….I’m still pleading the same thing to God, yet He doesn’t hear. 

We have officially closed the door on being parents.  There will be no miracle for us. 

Numbers and Dates

Started writing before our loss:

7/20/17

Up bright and early Thursday morning to be the first stabbing at the lab.  Rush home to await results..... drumroll please,  62.  And progesterone has gone up (thanks to meds). 

Wait for hours for the doc to call and crickets.  I finally call them and talk to the nurse.  Met with the same cautious and worried tone as last time.  I ask about baby aspirin and they agree it's a good idea (good cause I started it days ago).  They also want to monitor my thyroid. 

Repeat bloodwork on Monday.  Monday is a big big day. Takes my breath away. 

We're still avoiding the subject.  In the past I would have bought something by now or dug out name books.  Not this time.  I've learned the pain that causes.... I'm teary eyed just thinking of that pain.  Dear God, I beg you to let this time be different. 

7/24/17

185

So very hopeful!!!

7/28/17

ER - ectopic pregnancy.  1 day shy of 6 weeks.

7/31/2017

Methotrexate injections

And We're Here Again

Another loss.  Another heartbreak.  Another baby we'll only hold in heaven. 

Almost a month later and I'm still dealing with this ectopic pregnancy.  Methotrexate, hospitals and that empty, sad feeling. 

I feel like I need to write everything down, yet I don't feel like opening the wounds more.  I'll publish the pieces I started writing during happier times, because this baby deserves to be remembered. 

It just hurts. A lot. 

Dear Baby Who Should Be In My Arms Today

Dear Nugget,

Today should be filled with booties, camera flashes, oohs and aahs, and more importantly you should be in our arms.  Instead it's filled with tears and hurt, as it's now another date that reminds us that we'll never hold our sweet babies until heaven. 

You were in and out of our lives very quickly, but in those few weeks, I was your Mommy.  I started loving you and building hopes and dreams for you.  My precious baby, it breaks my heart that you're not here with us. 

As we've worked to accept our childless life on this side of heaven, there are days when the sadness is overwhelming.  Slowly though, we're healing. 

You're getting a cousin this year.  I will always wish that you and Doodle were here to be big cousins to Logan.  Seeing him grow through ultrasounds and hear his heartbeat at appointments is the most amazing thing; how I long that your stories had been ones of such happiness and joy.

As you spend your due date in heaven, I pray your Grandma is holding you tight.  I love you my sweet second baby.  I'll hold you in my heart always.

Love
Mommy

It's Changed Who You Are

A few nights ago I had one of the ugliest cries I've had in a long time.  A whole rush of emotions hit at once and it wasn't pretty.  The worst part of the night was hearing these words out of Keith's mouth, "It's changed who you are."

It's the nagging realization that sits in the back of your head, but to hear it out loud cuts deep.  He doesn't realize the sting behind his words.  Honestly he doesn't understand a quarter of what I'm feeling.  He tries, but it's just not possible.

The last few months have been hard.  There were so many highs: getting insurance for IVF, having a friend offer us a HUGE gift, having financial pieces fall into place.  But those moments were quickly followed by a huge low: our consultation where the true risks of my egg retrieval were revealed.

IVF was always where I kept my hope.  All hope wasn't lost as long as we had that card to play.  But now we don't.  And yes, there are still other cards we could play: egg adoption, embryo adoption, child adoption, but my heart isn't there.  Somehow that makes me feel like I'm giving up and selfishly guarding my heart.  In all honesty, I can't handle much more.

The hard truth is it has changed me.  I hate leaving the house.  If I could, I would stay home constantly.  There aren't baby clothes and pregnant women at home.  There aren't acquaintances that ask about starting a family when I'm home.  I get anxious about totally simple things.  I've distanced myself from the people I love.  I'd rather sleep or watch Netflix than do anything else. 

Keith recently commented that he's bored with our routine.  My response was, "This is it.  We won't have kid functions and all those normal things families do.  So this is it." 

I went to a funeral this week of a dear friend.  Her obituary talked about her huge family.  The woman had 22 great grandchildren.  Mine will be short....there won't be a long list of children, grandchildren or great grandchildren.  There was a huge realization that I'll never fit in with my peers, not now are they're becoming parents or later as their kids give them grandchildren. 

So yes this journey has changed me.  It's robbed me of my hopes and dreams.  It's brought out emotions that scare me.  It's broken my heart to begin to accept I'll only hold my babies in heaven.  I know with time it will get better.....I'm just not there yet.

Loss #2

I lost another baby today.  We lost another child today.  This time it was earlier.  This time my body naturally started the process.  This time it hurts, but it's a different kind of hurt, but yet still the same. 

There is no ultrasound picture this time.  Some say it's even too early to be called a miscarriage.  But still there is a loss and a new hole in my heart. 

I hate my body.  I hate the way I feel physically, emotionally and mentally.  I hate that I inconvenienced the people who had to sweep in again and pick me up off the floor. 

I called this little one Nugget.  We fought over names.  We browsed nursery fabrics.  I bought a chalkboard for monthly pictures.  I dared to dream that this time would be different. 

Maybe I shouldn't have shopped on Saturday.  Maybe I shouldn't have mowed grass on Monday.  Maybe I shouldn't have tried yoga poses to increase blood flow.  Maybe I rolled on my back too long in my sleep. 

I called the doctor's office, but I still have no idea what that nurse said.  I remember her confirming that my numbers dropped significantly, but the rest is a blur.  I don't know how I drove home.  I don't know what I'd do without the crew that swept in to pick up the pieces. 

My heart hurts.  I want my baby back.  I don't know why I'm here again. Why did I put myself through this again? 

Stuck

I feel like I'm stuck.  I have no idea what to do next.  I don't know if there is a next.

My mind has flipped several times to the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.   I've lived 2 years in denial that we could ever be here.  Anger and jealousy have reared their ugly head more than I'd like to admit.  Bargaining is a constant part of the game..... Just one more try. Please God I'll do anything.  And good ole depression is a no brainer.  Infertility has gotten so many of my tears; second only to losing my Mom.   So when does acceptance come? Or should I say, "does acceptance come?" 

Day 1 no longer means calls to the RE.  There are unused tests under my bathroom sink.   There's the "other bedroom", the lists of baby names, the unworn maternity clothes, and the baby items cocky me bought.  There's so much left unsettled.  There's an emptiness and an elephant in the room that grows bigger all the time.

Yesterday at a conference, an acquaintance asked, "Now you have one or two babies now?"  Ouch.  Does the sting of those conversations ever go away?

To this point, I've felt like we're at least doing something.  Waiting, testing, medicating, monitoring, trying.... Now we're stuck.  I don't even know what cycle day it is (OK that's a lie....) but I sincerely wish I didn't know. 

What now? 

The End (I Think...)

Today marks the end of our journey.  I had my final RE appointment and we're now out of options unless we decide to pursue IVF. 

We sat with hippie Santa Claus and went through our entire case file and basically with my age, labs and conditions, we're just not going to conceive "the old fashioned way."  I know God isn't phased by any of these numbers, and I'll keep praying for a miracle, but I also know that prayers are often answered with a "no." 

I'm slowly processing how I feel about it all.   Devastated is the easiest to identify.  Anger and jealousy.  Overwhelmed.  Unsure and confused.  There's even an ounce of relief that the meds, tests and appointments are over.

Keith is all about trying IVF.  He's the dreamer and free spirit in our marriage.  He doesn't worry about the $15-20k price tag.  He says I'll regret it if we don't try it.  I'm convinced it will leave us in debt with empty arms either due to failure or another loss.  

I really just want to make a public service announcement that we're never having children so everyone knows and the questions and comments will stop.  That just seems so permanent though.

So realistically, it's not the end.  It's another crossroads and more emotions, but today, in my mind it's the end.  Maybe tomorrow will feel different.  Sigh. 

IUI Fail #2

Cruel timing, but today confirmed this last IUI was a bust.   I'll call the doctor tomorrow morning.  Part of me wants to skip this month because of our upcoming vacation, but somehow that makes me feel guilty.   Plus we'll probably be forced to skip the following month because of vacation timing.  Who knows!?   :(

My Least Favorite Day of the Year

When your Mom and Baby are in heaven, Mother's Day isn't exactly a day that you're super excited for.   I've done my best to keep busy and celebrate the wonderful women I do have in my life, but then I made the mistake of checking the mail. 

Don't get me wrong, the thought behind this is wonderful and thoughtful, but delivering the invitation on Mother's Day weekend was more than I was prepared for.   We'll be at the beach for the event; otherwise, we might consider going. 

As usual, there's no real point of this post.   Just a feelings dump more than anything else.   Maybe Mother's Day next year will be a little happier. 

Earth Has No Sorrow That Heaven Can't Heal

Come out of sadness
From wherever you’ve been
Come broken hearted
Let rescue begin
Come find your mercy
Oh sinner come kneel
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t heal
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t heal
-Crowder

I've been singing/humming this song all day.  I need reminded that one day all the tears and pain will be gone.  My Mom and our Doodle are in heaven; one day I'll see them again.

Today has been bittersweet.  The people who mean the world to me, put me together a book of letters.  Each one reflected so much about them individually and each one helped heal my heart.  How blessed am I to have these people in my life. 

March 29th will always be a day that's etched in my mind and heart.  Happy Due Date Doodle.  Mommy will always love you. 

Failure

Endometrium was 7.3.

Left side 16.4

Right side 21 and 15.3

IUI is canceled.  Needless to say, feeling totally defeated.  Unicornuate Uterus I hate you! 

Struggling

I started to write a post on all the things I'm thankful for (and there are so many), but my heart is just not in it tonight.   I'm struggling. 

I am done with progesterone in 2 days and then CD1 will be here, again.   Realistically the next cycle on my left will be around my 33rd birthday, one year older for me and my eggs.  

When do we throw in the towel?  When do we say enough is enough?  When does this feeling of constant anxiety stop? 

At lunch today, I learned about an old classmate who just became a "dad" for the 4th time.... he doesn't provide for the first three and the fourth was born addicted to heroin.  Oh my heart and my brain just can't make sense out of that one. 

How do I drag myself out of this funk? How do I focus on the things I'm thankful for again?  How do I decide what to do next?  How do I make this hurt and anxiety go away? 

Worry

I'm a worrier.  The Bible is full of verses telling us not to worry.  The internet is full of quotes giving us advice on not worrying.  Yet, I worry. 

I truly believe in my heart that everything is in God's hands, but I just can't turn off the worrying.  Huge hypocrite, maybe, but I'm working on it.

What if this is another failed cycle?   What if the new meds make me sick/mean/crazy?   What if I'm pregnant and it ends in another miscarriage?  What if I make it past miscarriage and my Unicornuate Uterus leads to premature labor/still birth? 

The innocence is gone.  I know too much.  I'm worried.   But, buried deep, I know that the answer to all the "What ifs" is we'll make it through.  We'll be devastated and cry.  A. LOT.  I'm worried about feeling that sad again.  I'm worried because I know there is a lower low than we've already been. 

I've got to find some optimism.  I've got to cling to my faith and have hope.  It's so hard. 

When Your Mom Goes to Heaven

My friend's Mom died yesterday.  Just typing those words makes me tear up.   I know the heart ache and I know the pain.  Sometimes I wish someone had warned me what to expect and told me how to make it through.   Sometimes I'm thankful they didn't.  

If I could tell her anything, it might go something like this.

Dear friend,

Welcome to the club that you never wanted to join.  The club that you don't truly understand until you're one of us and the club you wouldn't invite even your worst enemy to join.

Here we know a pain so deep it squeezes your heart and takes your breath.  You will question multiple times if it might kill you, it won't.   You will cry and wonder if there is ever going to be an end to the tears, there will.

Here we feel like we're on the world's fastest and longest roller coaster of emotions that will never end, but it does slow down.   You'll want to scream at the top of your lungs, "Don't you know my Mom is dead?" and hate everyone for living in normalcy, so scream if you want.

You'll pick up the phone to call her.  You'll listen to her voicemail message.  You'll cry because you don't know her meatloaf recipe.  You'll develop a deep hate for Mother's Day commercials.   You'll miss the things she did that drove you nuts, more than anything else.  

You will hear people say some of the dumbest things, but remember they're just trying to help (trust me, this is so hard.)  You will also see the good in people as they love and support you, let them help.

I know you're in a complete fog right now and it feels like it will never end.   As time passes, you'll realize that God and love are the only things that kept you upright during these days.  I won't tell you time heals all wounds, because it doesn't.  You'll cry less with time, but there will always be a hole in your heart.   It does get easier to breathe, and I promise that you will learn to smile at the memories that now only bring you tears.

You will make it through this hell.  I remember people telling me that and I thought, "Well obviously they didn't love and need their Mom as much as I do," but they did love them, they were just farther along in healing.   Speaking of healing, don't even read the stages of grief, you'll heal how you are meant to heal and if that involves meds, counselors or whatever else you need, do it.  

I promise I'm here to help you in any way possible.  I'll tell you every crazy meltdown I had (Walmart Spice aisle was a favorite), I'll teach you how to "therapy cook" for a small army, and most importantly I'll sit and cry with you, because you need to get it out.  

I'm sorry your world is shattered right now.  I'm sorry you won't see your Mom again until Heaven.  I'm sorry there aren't better words than, "I'm sorry."  But know you're loved and we'll get you through this. 

I know you can't see it now, but one day you will be able to help someone else through a time like this.  One day you'll realize you survived and that your Mom would want you to smile again.  It's all part of being in the club....

With love,
Misses My Mommy Too

The Calm After The Storm

It's been almost a month since the day my heart shattered.  The day we found out that the little heart beat of the baby we had hoped, prayed and fought so hard for, was no longer there. 

The days and weeks that followed were the hardest we've faced in our marriage.  I flip flopped through the stages of grief and found myself lost and inconsolable.

Feeling like we'd finally beat infertility and having hope for a successful pregnancy was quickly and painfully taken away.  I thought the storm would never stop.  I thought the tears and tightness in my chest would never stop. 

Today is different.  I'm finally able to think of the next steps.  I no longer refuse the idea of trying again.  I'm anxious for my cycle to start and my 12 week bloodwork to be scheduled so we know what to do next.  I'm still nervous to start over with the drugs,  scans and all the unknowns of fertility treatments, but it's part of our journey. 

This calm doesn't mean I'm over losing our baby.  That will never be the case.  I still look at my calendar and think that we should be announcing our pregnancy this week.  I still think that I'd be graduating from the first trimester.  I still think of my Mom in heaven rocking the little one who we will meet some day.  It still hurts but the storms are calming.

I am still praying that God will give us a healthy baby.  I'm still asking that He will comfort us and help us have the strength and guidance for the road ahead.  I'm praying that the worst of the storms have passed and we'll remember to praise Him in the calm. 

Eating My Words

Several years ago, I was reading a blog and remember commenting (verbally) that I wish the girl would "just move on and focus on something else."  She had suffered a miscarriage and was still writing about it months later.   I'd love to take back those words.  I hate that I was ever so cold. 

Now, here I am.  I'm stuck.  I'm dwelling.  I'm broken.   I know so many people are thinking "just move on and focus on something else," but I just can't.  It hurts so bad sometimes that it is hard to breathe.  I feel like I'm the only one still devastated.  I'm mad because certain people have just ignored it all completely.  I'm thankful for the ones who genuinely have been there.  I'm ashamed of not being there more for people that have been in my shoes.  I'm so many things that I could write all day.  I just want the pain to stop. 

When my Mom died,  we all hurt.  We all cried and healed together.  No one else is empty and crying at night... It's isolating and so hard.  

I feel ashamed of my inability to do what my body is supposed to do.  I feel like I've let people down,  let my baby down.   Today has been a huge struggle.  I think my appointment tomorrow and a pregnancy announcement at work just did me in today.  Tomorrow will be better....

Jealousy

Right now I'm really struggling with jealousy and bitterness.   As the "safe zone" approaches for March babies, more and more pregnancy announcements are popping up.  I want so bad to be happy for these people,  but all I feel is jealous.

I hate feeling this way,  let alone admitting it,  but each post, picture or event just reminds me of Doodle.   Seeing posts on heartbeats gets me the most....makes the horrible words "there's no heartbeat" scream through my mind all over again.

One Facebook friend posted/bragged last night about conceiving on the first try.  (Please forgive me while I make obscene gestures.)  Deep down I'm happy for them..... deep deep deep deep down. Deep.

On a brighter note,  the high dose antibiotics they gave me have finally alleviated the stomach pains.   I'm still curious where the infection was.   We'll find out tomorrow if my hormones have changed/reset.   My pregnancy symptoms have definitely lessened so I'll take that as a good sign.

For now, I just keep taking it day by day (what's the other option?) and accept that some days are going to be harder than others.   I know eventually it won't hurt as bad.....

Ouch

On Wednesday, we attended the funeral of a dear friend and amazing lady, Elodia.  I've blogged about her before (can't link things from this darn phone), but basically,  she's our best man's wife and the mother of 2.  The whole service was beautiful and heart wrenching and she'll be so missed.   My heart breaks for them.   We plan to love on them regularly and care for them like so many people did for us when we lost Mom. 

There's the background.  The services were over,  we were joining everyone at the church and then it happened.   An old football buddy from Keith's younger days so casually and innocently asked "Do you guys have kids?"  20 seconds after meeting the man,  and he shot me straight in the heart.   Keith turned around quickly with a deer in the headlights look and I quietly answered,  "Keith has a son.  I have a stepson.  His name is Perry."  The boys continued to talk about their lives.  I bit my lip and silently thanked God for sunglasses. 

Please don't think I'm making light of our friend dying and the heart ache of all who loved her.   I'm just simply coping with the loss of our friend and our baby.   The loss of a future of answering people happily, that "yes we have 2 children." 

More and more I question what innocent questions I've asked people over the years that have caused them pain (I'm sorry).  I definitely think more before I speak (and still say stupid things).  As I reminded our widower friend, people mean no harm with their words, but sheesh sometimes they just hurt!

Running Away

This weekend we ran away from our lives.  We packed a bag and my husband booked us a room in a historic hotel an hour out of town.  I'll forever be thankful for the masterminds behind this great idea. 

Saturday we did some shopping in antique stores, Christmas shops and other craft stores.   I completely melted down over Raggedy Ann dolls and Amish baby furniture.   One minute you're looking at Christmas decor and the next minute, BAM baby stuff. 

We had a nice lunch at a quaint Italian place and then checked into our room to relax.   We rocking chair rocked,  Keith swam (I'm not allowed in water for 2 weeks) and we got dressed up for dinner.  We had a nice meal on the veranda and called it a night. 

Sunday we played some checkers and had breakfast and quickly realized we weren't feeling great.   We spent the majority of the rest of the day battling mild food poisoning.  Apparently sharing my crab cakes wasn't such a sweet idea ooops.

My favorite part of the weekend was dancing with Keith in our hotel room (I used to gag at mushy stuff like this lol).  There was a wedding below us so we took advantage of the thin insulation and danced to their music.   I can't explain why but in those minutes I knew we'd be OK.   I love him now more than ever. 

So now we're back to reality.  Back to work and life,  but at least we got a little break.   I still lose my breath sometimes because it hurts so bad.   I'd run away again at the drop of a hat, but that isn't an option so we keep moving forward.   Slowly.  Very slowly.