25wks 4days

Today K is 25+4wks pregnant, which is a significant point in this pregnancy for me, and I'll be very, very happy to move past this point. 25+4wks is the exact day when I gave birth to Myles. I am crossing my fingers, begging the universe, and hoping with all my might that these babies don't make such an early entrance into this world. I'm somewhat comfortable with the boys coming a few weeks early, but not any earlier than 34weeks! I do get the real possibility of them being born prematurely, particularly with twins, but I know that I just can't have two more micropreemies. And I definitely don't think I could survive the loss of another child. Tonight I will drink some wine with "my girls" and try not to think about it...

Bittersweet

A few weeks ago I listed the Chic.co Cortina Travel System + an extra base that we bought for Myles on Craigs.list. It was brand new and obviously hadn't been used. In fact the extra base was still in the box. Tonight I sold it for $285 to a nice young woman who was thrilled beyond belief to be getting such a great deal on the new system (retails for $400 at BRU). She's a nurse who's having her first baby in January and fortunately for her she's living in the ignorant blissful state. Although I'm glad it went to such a good home, I'm feeling sad that I sold it. I didn't plan to use it for the twins, so I know it had to go. But it was purchased for Myles and it makes me sad to let it go. I know that Myles didn't even get to sit in it, but it was still "his" nonetheless. I remember spending hours researching it and picking out the perfect system for him. Now it's someone else's and that's hard for me to take. On the one hand I'm happy to be able to use the money to buy something for the twins, but sad that I sold something that was Myles'. Simply put it's bittersweet.

Asha Update

I have been finding it quite difficult to post an update because I don't really know what to say. Asha is still very much with us. She's quite active for such a sick little kitty and her appetite seems to be steadily increasing. Asha has been enjoying exploring the yard on her harness and a leash. She eats grass (chemical free lawn) and sniffs around all over. It's so hard for me to think that my little girl is so sick, especially with her acting like normal. We feel so grateful to be able to continue to enjoy Asha's love and companionship and we will do so for as long as we can.

I had to take her to the local vet yesterday to have her IV line examined. The vet showed me how to clear the line and how to adjust the catheter if it gets bent up. We have to go back on Thursday for this line to be removed and a new one to be placed. We discussed the potential kidney trasnplant and went over the information from UW Vet hospital. It sounds like Asha would likely meet the criteria to be a transplant patient, but there's a long list of tests that need to be performed before a final decision can be made. The vet gave me a fax from the hospital that outlined the pre-op testing, success rates, life-long care necessary post-op (2x/day anti-rejection meds), potential complications, and the cost. The procedure costs between $10-15K when the surgery goes well and can cost more if there are complications, which was a huge shock to us because we read on-line that the costs for feline kidney transplant were around $5K.

I can't even bring myself to say it ... we can't afford to do the transplant at that cost. :( I feel sick saying that and feel like a terrible furbaby parent. I love Asha so much and would do anything to save her as evidenced by all that we've been doing for the past 14 months, but the reality is that we don't have that kind of money at our disposal, especially given the debt we've accrued with IF and IVF. Asha is worth way more to both of us than the cost of the surgery--you can't put a monetary value love, which is why it's hard for me to say that we can't go forward with the transplant. So, we have no choice but to let our sweet little Asha succumb to CRF. The guilt that I'm feeling is overwhelming and will become much worse the day that Asha leaves us. Please tell me that I'm not a terrible furbaby mommy.

Day 1 of Stims and Day 1 of Asha's return home

This morning around 8am I gave myself my first injection of IVF #2. This sub-q drug cocktail included 150IU Meno.pur and 300IU of Brav.elle. Tomorrow morning I'll do the same dose, but on Monday I drop the Brav.elle to 150IU. Right now I'm only doing morning doses, but if this cycle is anything like the last I'll probably eventually add an evending dose to the mix. I go for my first follicle tracking scan on Monday morning. I'm also on Doxy, Dexa.methasone, baby aspirin, and prenatals. K seems to be doing well on estrogen and the lowered dose of lupron. She goes on Thursday for her lining check.

I want to thank all of you for your kindness and understanding regarding my furbaby, Asha's, condition. We've known since last April that she has a progressive, terminal illness, but I guess we just got comfortable with her stable state and put everything else in the back of our minds. Even if I had spent the last year worrying and agonizing over when this day would come I still wouldn't be prepared for the end. As I mentioned in my last post Asha is my special kitty. She truly helped to get me through some of my darkest days and nights. There were plenty of days when I would just sit on my couch and cry after J went back to work following Myle's death and Asha would be right there to comfort me. Last night I sat on the couch and cried my eyes out thinking of Asha alone in a kennel at the vet's office. I had visions of her dying alone without me there to hold and comfort her. I told J that no matter what they said she would be coming home with us today and she did.

I went to the vet as soon as I could this morning and we discussed the seriousness of her condition and the options that were before us. We had the choice to bring her home and continue to treat her as we've been doing knowing that she'd slowly (or rapidly) decline, we could leave her there to continue to receive IV fluid treatments knowing that her blood levels likely wouldn't improve, or we could bring her home to continue the IV fluid treatments to let her enjoy the remainder of her days with us there to give her love. Additionally, we were given the option to pursue a kidney transplant and were given a referral to UW-Madison Vet Hospital. We obviously chose to bring Asha home and are scheduled to have a consult with Dr. McAnulty sometime next week to discuss whether or not Asha is a candidate for kidney transplant. (Please do not judge me for considering spending thousands on a kidney transplant to save my cat's life. I have enough people IRL who will do that.)

If you saw Asha today you'd probably never guess that she's terminally ill because she looks alert and is quite active, but her kidney blood levels tell a different story as does her lack of appetite. The appetite is currently my big challenge. I give her an anabolic steroid every other day to stimulate her appetite. Today I presented her with shredded chicken, canned tuna, deli turkey, and scrambled eggs. She licked the water off the canned tuna and licked/nibbled on the scrambled eggs. I honestly think she's too busy exploring the house to want to eat right now. She did eat two cat treats when I held her at the vet, so I'm hoping she eats more later today.

It hurts me so to know that I can't do any more than we're already doing to help her. They left the IV line in her leg and we are now to give her 2 IV treatments of fluids (150cc) each day--one in the am and one in the pm. I also have to flush her line with heparin each time I do this. We will continue this treatment until we speak to the vet at UW to determine if she's a candidate for a kidney transplant. I came home and visited their website and it seems as though she's an ideal candidate, but have to admit that I'm scared about putting her through that whole process too. I'm hoping that after talking with the surgeon we'll have a better sense of what to do. If Asha was an elderly cat, we wouldn't even consider the transplant. But she's relatively young at only 9 and could live several more years with a new kidney. This seems worth the financial and emotional costs to us because we know that Asha's unconditional love is worth every penny and every bit of stress it might cause us. So now we just wait until Monday to see what the hospital has to say and we love and appreciate every single minute Asha is here with us!

Memorial Day

I know that Memorial Day is the official day that we celebrate and remember all the brave men and women who died serving our country, but for most it's also become a day when we remember and celebrate our loved ones who we've lost. The cemetaries are filled with beautiful, vibrant colored flowers (both fresh and fake) and the traffic in and out of the cemetary is constant. I go to the cemetary to visit Myles's grave almost daily and I usually sit at his grave with the peace and comfort of singing birds and wind chimes playing a tune in the blowing breeze. I occassionally see a visitor or two to a nearby grave, but for the most party I'm alone while I sit and remember. Today I am surrounded by people passing through the cemetary to pay tribute to their long lost relatives. I have to admit that I find myself slightly annoyed as I watch the constant flow of vehicles stream in and out. I'm irked because I wonder why people rely on a national holiday to remember their loved ones, but then I have to remind myself that people grieve and remember differently. Just because they don't go to the cemetary daily doesn't mean that they don't miss those they've lost and just because they aren't there doesn't mean they aren't remembering. I know that when I'm not there at Myles's grave I'm still loving, missing, and remembering my son. A huge thanks to all of my friends and family who are remembering Myles with us today and every day!

Here are some pictures of Myles's grave. I've added a few items since I took the first couple of photos, but you can see them individually pictured at the bottom.

The flower arrangement I made for Myles.

A hanging pot of flowers from Grandma Kristi & Grandpa Joe.
A space shuttle from my dear friends, M & J, and their late son, Charley.

A Brew Crew ball from special Auntie D and Uncle J.

A cute ceramic frog from my blogger friend, Cortney.

Babyloss Mammas Are Survivors

"My Mom is a Survivor"
By Kaye Des'Ormeaux
(Dedicated to mothers who have lost a child
and have somehow survived.)

My Mom is a survivor, or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach that never wash away...
I watch over my surviving mom, who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others...a smile of disguise!
But through Heaven's door I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death to keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows it is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom through Heaven's open door...
I try to tell her that angels protect me forevermore.
I know that doesn't help her... or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her...and show her that you care.
For no matter what she says...no matter what she feels.
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal.

I'm thinking of all of you who've loved and lost your babies. This weekend will be tough for all of us, but know that we are strong. We walk through life with a broken heart with only a memory of our babies to keep us going. We love our babies just as much as our friends and family who are fortunate to have their children with them here on Earth. Despite the "great sadness" that surrounds us we manage to forge ahead. It's not easy most days, yet we dig deep and find the smallest shred of inner strength to keep on going. We are survivors!

For me my memories of Myles keep me going. I remember what an amazing little "soldier" he was and what a courageous battle he waged. I remind myself that I promised Myles that I would emulate his strength and that I would continue my fight. I fought for Myles and am grateful for all that I went through to have him. I know in my heart that my continued fight and all the pain that comes with it is not in vain. I am determined to beat infertility once again and despite all the devastation we've faced I'm still optimistic (yep, that's me the eternal optimist) that one day with K's help I will win this war. I am a survivor and I will triumph!

May Day and Myles

I thought by distracting myself with activities I could forget about the significance of May 1--the day in 2008 when Myles was supposed to be born--but really all it did was delay the inevitable emotional meltdown. I had a girl's night in party with some of my friends from work on Friday night. We drank X-rated martinis and wine. We ate a variety of delectable appetizers and indulged in decadent chocolates. We chatted and had a nice time. It was a great distraction. By the time they left I was exhausted and fell asleep immediately, which was great because I didn't have time to think.

Yesterday I was busy with a variety of things, but when we went to K's for a bonfire I watched her two little boys play with her friends three little boys and I was hit with the reality that I'll never get to see Myles do any of those things I watched them do. The fact is that I'll never get to see Myles again. While sitting around the fire we were listening to K's I.pod on shuffle and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole came on. I was already thinking of Myles, but this song took me back to the day we buried him. We played this song while we released 26 rainbow-colored balloons at his burial service. I'm certain that J was thinking about it too and K even mentioned that she remembered this song at Myles's funeral. I tried to ignore it, so I wouldn't burst into tears in front of K's friends. After this song finished the next song that played was "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. As most of you know this is one of the songs that I put on Myles's tribute video. It's also one of the songs that played at his funeral. I was in total disbelief that as I was thinking of Myles and all that I'd be missing with him two songs that will forever be etched in my mind as Myles's songs played back to back on K's I.pod. K noticed it too and kept saying how strange it was.

Today the inevitable happened ... I had a total meltdown. I woke up to see the sun shining, but I didn't feel sunny inside at all. I felt completely knocked down and sad. Despite the fact that I would've liked to stay in bed all day I got up and ran some errands. On the way home I started crying and couldn't stop. I've been crying on and off all day long. I miss Myles so much that it physically hurts. I will spend the rest of my life with an aching heart. I may not cry every day anymore, but it doesn't mean that my heart doesn't hurt just as much as it did the day Myles died. It does and it will always hurt. I get the impression that some people think once I have another baby my heart will no longer be broken, but what they don't realize is that nothing is ever going to fill this giant hole in my heart. This is the wound that my son's death has left on me and it's a wound that I will bare for life.

Grief, Easter, and Too Much Baby Stuff

My dear friend, S, sent me an email today that touched me (thanks S!). I was having a horrible day (I'll get to that later in this post) and this email came at the right time. S recently read an article by Dawn Anna, a mother who lost a daughter in the Columbine tragedy 10 years ago, and was struck by the following quote:

"There is nothing wrong with being on your knees. There is nothing wrong with being down in the darkness. There is nothing wrong with staying there as long as you need to. I know one way to start crawling towards the light. The hole in your heart will never get smaller. Never. So there is only one way to make it feel smaller. Grow your heart bigger every day."

I appreciated this quote and was happy to hear another Mother who's lost a child say this. I feel that my friends and family don't understand that no matter how long its been it since Myles's death it's still horribly difficult to face each day without my child. That some days are dark and other days are darker. That the pain never goes away and that you'll always have a hole in your heart. Yet despite all the pain and sadness you can learn to live your life and use your grief to transform your life. I do not think that Ms. Anna is saying that we should appreciate our losses and be gracious for the lessons we've learned (I despise that mentality), but rather that it's a part of our lives and we have the choice to let the grief consume us or we can use the grief to enrich our lives.

*****************************************************

So, why is was my day horrible? Easter isn't a holiday that I'm particularly fond of or that is a big deal in our family. However, last year Easter became an extraordinarily difficult holiday for me. Myles died in February and the first holiday following his death was Easter. This year was equally difficult. J and I stayed home alone today. I couldn't bare the thought of watching the kids in our families today. Instead I spent the morning and afternoon in tears thinking about what should've been this year. Had Myles survived he likely would've been collecting Easter eggs like so many other children were doing this year. It makes me sad to think and wonder and wish.

To make matters worse I had an overload of all things pregnancy and baby the last two days. At my in-laws yesterday I heard way too many stories about how grandchild A did this and that and the other thing. I even got to hear "just wait someday you'll have to deal with that" and "your miracle baby will come". Yesterday my dear friend, J*, gave birth to baby #3 and this afternoon my dear friend, L*, called to tell me that she's expecting #2 in late September. I'm not upset with anyone for these things, but rather just feel like I was getting bombarded by baby stuff on a day when all I wanted to do was escape the baby stuff. I am seriously excited that the day is almost over! The next holiday that I have to survive is the queen of all horrible holidays--Mother's Day.

*J and L you know I love you both and that I am truly happy for you and your families. As I've told you both before it's hard to deal with births, babies, and pregnancy announcements. It's a reminder to me of what we've lost, what is difficult for us to achieve, and what seems to always be just out of our reach. Congrats and hugs to both of you!

Pathology Report

K called me to tell me that her appointment went well today. The ob seems to think that the light spotting she's having is "normal" considering how much blood was in her uterus at the D&C. My good friend, Dr. E, who's also an ob said it's possible for her to spot/bleed right into her next period, which is what K's ob said too. If she's still spotting in a week, then she'll have a beta hcg draw. Otherwise the ob was pleased with her healing, which of course made me breathe a huge sigh of relief. I wanted nothing more than to hear that K was on the mend, at least physcially.

The ob gave K the pathology report from the chromosomal analysis that was done on the embryo. The karotype showed 46XY, which for you non-sciency folks means normal male. This news is bittersweet for J and I. We lost a normal little boy, a brother to Myles, so that is very hard to stomach. However, this news provides further evidence that I DO make some good embryos, so I can feel better going into IVF #2 and doing another ET to a carrier.

K who is not normally an emotional person burst into tears at the doctor's unveiling of the news. I can only imagine what went through her head, but am fairly certain it was a combination of guilt and blame. I tried to explain to K that "bad things happen" and that NOTHING she did or didn't do could have caused this. I don't know how to explain it, but I am certain that it had nothing to do with K's beautiful uterus. I hope that K really believes what I'm saying and tries to remind herself of this over and over again. I know from experience that guilt is an ugly beast to battle, so please keep K in your thoughts.

I'm not sure how I'll feel about this news tomorrow. It may hit me hard that we could've had another little boy come October had the universe been kinder to us. But for today I will focus on this news as a sign of hope. We now KNOW that at least 2 of my 8 embryos were chromosomally normal, so it is possible and likely that we will make a few more good embryos. And there's a good chance that we might actually get to bring a baby home.

Therapy & Courageous Conversations

Today I had my first appointment with a new therapist and have to say that I really, really liked her! She scheduled 1.5 hours with me, but I ended up being there for 2 hours. I had much to talk about with 4+ years of IF, multiple miscarriages, IVF, life-threatening HELLP, Myles's premature birth, Myles's death, surrogacy, and miscarriage with a surrogate. I'm sure it was a lot for her to take in. Towards the end of our discussion she asked me if I've always felt responsibility and guilt for things that happen to me and/or those around me? Apparently this was a reoccurring theme in my story. I thought about it for a moment and realized that I do assume responsibility for many things, including those out of my control, and as a result I drive myself crazy with guilt. I feel responsible for putting J through this nightmare. I feel responsible for Myles's early birth and death. I feel responsible for "wasting" four snowbabies on my uterus because of my selfish desire to carry another baby. I feel responsible for ruining K's formally blissful experience with pregnancy. I feel responsible for putting K and her family through all that they've been through. I feel responsible for asking too much of my friends and family. And I feel guilty and sad for my part in all of these things. My therapist told me that this is something she wants me to work on over the next 2 weeks. She says it's way too much to place all of that on myself. She says that I have to acknowledge that I didn't have control over most of these things and that I need to attempt to let them go. Umm, I can identify and acknowledge, but am not quite sure how I'm supposed to let go of this?

Today I spent the afternoon at a workshop called "Beyond Diversity", which focused on deinstitutionalizing racism and eliminating racial achievement disparities in public eduction. The workshop is based on the book entitled Courageous Conversations and was quite enlightening and has opened my eyes to institutional racism that exists in our schools. The speaker was dynamic and shared several quotes that resonated with me. Although I did think of these quotes in the context of racial disparities and bridging the gap to provide all students an equal opportunity to learn, I couldn't help but think of these quotes in relation to my own personal struggles.

"We will never be able to fix what we can't face." --Author unknown

This quote reminded me of my struggle with guilt and assuming responsibility for all the bad things that have happened. I think that by acknowledging the issue is the first step toward me being able to "fix" this line of thinking (or so I hope).

"We see things not as they are but as we are." --Douglass Fitch

This quote reminded me of the ups and downs of infertility and how that affects my line of thinking in regards to my future. If I am feeling down, then thoughts of my future are centered around hopelessness and despair. I feel certain that another child isn't a part of my future. If I'm feeling "good", then my thoughts of our future are hopeful. I tend to feel strongly that we will have another child. All too often I'm a "feeler" and this overrides or masks the "thinker" in me. J is a thinker and he rarely has this problem, but how I see things is largely affected by how I am feeling emotionally.

"We prepare ourselves to respond, but not to listen." --Franklin Covey

This quote made me think of those people who pretend to listen to what I'm saying, but in reality are actually just waiting for an opportunity to tell me what they think (or more so what I should do). I think we all do this to some extent. When I'm having a heated discussion with J I often miss most of what he's saying because rather than intently listening to what he's saying I'm actually going over in my mind what I'm going to say to him. I think this is a natural tendency, yet I realize that it is incredibly ineffective communication. This is just a reminder to me that I need to focus on being a better listener and hope that others will do the same.

Spring

I used to love spring and the awakening of life that accompanies it, but that was before infertility, miscarriages, and Myles's death. Now spring is just a reminder of what should've been. My first baby's due date was April 17. Myles's due date was May 1. It doesn't help that Mother's Day follows these dates and I absolutely despise Mother's Day! I have for the last 5 years. Last year was by far the worst Mother's Day ever and I'm certain that this year is going to be just as bad. Yes, I'm a Mother. I know that, but it's not the same. If I want to spend Mother's Day with my son I have to go to the cemetary. I don't smile and laugh and play with my child on Mother's Day, but rather sit and stare at his headstone while tears roll down my face. Mother's Day for babyloss mamas and infertiles is a sad, horrible reminder of what we don't have.

(BTW ... I saw my first TV commercial for Mother's Day on Friday night and I'm not looking forward to the onslaught of such adds after Easter!)

Deep Dark Place

This is where I went yesterday and am not sure when I'll return. Please beware that this is not a happy, hopeful post by any means. Today I feel hopeless and want to curl up in my dark place and not face the world with my fake happy face. The people IRL who read this won't understand how one goes to such a place and I'm too tired to explain it. Quite frankly I'm reaching the point where I'm just plain tired, actually exhausted is more like it. Like one of my dear blogger friends I too want off this horrible ride!

One of my closest friends, L, listened to me cry and go on for hours yesterday. She has to endure my constant questions about how the universe can put so much on one family ... about how unfair it is that others are blessed repeatedly and others are just beaten down repeatedly ... about how I don't believe in miracles. All of those beliefs went out the window when Myles died. At one point during this conversation L said that maybe this is hell? Maybe J and I are experiencing hell on Earth? My response was that hell couldn't possibly be any worse than the life we live, so I guess this is my hell.

I have reached a point when honestly I wonder if I'm in denial. Am I refusing to see the evidence that is stacking up in front of me? For as difficult as it is to endure the constant heartache we face it is even more difficult for me to acknowledge the real possiblity that I might not have another child.

(Please don't give me any trite platitudes or promises that I'll one day be a mother to another child. I really don't need that right now. I just need to wallow in my dark place.)

Mourning in Mexico with Margaritas

Per K's request we are going to go to Mexican as planned. We fly out early tomorrow morning. We are hoping that the sun and tons of tequila will be good for us as we work through the emotions of this loss. I am worried about K, but I know that she has an amazing support system in her husband, children, friends and family. I know she's strong and I know she will be fine, yet I still worry. I assume that a little break from us may be helpful for K. She may need some time alone to work through the emotions of the loss. I know it's a different set of emotions to deal with than mine, but I'm sure it is just as challenging (if not more). K so wanted this dream to come true for us and now she has to deal with the utter disappointment and the physical pain. I just wish her peace and healing in the process.

BTW ... for those of you who have been wondering I did do the Brazilian wax. My appointment was Wednesday night and I figured that with the emotional pain I was going through any physical pain would seem insignificant. I have to say it really wasn't that bad and I'd definitely do it again.

I'm off to soak up some sun, regroup, and drink muchos margaritas! I'll try to do at least one quick post from Mexico, but promised J that I wouldn't be blogging during our vacation.

Walking Through Flames

I am at a loss for what to say. I am moved beyond words by your kindness, compassion, sadness, mourning and willingness to be mad at the universe with us. We will ever so slowly pick up the pieces as we always manage to do. K is strong and I know she will weather the storm and will come out fine on the other side, but my heart still hurts for her and for us. I know K wanted to do this for us to help us realize our dreams and I know she was aware of the risks, yet I can't get over how unfair it is that she has to go through this. Someone who gives such a gift shouldn't have to suffer. We have been openly communicating and are doing are best to try to support each other through this. As K reminded me this morning "we're in this together". That tiny little phrase warmed my heart and took away some of the guilt I feel for putting K through this. I was reminded that we are a team and that although it's not going to be easy for any of us, we will perservere!

I am saddened that the universe teased me and dangled my dream in front of me only to coldly rip it from me again. You'd think I'd be used to the disappointment and sadness of a miscarriage being that this is the 5th one I've lived through, but I can't seem to grow accustomed to it. Despite my best efforts to guard myself and prepare myself for bad news I'm left shocked and devastated. As most of you know this little embryo had an extra special place in my heart as he/she was conceived with Myles and frozen with him. This little embryo was my last living connection to Myles and now it's gone and my heart aches. With every miscarriage after Myles my heart aches more for him. The losses take me to the dark place inside of me where I am certain that I will never have another child and that Myles was my one shot at motherhood and I f*cked it up. (Please don't lecture me on my guilt over Myles's death. I'm logical and know I couldn't do anything, but it doesn't make the hurt and guilt in my heart any less sharp.)

I looked to surrogacy as my hope for the future and I never expected that this would happen. After having a day to reflect and think, I'm still convinced that surrogacy is the path for us to baby #2 (or #3). A friend asked me last night why I don't consider adoption. At this point I don't care to get into all the details of why adoption isn't the appropriate path for us at this time, but suffice it to say that it just doesn't feel right to me. I felt strongly when pursuing IVF that it would lead me to a baby and it led me to Myles. Yes, I had to go through hell and back to get there, but I was blessed with my wonderful, amazing little Mr. Myles. I would do it all over again and go through more just to have him for a minute of time.

Others have asked questions that leave me thinking they wonder how and why I put myself through this repeated heartache? I realize that it's difficult for some people, especially those who have easily conceived their children, to understand how someone would continue to go through such pain and devastation. It seems sadistic. But I ask anyone who's a parent to ask yourself this question ... Would you walk through fire for your child? I'm certain you all would. I am doing just that. I just walk a little longer and through a little hotter flames. I may stumble through the flames, but I manage to get up again and continue to walk. I walk through these flames for the child I know in my heart awaits me in the future. I feel it in my heart that surrogacy is the path that will lead me to another child, so when, and if, K is ready we will try again.

Fetal Demise ...

... yes that's right there wasn't a heartbeat and the baby hadn't grown in a week. There was a lot of blood forming all around the gestational sac, so I'm sure the miscarriage will happen soon once K stops the PIO. At least I hope for K's sake it's over soon and relatively painlessly. I was prepared for this and just yesterday hypothesized to my IVF nurse that this very same scenario would play out at today's appointment.

I am crushed yet again, but more crushed for K. I'm used to this kind of disappointment ... I've lived through worse, but K she hasn't had to deal with tragedies in pregnancy and now because of me she will go through the physical and emotional pain of a miscarriage. I did this to K ... I put her through this and I feel horrible. I brought her into my nightmarish world and I have forever changed her. K entered this journey with us to help us make our dreams come true and look what we gave her in return. K was strong and kept telling me not to worry about her. I am worried about someone who can give so selflessly to us and then be put through this incredible hell. This whole situation is f*cked up and unfair beyond words.

So, apparently it's not just my $hitty, ghetto uterus that I have to worry about anymore, but now I also have to worry about my f*cked up eggs. My beautiful, strong, highly-graded embryos are not what they appear to be and my hypothesis is that my eggs suck! We know that one of my 8 Grade A embryos from IVF was chromosomally sound as Myles's karyotype was 46XY (normal male), but who knows about the others. 1 out of 8 is terrible. With 5 miscarriages (wait is it ? the number is getting so high I'm losing count) I suspect that the embryos might be a contributing factor too. Yes, the others losses could have been due to my crap uterus as we suspected, but this is the 2nd loss we've had after cardiac activity was established (my 1st m/c was @ 12wks) and that's typically an indicator of some chromosomal problem, especially when you know that a hormonal imbalance can't be the cause and the uterus is perfect, like K's. I asked K to collect a specimen for pathology (how nice of me, hah?! as if she doesn't have enough $hit to deal with on my account) and I anticipate the news of a chromosomal mess in the poor little embryo. Yep, today I officially feel like my entire reproductive system is beyond f*cked up!

As you know J and I have plans to fly to Mexico on Saturday, but how can I go and leave K to go through this alone. What kind of person does that?

Myles--3 days old

I have been reading my journal that I started the day I was diagnosed with preeclampsia. It's quite difficult to read the daily updates about Myles, but I want to remember each and every detail of his 26 days of life. Over the next 22 days I plan to do daily blog posts that chronicle Myles's life.

A year ago today Myles was only 4 days old and one of the neonatologists sat us down and told us that we should expect the worst. He told us to call and make arrangements with a local funeral home. The NICU doc said that his 20+ years of experience and a gut feeling told him that Myles wouldn't make it. Of course we were absolutely devastated, but we refused to give up on Myles. We spent the whole day with Myles telling him how much we loved him, how proud of him we were, we encouraged him to keep up the fight, but also told him that we understood if it was too much to continue. We held his little hands and feet and admired him all day.


Many of our friends and family came to meet Myles on his 4th day of age. My bff's, L & J, my parents, J's mom, and my brother, had all met Myles on his birthday, but a few others came to meet him for the very 1st time. Everyone who met Myles thought he was absolutely perfect and they all cheered him on! Auntie D and Uncle J brought Myles a little stuffed lion named Growwl. It was so cute and so fitting. A lion is a symbol of courage, so we put it in Myles's isollette to watch over him, to give him some company, and to help him continue to find the courage to keep up his heroic fight!

Birthday preparations of a different kind

Well tonight was my first emotional breakdown of the week. J and I went shopping at the local home improvement store to buy the supplies for the upstairs bathroom remodel. It was a nice distraction, but then I went to another store to get birthday balloons for Myles's grave. I stood in the store staring at all the balloons and was overwhelmed by the selection. None of them seemed appropriate or good enough. As I scanned the rows of balloons I came to a balloon with Elmo on it that said "Happy 1st Birthday" and it hit me ... Myles would've been turning 1 tomorrow had he survived. The tears started to well up and I quickly picked out a basic, non-kid birthday balloon, bought it, stood there for what felt like an eternity while the young girl to blew it up, and practically ran to the car after she handed it to me.

Once I got into the car I burst into tears. J didn't know what was going on and I told him how things should be different. How I should be planning Myles's first birthday party. I should be making super cute birthday invitations to send to the family and friends. I should be baking a cute Elmo cake. I should be anticipating the delight of watching my little guy smash his hands into his cake. I should be buying decorations for a party. I should be buying fun toys. But, I'm not. I'm planning for a birthday celebration for a child who's not present on this Earth. I bought balloons to hang at my son's grave. I made star-shaped ice lanterns that I will place around my son's headstone. I will light the votive candles I placed within the lanterns around dusk. J and I will get a specialty cupcake from a local bakery and will place one candle on it in memory of Myles. We will quietly sing happy birthday and know that when we blow out the candle our one wish will never come true.

Remembering

Last year at this time I was lying in a hospital bed at Mayo Clinic. Two days prior I was transferred via ambulance to this hospital because the local one where I had been for a couple of days didn't have a Level III NICU. The day I was transferred I was diagnosed with severe preeclampsia when they discovered IUGR and reverse diastolic blood flow. You'd think I would've known that I would be delivering sooner than expected, but I didn't have a clue. When I left the local hospital my ob still said that he thought I'd make it to 28wks, so I went with that. When I was first placed on bed rest at home at 23wks I figured I'd be there bored out of my mind for the next 17wks. I had no idea that in three short weeks I would be delivering my baby and the hell that I would live in for the rest of my life.

As an avid scrap booker I am disappointed that I didn't take photos of the hospital room, the wonderful nurses who cared for me, me in the hospital, or anything! My excuse is that I expected to be there a lot longer and would have plenty of time to take photos for my pregnancy scrapbook. Now as I sit here getting ready to go scrap book with my girlfriends I think about how much is missing from my book. The last photos I have of me pregnant were taken on New Year's Eve and two that Josh took of my belly sometime during my home bed rest. In the photos of my on New Year's Eve I look puffy and swollen in the face and I wonder why I didn't notice it. No one else noticed it either. These were the signs that preeclampsia had already started to rear it's ugly head and given that Myles was the size of a 20-21wk baby it likely started right after my 20wk ultrasound.

Photos of me out on New Year's Eve:


My final pregnancy photos:


It's hard for me to think that a year ago I was blissfully ignorant. I was happily awaiting the arrival of the baby I'd spent so long trying to meet. I remember enjoying Myles's kicks and remember thinking how funny it was that he played "chase the baby with the monitor" games with the nurses. I remember the first day I felt Myles move--I was sitting on the couch eating dinner by myself as Josh was away at training for work. It was the most incredible feeling! A feeling that I envied in others for so many years. Every day after that day I felt Myles move and remember thinking how it was our little secret. A special secret that only Myles and I would ever know. I cherish those moments.

I can't believe that in 5 days it will have been a whole year since the traumatic morning when I was told that I had developed HELLP syndrome and that my kidneys and liver were shutting down. I was told that they had no choice but to deliver my baby at 26wks or I would die. My cherished, secret moments with Myles would no longer be.

Trying to take my life back from IF

A grad school friend emailed me and said "I know about your surrogacy journey (which I know is a HUGE part of your life), but what about the rest?" This simple question caught me off guard a bit. I was at a loss for words. I still have hobbies and interests and I enjoy my job, but clearly my life has become one infertility treatment after the next. We have spent the last 4 years and 8 months our lives living this way. We have been consumed by infertility and it's directed the course of every aspect of our lives. Infertility has taken so much from us and I refuse to let it take any more. I am going to stop planning my life around the "what ifs" of infertility and just plain live my life. If I've learned anything, I've learned that there aren't any guarantees in life and that you need to live each day like it's the last.

Last week I joined the YMCA again (I let my membership expire after Myles died) and also signed up for Wei.ght Wat.chers (on-line membership). Infertility and depression have caused me to gain weight and I plan to get my hot bikini body back. I'm definitely not huge, but I'm no size 1/2 anymore either! J and I signed up for a spinning class, which should kick my a$$, and help me shed the pounds.

We are planning a trip to Mexico with some friends over Spring Break, but we haven't been able to commit because we don't know how the FET on 1/29 will turn out. We are hopeful it will result in a bfp, but if it doesn't then we have to do another ER. More than likely we'd start the protocol immediately and would be doing an ER sometime in March. This is exactly what I'm trying to get away from. I'm tired of infertility controlling my life, yet I feel stuck. Uggh, I HATE infertility and the control it has over us!

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Last week I went to see my GP because I've been having sleeping problems. Every single night when I go to bed I replay all the days leading up to Myles's birth. I relive the days of his life and the night he died. No wonder I'm having problems sleeping! My GP just so happens to have a M.S. in marriage and family counseling (weird, I know). When I told him about my sleeping problems we discussed the upcoming anniversaries. He seems to think I'm suffering from post-traumatic stress and that the sleeping problems are a result of anxiety, so he put me on an anti-anxiety med to help get me through the next few months.

I guess the doc's assessment makes sense because all of the problems started the weekend of 1/3, which was the day when I was diagnosed with high blood pressure last year. It was all down hill from that day. At this point last year I was hospitalized. I was naive. I never, ever imagined I'd be delivering my baby in a little over a week. Nor could I fathom the horror I'd experience on 2/16 as I watched my son die in my arms. I guess it's probably better that I was living life in a state of ignorant bliss. I was enjoying the last few days of my pregnancy and the amazing, magical moments Myles and I had together.

Please people try to remember a child died

I am mortified by the criticism that the Travolta's are receiving right now. I know that their beliefs are well let's just say less than conventional, but they are their beliefs. Beliefs are things that we as individual view to be valid and true. Beliefs are as individual as people are and just because we don't understand and/or agree with them doesn't mean that they are wrong! Again they are beliefs NOT facts and aren't a matter of right or wrong. I am disheartened that so many people are focusing on the issue at hand--the Travolta's lost a child, which is by far the worst thing that any parent could endure.

I lurk on S.M.O (a surrogate message board) and periodically post. I saw a thread about how sad it was that the Travolta's son had died, so I went to read it. I was left feeling ill. The OP of the thread had great intentions and seems heartfelt and sincere, but very quickly others hijacked the thread and started insulting the Travolta's beliefs. Some of the women even blamed them for their child's death. It was horribly sad and disappointing for me. I generally consider surrogates to be among the most compassionate, understanding, and empathetic, so these posts were extremely disappointing to me. I decided to speak up as a baby loss mama and let these ladies hear my thoughts. Here's what I said:

My heart just breaks for the Travolta's. Losing a child is something that no parent should have to go through! When your child dies your heart literally feels as though it's shattered into a million tiny pieces. You feel empty and lost. You don't know what to do or where to go. Life after the death of a child is strange, unfamiliar and lonely. The grief journey is never ending and filled with many unexpected detours. I know because I am currently traveling this road. It's quite disheartening to think that so many people, specifically parents (including many of you), are criticizing this grieving family right now. Try just for a second to imagine what they are going through. The lack of empathy I'm hearing from women who I've considered to be very empathetic is sad and completely disappointing. If you haven't lost a child (and I hope none of you ever have to know this pain), then you have no idea how horribly difficult it is. Some of you say you'd die if you lost a child and in my experience you certainly feel like death is a better alternative than the overwhelming emotional pain of losing your child, but somehow, someway you take each day minute by minute. You try to put one foot in front of the other and walk forward. However, the walking is difficult and you need to lean on others to help you navigate in this new, horrible world. Please try to remember this and show respect to the Travolta family by sending your condolences, sympathy, and love!

Unfortunately my thoughts were completely ignored. Now I'm furthered saddened. I just hope that none of these horribly judgmental women ever have to go through what I've gone through, what many of you have gone through, and the nightmare that the Travolta's are currently going through.