Jumping Back on the Horse...Back in the Saddle...er...

I first want to apologize to the handful of you that reached out to me via email over the last 35-ish months to find out, off of which part of the earth I had fallen. I also deeply apologize to the 3-4 of you that reached out to me to discuss similar medical conditions and I just never responded.

ACKHE What a bitch I am, right.

Although I take solace in the fact that hopefully, no one really takes their medical advice from a blog, right?

Probably a better fit for someone with an M.D. behind their name. Something I do not have. (Attempting to justify my incompetence...)

In the last 35 months, I've checked into blogs I followed - on rare occasion. Watched a few of the bloggers I follow have babies, (YAY!) I've watched a few of their babies grow into little thinking and feeling people.

I've weeped with a few of you over various heart aches. But blogging about anything I was doing was about as appealing as cleaning the refrigerator in the break room at work.

Have you ever had an issue at work, or with a family member, with friends, or perhaps a financial issue - where you couldn't really put your finger on why you wanted to avoid that issue, but you felt like rather running up Mt. Everest that to face it?

I stopped blogging because as I became deeper entrenched in all the aspects of blogging, I frankly was really put off by the culture of mommy bloggers.

Some of these bloggers are sweet, and kind, and loving. I imagine the quintessential intuitive and sensitive care-giving that helps to foster well adjusted children.

But - Damn! Other mommy bloggers - DAMN! What a bunch of attention-seeking, high strung, (at least I envision them to be -) really terrible people!

I realized that I was getting sucked into the culture of "me, me, me."

Caring too much about blog traffic and the number of comments.
BLECH.
All of that non-sense is not why I started blogging.
I don't freaking care about free stuff, either.
Really.
I don't.
If I wanted free stuff, I would stand out on a busy street corner with a sign that said, "Hi. I want free stuff." And I'm sure I would get even more free crap than I could ever get by blogging about my truest, deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings.
The reality is, I am not a pan-handler.

I also realized that because I was getting so caught up in the culture of mommy bloggers, and the desire for more traffic, that I was censoring myself more and more and really loosing the "ME" part about my blog.

Who wants to sell-out like that, in an anonymous blog?! Stupid.

I've debated for months about whether to pull down my blog entirely. I had many emotions about everything and took my time exploring them. I think that because I really poured so many of my deepest thoughts and feelings into many posts, on one hand - I was really attached to many components of this blog.

I debated perhaps taking screen shots and printing them out so that I could reflect back on them as the years go by. But nothing ever seemed like the right thing to do. And I never felt like blogging about any of it. I just wanted to run up Mt. Everest, away from my blog.

It was also amazingly difficult because while we weren't actually TTC, it was like I was constantly having to face that fact.

And sometimes, man, you just have to stick your head in the sand to survive.

The truth is. I don't care what people think. I don't care if you agree with me. I don't care if you disagree with me and think my pompous-liberal-ways are the catalyst to post-apocalyptic-anarchy.

I am writing this blog to reflect for myself. So, I suppose that in this way, I really do fit in with the culture of mommy bloggers. This blog is all about ME.

Although, I suppose that in itself it is not entirely true. I do hope that others read this, and for those who sympathize, realize that they are not alone.

If you choose to check-in with my blog from time to time. Be prepared for Uncensored Suzanne. She is very political. (I never mentioned it, but Andrew and I actually met on a Political Campaign. Oh yeah, we can Identify, Persuade and GOTV your ass before you even know what hit you.) Also, his name is really Josh. And we're married now. And he's never had any trouble figuring out where to park his car since. :)

I don't like calling him Andrew anymore here, because I have developed quite an affection for his real name over the years and nothing else quite rolls over the tongue or through my heart like "Josh" does.

Also, you should know I take Parenting and Child Development very seriously.
Both my Bachelors and a Masters Degree in Child Development. So please, don't bother to spout philosophy's and techniques unless you are prepared to back them up with evidence from a peer-reviewed and respected journal(s). However, if you bring that knowledge with you - I would LOVE to hear what you have to say. :) I also have a significant background in Autism and ABA therapy as well as Special Education. Just FYI.

Personal experience certainly counts for something, but as I always say,
"Every child is different. What works for one child, and therefore what those parents swear by, may not necessarily work for another child. You have to identify whether you're talking about the best scenario for a group of children, or the best scenario for an individual child. The former dictates taking a look at research, the latter may benefit from either research or anecdotal evidence."

Incompetent:
1: not legally qualified

2: inadequate to or unsuitable for a particular purpose

3

a : lacking the qualities needed for effective action

b : unable to function properly

Commitment or Self Preservation

The next morning (Friday) I took off from work and called my doctor first thing, they ran my BETA and Progesterone and I got the results back the next day.

The BETA was somewhat low for being in the 5 weeks pregnant but it was within the normal "range" and Progesterone was good. I was pregnant!

Driving home from work I felt good. I felt happy. I felt like each breath had a fucking purpose.

However, I knew that things could go wrong, so I wondered outloud whether I should "commit" to this baby. Should I think of it as a baby? Or should I not let myself get attached?

I decided, that like most things in life "Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all."

When I got home, I told my husband, and he smiled.
That man, I swear - he is the reincarnation of everything good and pleasant in the world.

I then told him that the baby and I listened to music driving home. We ate Mexican food for dinner (yummy!) and then my husband went out with some friends.

This was a welcomed rest night for me as my very demanding job leaves my completely drained on Friday night's.

All I want to do is nothing. However, I did slightly more than nothing that night and rented a movie, got comfy on the couch around our cuddly puppies (they're dogs really - 11 years old and 2 1/2, but I still call them puppies)

...and me and the baby, well we just hung out together.

I think I will always remember that night on the sofa being happy and content and pregnant.

The next day was great too. Josh and I talked and connected like we haven't in a while. We went out to a park.

The day was absolutely beautiful - soul clearing.

We talked about some hopes and dreams, and about our baby who would be due the beginning of January. We talked about the possibility of a Christmas baby.

We were happy.

Commitment:

1

a : an agreement or pledge to do something in the future

b : something pledged

c : the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled

Shock and Awe

I found out I was pregnant a week ago Wednesday night. Could barely believe it. Was certainly in shock.

My suspicion had been growing for over a week and a half. My cycles are anywhere from 36-45 days at this point in my life and that makes figuring out "expected" timing difficult.

I'd had what I thought was my usual period the Sunday before, but then - suddenly - it stopped. WHAT?! Although that would have been right "on time" for my period, and despite all my crazy pituitary issues and PCOS crap, I'd never had a "period" suddenly stop.

Oh man.
What if that wasn't a period?! My mind kept stumbling...

If we'd conceived it would have been around the time of April 14th, and would have been with 100% accuracy, as it was the first month we had officially been trying and we only got in one attempt.

I was finally under the care of a competent and kind Reproductive Endocrinologist (she happened to be the third pre-conception visit we'd scheduled after we'd gotten married this last November). However she was far and away superior to the rest and I felt we were in very good hands.

I didn't test before last Wednesday, you see, because my cheapo 0.33 cent test strips had not arrived from Amazon yet, and you know, we just couldn't have possibly gotten pregnant the first month we were trying.

Not with all of my issues, you know.  
That would be crazy.

But last week, I sat in this very spot on this couch and told my husband, that I just thought I was, and he offered to go to the drug store and buy a "real" test.

He bought one.
I would have bought 30.
But he bought one.

And I went into the bathroom with a disposable cup.

I dipped that stick and  it immediately (before I could get my pants back on and hands washed) turned into a plus sign.

A Positive Pregnancy Test. The first month we tried.

Score.

I said, "Um honey. Can you come look at this?"

He did. Very tentatively. Wide eyed and innocent looking.

We stood over the bathroom counter staring at it just lying flat there on the counter.

"What does that look like to you?" I said.
"Positive." He said.

And then we both just sort of stared at it and laughed nervously to ourselves.

He held me so gently and lovingly. So tender and thoughtful.

Don't get me wrong, I would be lying to say we weren't scared. I definitely felt a little bit like, "What the hell did we just do?"

I also felt a little guilty about telling my sweet husband for all of these years that I'm probably going to have trouble getting pregnant

...and there we were pregnant right out of the gate.

What luck!


Shock:
 1
a : a disturbance in the equilibrium or permanence of something

Awe:

1

a : an emotion variously combining dread, respect, reverence, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime

Scared.

I'm feeling a lot of emotions right now.

Mostly fear.

I went though my involuntary sobbing stage the last couple days. The gut wrenching. gasping for air. wailing. that occurs when you just have no control over your emotions.

I've heard it referred to as "the ugly crying" before.

Even though I have been thinking about blogging again for some time, I couldn't bring myself to write until now.

At this point I am mostly just scared. I think being scared pushed me mostly into wanting to have a outlet again. Wanting to be able to share and communicate with people who, as they say in Texas (where we now live) "This ain't my first rodeo."

Quick thoughts on my blog this time around:
A truly honest outlet.
No holds barred.
Take no prisoners.
And this time around, I truly don't care what anyone thinks of me.
This is for myself.
This is for me, and my husband, and our future child(ren).
I need an outlet, man.
I don't know how long this will take.
I turned 30 a couple weeks ago ...little did I know I was pregnant then! :)
It might be 10 fucking years until I get to be a mother but damn-it it's going to happen.

My Doctor just called to tell me that my BETA has dropped to 250 and I should  pretty much be expecting the miscarriage anytime now.

After my appointment yesterday when it was fairly clear that I would miscarry...

(boy what phrasing, huh?! Let's fucking shoot whoever came up with that shit. "I would miscarry." I guess I could say, "I would have a miscarriage." 

Talk about blaming language. 

I want to have no part in this miscarriage. 

I want none of it. 

I want a do-over.

I want a time machine.

I want to go back and un-do whatever went wrong and make it right. 
make it work. 
make it okay.
make my heart not hurt anymore.
make that embryo/product of conception - whatever the hell you want to call it - not die.
I want to make my baby not die).

...I researched the crap out of miscarriage. "What to expect" and "How to prepare emotionally" and let me tell you, those stories I read - each personal tragedy, is the stuff that horror is made from.

Based on my highest hCG number, 388, I'm guessing I made it to around 4-5 weeks before the embryo/our baby, stopped growing. So I'm preparing myself for what my Doctor described as a "heavier than normal period."

But I'm scared.

It's a weird feeling to be waiting for that.

Ya know, be waiting to have a miscarriage.

In my research I read that pads are better to use than tampons because of the risk of infection, but so far I have yet been to be able to drive to the store and buy them.

I told myself on the way home from work today that I would buy them.

But for some reason, my car just drove by all the stores on the way home and didn't stop at a single one.

The same thing happened after I walked the dogs tonight, I was going to go to the store and buy some.

But here I am sitting on the couch with not a store in sight.

Strange.

Denial, perhaps?

A similar thing happened when I wanted to ask my doctor about pain relievers, "What should I take for any pain?" But the words could not find their way out.

I almost feel like I have to, I don't know, suffer through it?
Sounds strange to say, but I think that's where my twisted mind is at right now.

Some sort of guilt that I cannot exactly pin point was blocking the words from coming out of my mouth.

I feel mad.
ashamed.
guilty.
sad.
depressed.
sick.
hurt.
embarrassed.

I am scared of this impending, inescapable experience. 

I want to be like those people who get a positive pregnancy test and they get to immediately call their families and friends because you know, they're pregnant! Ta da! And that's that. And nothing ever goes wrong.

And they go through their whole pregnancy happy and content because everything's fine. duh!

...And they're never the wiser. 

Fear:
1

a : an unpleasant often strong emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.

b (1) : an instance of this emotion (2) : a state marked by this emotion 

2

a : anxious concern

Hate Comes From Agony and Grief

"Congratulations!" she said as I was walking out the door.

In that split second afterwards, I pictured myself literally clawing her face with my finger nails. Maybe not enough to bleed. ...ok let me be honest, in that split second I wanted that bitch to die.

In that split second, I wanted her to feel the pain I felt. Some sort of twisted primal instinct of agony and grief gave me the brief desire to dream about inflicting what I felt emotionally on her physically. 

I also had the instinct to yell at her, "LISTEN TO ME YOU IGNORANT #$%&. Just because someone comes in with a hCG BETA blood work order on their lab sheet does not mean they have a healthy happy baby in their uterus. This does not fucking mean that they are over the moon, call the future grandparents, go out and fucking buy cute tiny little newborn onesies - happy. No! In the future you would be wise to SHUT THE FUCK UP as to not make the patient in front of you feel like dying, EVEN FUCKING MORE THAN SHE ALREADY DOES. Now come here - I want to claw your fucking face slightly more because I. hate. you."

But in that split second afterwards (feeling relatively emotional stable despite my morbid fantasy's), I said and did the socially appropriate thing. the thing you "do" when in polite company, I simply said, "thanks." avoided eye contact. and slunk out the door.

On the way down the stairs back to my car I reflected on my reaction. Part of me thought the responsible thing to do from a humanitarian perspective would be to go back and politely tell her why she shouldn't congratulate people when she draws their blood for hCG BETA testing. (Ya know, to spare the next woman sitting in front of her who may be in a similar situation). However, I'd just found out the day before that our precious tiny little baby was not viable, had likely died,  (I don't know which wording I am most comfortable with at this point) and I was about to miscarry. And I honestly, I just didn't have it in me to do the globally responsible thing in that moment.

We, (myself, my doctor, and my husband) are now hoping for the "best" and at this point. After only 7 days of knowing I was/am? pregnant, that means we are hoping that this blood draw will show my hCG numbers dropping.


Agony:

1 

a : intense pain of mind or body : anguish, torture

b : the struggle that precedes death

2 

a : a violent struggle or contest

Grief:
1

a : deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement

b : a cause of such suffering

2

a : an unfortunate outcome 

Hate:

1

a : intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury

b : extreme dislike or antipathy