Monday, 7 October 2013

Five weeks, four days and a whole new level of crazy

What was all that blissed out zen crap I said last week? Yeah, I'm pretty sure I lied.

This past weekend involved several mini breakdowns, a patiently handled 'emergency' telephone consult with the lovely Dr. B (whose assurances that all those cramps were 'good news if anything, evidence that your uterus is preparing in all the ways it should right now', were only partly comforting in a long series of moments when my body's mimetic ability to feign PMS symptoms really convinced me my next period was impending, those second lines really just another cruel joke), and nearly a full day of lying curled up in the fetal position, all mucous and red, raw skin and ugly crying.

I'm having nightmares and not managing to sleep very well some nights. And then freaking out because it occurs to me that my lack of proper rest and the overstimulation of my adrenal-cortical system is probably harming the fetus trying to grow.

And symptoms? Much as I've had quite a few, ill-conceived pause for thought don'tthinkdon'tthink! led me to wonder: what if I just dreamed all those too? Because, just as with every two week wait I've experienced until now, I want to feel pregnant and so I do? Because ya know, when your uterus has done such a spectacular job of not sustaining the life you created, it's hard to place even the teeniest amount of trust in your body or any of what it's experiencing.

This is the nasty progression of infertility schizophrenia to the nth degree.With the after-effects of recurrent loss thrown in just for measure. Because if some seriously bipolar tendencies weren't enough, I also have some major PTSD sensations around ultrasounds themselves. They're a huge grief trigger. I'm afraid that the healthy form of grieving that I've carefully, painfully built over the past years, all the ways in which I've managed to incorporate and honour my losses without allowing them to overtake me entirely, will all crumble should the u/s screen reveal what I dread it will: just deep, still blackness.

Ultrasounds are not harbingers of good news for us. We've been here, hoping and waiting, three times before. And three times those hopes have been dashed. And in each case the u/s machine was the instrument of torture delivering those blows. The ultrasound terrifies me.

On the one hand, I don't see how this could possibly end happily for us; it feels like that's something that happens for other people; the preserve of those blessed masses among whom I don't belong, but never for us. At the same time, there's a still-resentful and resilient part of me that's thinking: If it's happening for everyone else, don't we get one shot?

I'm not always this bad, every second. I have a lot of hope for this pregnancy to turn itself into the wonderful culmination of all that love and desire we've been nurturing for so long, in the absence of more practical acts of nurturing. The rapid succession of emotions on that crazy hopeterrorhope continuum does not make it easy though. 

I guess for now, I have to hang on to that resentful and resilient little voice which keeps me going. I always feel like when I reach that Fuck You place in my emotional arc, there's a lot of good momentum to pull me forward into a place of greater optimism and fight. (Though obviously, let's be honest: we all know that the real remedy for this particular malaise is just one, and that's to hear a happy, beating little heart next week.)

Also, as crazy and obnoxious as I know I sound right now, it helps just writing it out. Phew. Slightly better now. Yeah, let's go with that.


A special kind of crazy. Source

15 comments:

  1. Oh man. I'm so sorry to hear you're having such a hard time with things. It can't be easy to just trust that the right things are going to happen when everything has fallen apart before.

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  2. Oh Sadie, you don't sound crazy or obnoxious at all. You sound like a mama who desperately wants her baby to make it. I couldn't sleep last night (I'm in the thick of yet another two-week wait and am barely holding on), and all of a sudden I thought of you and said a prayer that your little baby will be strong and that this will be a healthy pregnancy all the way through. I believe in my heart that you will get good news at your first sonogram appointment next week. You are being very brave and courageous, and we are here cheering you on. Sending lots of love.

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  3. The waiting for the ultrasound is the hardest part! I will be hoping and sending you many good vibes that this will be your miracle baby! Everything you are feeling is normal, so just remember that when the thoughts get overwhelming. I am excited you only have to wait one more week!!

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  4. "On the one hand, I don't see how this could possibly end happily for us; it feels like that's something that happens for other people; the preserve of those blessed masses among whom I don't belong, but never for us" Oh man, do I know that feeling. Hang in there sweetie, one day at a time okay?

    V was our 4th pregnancy, and I was terrified over every twinge, every bleeding episode, terrified that every ultrasound would deliver that crushing blow. It's not easy. All you can do is survive it, and remember... nothing bad has happened yet. Each day is a triumph. Stay strong.

    Hoping so much for you.

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  5. OH Sadie. I get it. totally get it. i pray this pregnancy is the one for you that you get to bring home. The waiting never ends and never gets easier. big hugs girlie and wishes for time to pass swiftly.

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  6. Thinking of you. Glad writing is therapeutic. Hoping that you get good news next week and that beating little heart. Hugs!

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  7. Totally get it - of course you're all over the map. The objective reality of past loss is too present and close and it probably feels surreal to even be here again. The waiting is cruel and seemingly never ending but hoping so much for you that this is it and that, in the meantime, the writing is cathartic. I think I feared going to the bathroom - lest I see some sign of impending pregnancy loss - for a good 5 months before I finally convinced myself that things might just be fine. Here's hoping it's much sooner for you! Hugs and hope!

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  8. Two weeks behind you and 100% right where you are mentally. I was saying, "Yes, yes!" the whole way through this post. In fact, I'm not even going back to my clinic for eventual ultrasounds... I'm going to do outside monitoring partly because it's more convenient, but mostly because I can't bear to go there again and have a bad one. I just have such negative associations with their ultrasound machines and this one specific tech. So you're not crazy or annoying. All of this is totally normal.

    Wishing you all the best. I'm mentally holding your hand all the way through.

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  9. I totally get it. The first ultrasound we had with our fertility doctor had me in tears. It just brings so much back. One day at a time, as you said in another post - today you are pregnant, and that is amazing. I know how hard it can be to hold out hope. Thanks for your kind message holding the hope for me, so I'm holding yours for you, too! That's the amazing thing about all the people who have been through the same thing - we can hold the hope for each other!

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  10. This is such a tough and emotional place to be at. One day at a time, breathing in and out... somehow, the time will pass even if some days feels like eternity. Wishing so hard that this is your time, your take home baby. Sending many many hugs to ease the anxiety.

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  11. I can understand how you feel. The fear and anxiety must be overwhelming. Even me, I'm feeling doubts simply starting treatment again because of our losses. Sometimes doubt is a protective force. You are trying to prepare yourself for bad news in advance because of your past. Be kind to yourself. You found the courage to keep trying and moving forward. Anyhow, I hope I wasn't overly excited last week. I was just so surprised by the news! I went home from the office and said a prayer for you. Keep talking to that embryo! I'm sending you love and good energy. Thinking of you.

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  12. The waiting does not seem to stop... but take it one day at a time. And rejoice in the symptoms (I don't think you can possibly will them to exist).
    Still praying everything will be fine. And that you will see that little heartbeat.

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  13. The anxiety is totally understandable, given all you've been through. Sending you hope, peace, and strength to get through the days until you see that little flicker. I'm so hoping this is the one!

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  14. Of course, everything you're feeling is normal. You've been through a lot, and I can imagine it's hard to picture things turning out well. But they can. Time will pass, and that little baby will get stronger with each passing day. Thinking of you & hoping everything is perfect this time around!

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  15. Thank you, each of you, for taking these moments to hold my hand, make me feel less crazy, calm my fears, and summon my hope. I'm so grateful to have this space, and your presence, both of which are going a long way in making these early, scary days bearable. I truly feel like this little one has a might cheering section! Big hugs from me.

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