Friday, February 1, 2013

I wonder if I can actually do this.

A friend of mine recently went through and chronicled both of her pregnancies with her boys (and one loss) and compiled from the beginning to the end the major points of their "birth stories."  And reading through them I thought that was pretty neat.  I should do that.

But I hesitated...still do really, because I don't know if I can go DOWN that road yet of remember Elisa's pregnancy.  I mean it's not like I have forgotten it really.  It's imprinted in my mind vividly.  But to put it into words is like giving it a new sort of "life" or "reality" that, still, I'm not entirely ready to deal with.

So here goes. 


To give you a history into my mindset when I first found out I was pregnant with Elisa, you need to know that in July of 2007 and May of 2008 I had early miscarriages.  Before I would even hit 6 weeks, I would lose the baby.  In August of 2008, I had a laproscopy and hysteroscopy that determined I had stage 4 endometriosis and this had caused my early miscarriages.  My endocrinologist and reproductive specialist decided that with this history, it was important that I get pregnant quickly afterwards so suggested we use femara and hcg injections to cause ovulation on a predictable schedule.  We did this three times and that's where we start.

To be honest, I don't remember exact days.  I wasn't good at writing things down.  I knew with the regimen I was on, that I was to test 14 days after trigger if I hadn't started a new cycle.  Well, this day in May (I think it was May 4) was "test" day.  It was a Tuesday.  But I didn't feel pregnant.  Not like the last two times.  I had no symptoms whatsoever.  So I didn't test that morning, I just KNEW this cycle was a bust too.  Actually, I didn't test until that Thursday when I knew I had to call the office and start up the next round and they would ask me if I had.  So I did.

Imagine my complete and utter shock when that second line appeared.  My hands shook, my stomach dropped to my toes.  I thought I would puke.  You'd have thought I would have been elated.  Instead I was terrified.  Here's what we had been fighting for now for 2 years.  But I couldn't handle another miscarriage.  I just couldn't.

I called my husband at work.  He couldn't say much but I could just hear the joy in his voice as he responded with "oh cool!"  That's all he could say before he had to hang up.

We started immediately charting the HCG up...and up...and up.  Numbers did great and at 6 weeks, we got our first peak.  I went into that appointment terrified.  I just knew when I walked in, HE would be gone.

But there he was.  Right on target.  Right where he was supposed to be.  And still there.  I still don't think I believed it, really.  But at 8 weeks, we had another ultrasound and confirmed growth right on target and a good heart rate.  At 10 we heard the heartbeat over a doppler and I was officially "released" from the reproductive specialist to my OB.  12 weeks came and went....and I was still pregnant.  By this time, I'd felt comfortable enough to have a nickname for the pregnancy.  "Shrimp."  Because he looked like a shrimp in some of the pictures they would show of the different stages of pregnancy.  It just stuck.

At 15 weeks I finally lost the little bit of nausea I had and also had a bit of spotting.  Of course I was not in town at the time so couldn't get to my OB until the next week and I spent those days convincing myself he was ok.  A quick scan determined shrimp was fine and the spotting was just one of those things.  At 18 we had our anatomy scan.  Again, I went in terrified they would tell me he was gone.  But there he was.  Everything looked great.  But at the 15 week scan, the tech had noted she saw a malformation of my uterus and the 18 week confirmed it.  I was told I had a heart shaped uterus and that I was at risk for pre-term labor.  My OB said it was unlikely before 35 weeks but at that time they would begin watching me closely. 

I'd had a bad feeling about this pregnancy from the beginning.  I never could put a finger on it as to why.  I just knew something wasn't right with it.  I just knew in the end I wouldn't get my baby.  I just knew in the end I would be devastated again.  My instincts kept screaming it at me, but I kept pushing them back down, telling myself it was all because of the prior losses.  I finally went on some anti anxiety to keep things at bay.  Little did I know what was to come.

I'll have to stop here.  It's late and there is much, much more to this story.  Those of you who know me and have followed me for a while know just how much more there is lol! 

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