Miscarriage is a terrible thing. It doesn't respect your hopes and dreams. It doesn't respect your right to grieve.
Even if you're very open about your miscarriage, which I have been, there is no space for your grief in our society. My friends and family have been enormously supportive, and they have and will continue to hold me up, but it's still never going to be enough.
You see, our fetus, who never stood a chance at becoming a baby scientifically speaking, had two possible names. A due date. A nursery theme. A mother and a father and a big brother. A whole life to live.
Just because I know intellectually that with no heartbeat, this fetus would never amount to more than a tiny cluster of tissue and a few weeks of mild morning sickness and food cravings, that doesn't change the fact that, for one month, I was pregnant. I dreamed about my baby, made plans for him or her. Prayed for him or her to grow big and strong and become a beloved child of God. I bought maternity clothes and fantasized about getting round. I thought about purchasing a new breast pump through insurance, and whether or not we should spend money doing at 12 week NT scan, since it wasn't covered on our insurance. I started to plan my maternity leave and who would be my long-term substitute.
Now, I'm bleeding. I know it's the end. There is no more hope for those dreams.
What do I have to show for it? 10 pounds and a heart full of grief.
How do I get to say goodbye? By disposing of my dreams, one way or another. Take your pick: The baby and all of that hope will likely either be flushed down a toilet or thrown in the trash, waded up in a sanitary napkin. I likely won't even know when to say goodbye.
That is miscarriage.
Showing posts with label moral dilemmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moral dilemmas. Show all posts
Monday, September 29, 2014
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
An email and a response
A colleague sent an email to our small group of teachers who specialize in the same subject recently that ruined my day:
Then this today:
"Just wanted to let everyone in on my week…[We] found out that we are pregnant with #3 this week. :)We had a blood test done on Wednesday because we have NO clue how far along I am, and turns out I am anywhere from 8 to 14 weeks.So…we have a sonogram on Monday to find out for sure. I will keep you all posted.TGIF.Best regards,[Fertile Be-otch]"
Then this today:
"Well, turns out I am 15 weeks along as of today, [our daughter]’s 1st birthday.
The baby has little man parts and we couldn’t/can’t pick our jaws up off the ground. There is a whole kid in my stomach that I didn’t even know about for the past 15 weeks. I’m amazed and shocked and really excited. ☺
Just thought you guys would want to know the update!Best regards,[Fertile Be-otch]"
I couldn't send the response I wanted, so I settled for nothing. If I was a brave, bridge-burning bitch, here's what I would have said:
NO! I do NOT want to know the update. I do NOT want to hear about how you are so fertile that you could conceive clearly without trying less than a year after giving birth to your second child. In the time that you have been knocked up not once, but twice, my husband and I have suffered through one miscarriage, one failed cycle of IVF, and one testicular surgery. I don't think it is cute or funny or kind for you to share. I want to punch you in the uterus, if you must know. Yup, that's about it.Best regards,Wiselady
Sunday, November 20, 2011
A case for coming out
A lot of people struggling with infertility are reluctant to share their problems for one reason or another. Wisehubby himself is extremely private and initially had no interest in telling anyone. Luckily for me, he loves me a ton, and so he has grinned and bared it as I have told a whole network of people in real life and online about our trials.
Coming out about our infertility has been a blessing for me. I haven't told everyone, frankly, because it really isn't everyone's business. As need and occasion has arisen, I have shared my story. I refuse to lie when it isn't necessary.
At work, I consider it necessary to keep this part of my life mostly private. I have shared our struggles in general terms with my boss, simply so that she knew that I wasn't ditching work for fun. During my IVF cycle, I told people who asked at work that I had a gynecological procedure. That stopped most of the questioning dead in its tracks. Since I work in a middle school, I do not feel it is appropriate for me to discuss my reproductive life with my colleagues; since I work with my husband, I owe him this privacy.
In general, I have told my friends when it has come up. When I had to explain why I may miss my tap recital at the city rec center, I admitted to a friend that I was going through IVF and had no clue about when my body would be ready for what. When another friend asked why she hadn't seen me smiling lately, I let her know that it was because we have been struggling with infertility.
I haven't regretted coming out to a single person, not even the friend who once told me that she thought it was unethical to pay for fertility treatments when you could adopt a child (side note: UGH! that's not fair at all). She was sensitive and supportive. She may or may not change her feelings about fertility treatments, but she knows now to lay off of the topic in my presence.
Instead of regret, I've really appreciated the huge support system that I have surrounding me. My friend from tap class came and spent an hour visiting with me on the day after my transfer, while I was on bed rest. My pastor has sent encouraging emails every few days. My mother-in-law has made dinners and given the best hugs. My dad called me a few nights ago to let me know how much he loves me. My mom has been fighting tooth and nail to make things right, even though she knows that she can't really fix anything. My sister has been beside herself trying to be sure that I'm doing ok. She even tried to pack up her toddler and drive an hour to see me on a week night last week--I stopped her. My closest male friend has known to be more supportive of Wisehubby. The list goes on, and on.
If you're dealing with infertility, you're going to have a really rocky road ahead of you. This road is going to be made worse because people don't know how to deal with it. People won't try to figure out how to be sensitive about infertility if you don't give them a heads up about needing extra TLC. You might as well let your friends and family know what is going on.
If people cause you to regret your decision of honesty, then you know that they were never worthy of your friendship. Probably, though, your friends always were good friends, and you'll be happy that they are on your side, armed with information.
Coming out about our infertility has been a blessing for me. I haven't told everyone, frankly, because it really isn't everyone's business. As need and occasion has arisen, I have shared my story. I refuse to lie when it isn't necessary.
At work, I consider it necessary to keep this part of my life mostly private. I have shared our struggles in general terms with my boss, simply so that she knew that I wasn't ditching work for fun. During my IVF cycle, I told people who asked at work that I had a gynecological procedure. That stopped most of the questioning dead in its tracks. Since I work in a middle school, I do not feel it is appropriate for me to discuss my reproductive life with my colleagues; since I work with my husband, I owe him this privacy.
In general, I have told my friends when it has come up. When I had to explain why I may miss my tap recital at the city rec center, I admitted to a friend that I was going through IVF and had no clue about when my body would be ready for what. When another friend asked why she hadn't seen me smiling lately, I let her know that it was because we have been struggling with infertility.
I haven't regretted coming out to a single person, not even the friend who once told me that she thought it was unethical to pay for fertility treatments when you could adopt a child (side note: UGH! that's not fair at all). She was sensitive and supportive. She may or may not change her feelings about fertility treatments, but she knows now to lay off of the topic in my presence.
Instead of regret, I've really appreciated the huge support system that I have surrounding me. My friend from tap class came and spent an hour visiting with me on the day after my transfer, while I was on bed rest. My pastor has sent encouraging emails every few days. My mother-in-law has made dinners and given the best hugs. My dad called me a few nights ago to let me know how much he loves me. My mom has been fighting tooth and nail to make things right, even though she knows that she can't really fix anything. My sister has been beside herself trying to be sure that I'm doing ok. She even tried to pack up her toddler and drive an hour to see me on a week night last week--I stopped her. My closest male friend has known to be more supportive of Wisehubby. The list goes on, and on.
If you're dealing with infertility, you're going to have a really rocky road ahead of you. This road is going to be made worse because people don't know how to deal with it. People won't try to figure out how to be sensitive about infertility if you don't give them a heads up about needing extra TLC. You might as well let your friends and family know what is going on.
If people cause you to regret your decision of honesty, then you know that they were never worthy of your friendship. Probably, though, your friends always were good friends, and you'll be happy that they are on your side, armed with information.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
How many to "put back"?
Today, on my way back from shopping for bigger pants--stress eating much?--with my mom, she asked if we had made a decision about how many babies to try for. This is a complicated, challenging, and hard decision to make.
Basically, when you're in my position--healthy, young, dealing with male factor infertility--you stand a fairly good chance of conceiving through IVF, about 60-70% depending on the RE and your quality of sperm sample. So, the recommendation for how many embryos to "put back"--this is a strange choice of terminology that seems to be consistent among the community (odd?)--is 1-2 embryos. There are some major advantages and draw backs to both.
If you "put back" one embryo, you have a smaller chance of a pregnancy. The embryo may not implant, and then you have got to go almost all of the way back to square one. This involves another round of surgery, unfreezing of embryos, and injectable meds to support the pregnancy. You also have to pay for another round of IVF, which is no small mountain to climb, especially for a pair of public school teachers. Texas Teacher Retirement Service (TRS) health insurance only will pay to diagnose infertility. Once you know that you can't have kids, it is your problem. IVF will cost us about $15,000 when it is all said and done, and it has to be paid up-front without a guarantee of success. Whew!
If you "put back" two embryos, you have a greater chance of pregnancy; you could even end up with two babies. However, the embryos may split, and then you could have not twins, but triplets or quadruplets. Multiple births come with an increased risk of complications for the pregnancy and NICU stays for the babies. (Un?)fortunately, health insurance pays for stays in the NICU and other complications associated with multiple births.
In Ontario, Canada, the government noticed the public health risk and cost associated with the rise in multiple births because of fertility treatments. They now subsidize IVF for women who agree to single embryo transfer. This kind of makes me want to move to Canada. They saw the moral dilemma that most couples pursuing IVF face, and removed the financial complication. Kudos!
Anyway, Wisehubby and I decided to go the two embryo route. We want a family, a big one, and we don't know if we can afford it another way. I'd like to give my children the best possible lives, but our hands are tied by the reality of living in a red state and working in the public sector. We love being teachers, so we have to consider that as a major part of our life and decision.
I applaud women who can face the risk and still just transfer one embryo. Unfortunately, it's not for me.
Basically, when you're in my position--healthy, young, dealing with male factor infertility--you stand a fairly good chance of conceiving through IVF, about 60-70% depending on the RE and your quality of sperm sample. So, the recommendation for how many embryos to "put back"--this is a strange choice of terminology that seems to be consistent among the community (odd?)--is 1-2 embryos. There are some major advantages and draw backs to both.
If you "put back" one embryo, you have a smaller chance of a pregnancy. The embryo may not implant, and then you have got to go almost all of the way back to square one. This involves another round of surgery, unfreezing of embryos, and injectable meds to support the pregnancy. You also have to pay for another round of IVF, which is no small mountain to climb, especially for a pair of public school teachers. Texas Teacher Retirement Service (TRS) health insurance only will pay to diagnose infertility. Once you know that you can't have kids, it is your problem. IVF will cost us about $15,000 when it is all said and done, and it has to be paid up-front without a guarantee of success. Whew!
If you "put back" two embryos, you have a greater chance of pregnancy; you could even end up with two babies. However, the embryos may split, and then you could have not twins, but triplets or quadruplets. Multiple births come with an increased risk of complications for the pregnancy and NICU stays for the babies. (Un?)fortunately, health insurance pays for stays in the NICU and other complications associated with multiple births.
In Ontario, Canada, the government noticed the public health risk and cost associated with the rise in multiple births because of fertility treatments. They now subsidize IVF for women who agree to single embryo transfer. This kind of makes me want to move to Canada. They saw the moral dilemma that most couples pursuing IVF face, and removed the financial complication. Kudos!
Anyway, Wisehubby and I decided to go the two embryo route. We want a family, a big one, and we don't know if we can afford it another way. I'd like to give my children the best possible lives, but our hands are tied by the reality of living in a red state and working in the public sector. We love being teachers, so we have to consider that as a major part of our life and decision.
I applaud women who can face the risk and still just transfer one embryo. Unfortunately, it's not for me.
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