Getting Older, Bad Eggs, and Risk-Free Living

After a discussion with our doctor and a multitude of encouragement from others, we decided to get second opinion regarding my gene mutation.  Deciding to get a second opinion did not come easily for me.  Mostly because I hate change and am an extremely loyal person, sometimes to a fault.  However, my love for our babies and future babies (God-willing) drove me to abandon my loyalty and fear of change to seek a second opinion.

On Monday, we met with a doctor a friend of ours referred us to.  As the doctor entered the room, she warmly greeted us.  Her earnest welcome suddenly made the sterile exam room feel more welcoming, and tentatively caused my nervousness to subside.  Following a couple of superficial comments, our conversation proceeded to the purpose of our visit and continued with a detailed discussion of our two losses, which did not come easily, I might add.  

After I shared, she responded with an alternative perspective I had never considered before or heard prior to that appointment.  She frankly said that she believed our miscarriages had nothing to do with my gene mutation.  Her theory was based on two facts.  First, I have only one copy of the gene mutation opposed to two, and second, our miscarriages were two different situations and circumstances.  She proceeded to say that she believed our first miscarriage was the result of statistics (most likely caused by chromosomal abnormalities) and the second was more than likely the result of a "bad egg".  

She went on to explain that as we get older, our ovaries are more likely to release a "bad egg".  I am not quite sure what she said directly after that statement because my brain was fixated on the word "older", which was then followed by a mini-meltdown in my head as I considered the fact that I was getting "older" and would, at times, release "bad eggs".  A reality I had never really took the time to face prior to that moment so you can imagine my surprise.  Reality hit hard.  I continued to process her words in my mind, "I am getting 'older' and sometimes my ovaries will release 'bad eggs'."  This reality brought a familiar emotion:  Fear.

I tried to collect myself and dismiss the fear, but I couldn't help but think about the fact that statistics, my "older" age, and "bad eggs" could not be prevented or cured.  So I found myself, once again, desperately longing for a guarantee that we would never have to suffer a miscarriage again.  Instead of being grateful that I don't have an incurable problem or possibly not even a problem at all, I whined and complained about not having a risk-free plan that would eradicate all my fears, the risk that comes with trying again, and the uncertainty of the future.  I was so bent on living a risk-free life without pain or conflicts or consequences that I failed to see the beauty of the fresh, new perspective I had just been offered.  

I think as human beings we naturally long for security and safety.  We long for a guarantee so we do not have to take risks and face our fears.  We long for understanding so things will feel smaller and within our control.  We dislike feeling out of control because it's scary, unpredictable, and involves risk.  But this world does not offer guarantees and definitive answers, just educated guesses and logical conclusions.  It does not offer security and safety, just impostors that falsely promise these things.  It does not because it cannot.  It wasn't intended to.

Although my humanity and finite mind still desperately long for a visible guarantee, a promise that our future will not include things of the past - I know that true security and safety can only be found in my Savior's loving arms, no matter our circumstances.  He is showing me that when I choose to stop looking for my security and safety in this world,  I am free to trust Him with our future, face my fears, and take risks.  Risks that although they do not come with a guarantee, come with a purpose and a plan beyond my scope of vision.  And in the end, I would rather take the risk of experiencing heartache and loss all over again then to live in the safety of a risk-free life and miss out on one of the most precious gifts in this world...holding our baby in our arms.  Things that are worthwhile involve risk, and this is a risk that is as worthwhile as they come.

Unexpected Moments

There is something that happens to pain as time passes.  It is not that it disappears or that the painful experience stops affecting the person - because loss changes a person - but as time passes, the pain becomes different.  In the beginning it's raw, oh so raw like an open wound exposed to all the surrounding elements, so delicate, so fragile, so vulnerable.  Then something happens.  As more time passes and healing takes place, it does not feel quite so raw.

However, there are still moments that come and seem to come from nowhere, that take you right back to that raw place.  I have had a couple of those over the past few weeks.  One of them was on Christmas day.  Christmas day began with a big southern breakfast, continued with opening gifts, and was interspersed with visiting with family.  The day was full and so were the homes we were in.  Yet, at the end of the day, I had this feeling of aching emptiness.

At first, I was not sure where these feelings were coming from.  I thought, "Maybe I am a little homesick since we are not celebrating Christmas in our own home this year".  But that failed to explain the depth of my feelings.  My feelings also failed to be explained by loneliness because I was surrounded by family who loved me and I loved back.  Then it hit me, the most obvious reason, "Our baby is not here with us".  Ashton's due date was about two weeks before Christmas and although Christmas had arrived, he or she was not in our arms.

My heart was aching for our baby and my arms were empty.  And suddenly the unexpected pain of our initial loss flooded my heart and mind.  The horror of that day.  The heartbreak.  The flood of tears.  The fears coming to life.  The pain.  Words fail to bring life to my feelings that day, but on the eve of Christmas, they were very real to me.  It was one of those moments and I felt raw.

Earlier this week, I had another one of those unexpected moments.  As a counselor, I know that people who experience trauma (or loss) can be triggered by a sound, a smell, a movement, a sight, a word that can instantaneously take them back to a traumatic moment they experienced in the past.  I know this, but had never experienced it like I did that day.  On Tuesday morning, my period started and it was more painful than it had ever been.  In an attempt to go on with my day, I took some pain medication and waited for it to kick in.

Later in the day (I am getting really personal here), I took a trip to the bathroom and realized that it was not only more painful, but also heavier than it's ever been.  And in that moment, at the sight of blood while simultaneously experiencing painful cramps, I was taken back.  Back to the moment of our second miscarriage.  It literally felt like I was experiencing it all over again.  I had been triggered.  I felt paralyzed by fear and my eyes instantly welled up with tears.  Immediately feeling what I felt then.  The fear.  The pain.  The loss.  The grief.  The tears flowed and I let them.  I could not control it.  I could not stop it.  Not that I had a choice, but I did not even try to fight it.  They needed a way out and I needed it too.

These were the moments that came and unexpectedly took me back to that place.  That painful, raw, heart-wrenching place.  And although I hate re-experiencing the heartbreak and pain, I don't mind the fact that they remind me not of where I have been, but of where I have come from.  Those moments, even though they hurt like do, do not mean that I am back where started from.  Instead, they are a reminder of what I have overcome.  A reminder of what God has brought us through and continues to.  A reminder of my love for our precious babies.  For if the love was lacking, it would not hurt so bad.  So instead of living in fear of those unexpected moments and attempting to fight the pain when it comes, I hope to embrace the reminders of where I have come from, what I have overcome, what God has brought us through and will continue to, our love for our precious babies, and our babies lives - even though short they were - they have forever changed us.

A New Year

I love the possibilities of a new year, especially this year.  Last year was one of the most challenging years I've experienced so needless to say I am very thankful it's a new year.  Last year started out with settling into our new home, high hopes, and the anticipation of starting a family.  It was a joyous and exciting time in our lives and marriage.  Finding out we were pregnant in April brought much excitement and joy.  We went to our 10 week ultrasound with the hope of seeing our baby and hearing his or her heartbeat only to discover we had experienced a missed miscarriage.

September brought joy and excitement once again with the news of our second pregnancy, but it resulted in loosing our second baby in October when I was just shy of 8 weeks along.  These experiences have brought much heartache, grief, questions, disappointment, anxiety, and fear.  However, our story does not stop there.  God has also brought healing, new found hope, growth, maturity, and an increased awareness of His love and comfort.  They didn't come easily, but they came and they continue to.

Today I am full of thankfulness for a fresh start and a new beginning.  I am thankful we no longer have to be plagued by the year 2012.  Even though some of the wounds still remain, just the thought of a new year brings hope and possibility once again.  It does not erase the pain of last year, but it brings the possibility that this year could be different, better.  I realize that what this year holds is completely out of my control - I learned the hard way last year that very little is actually in my control - but I just love having a new beginning.

I hope that no matter what this year holds, my love, faith, and trust in God will continue to grow.  I hope my love for my husband and our marriage will continue to grow and mature, and that I will frequently exercise gratitude for the time we have to share our lives together.  I hope that the wounds in my heart will continue to heal.  In raw honesty, I hope that we will experience the joy and excitement of conception and that we will hold our own baby in our arms.  And although I know there are many factors and things I cannot control, I will continue to hope.  And in addition to hope, I will also hold tightly to God's love and trustworthiness no matter what our circumstances may be.

It feels so good to have renewed hope and possibilities, and for this moment I choose to simply enjoy these gifts and let go of everything else.

Aching Arms

Today my arms are aching.  They are aching because they long to hold our first child...yet they remain empty.  Today marks our first child's expected due date.  I cannot help but think about what might have been or what should have been.  The "should have been's" get me every time.  Lately, these have been the biggest triggers of my grief and today is a big "should have been". 

We should have been meeting our baby face to face for the first time.  We should have been looking into our baby's big brown or blue eyes and experiencing something our hearts have yet to experience.  We should have been holding our baby in our arms, rejoicing.  Instead, my arms are empty and aching.

Our precious baby is on my mind and heart today.  And today is a day to remember him or her.  A day to remember the short, but significant impact he or she has had on our hearts and lives.  A day to remember the grieving, but also the healing.  A day to briefly reflect on those moments we never thought we would survive, yet to see how our God has brought us through.  

However, to be very honest, a part of me does not want to forget even the horrific days because even those encompass the memories I have of our baby.  Although there is much pain in those memories, there is also so much love for someone we have never met.  I remember being so excited to see our baby for the first time on the ultrasound screen and to hear his or her heartbeat.  And even though that day was the furthest thing from what we hoped, our love for our baby and our joy to see him or her is something I still hold dear.

Even as I am writing this, I am realizing that it is not only about holding onto the memories.  The time was just too short and the memories were just so few that I actually fear forgetting our baby.  However, as I type this I realize how silly that sounds because you cannot forget someone who is a part of you and a part of your heart.  Even though it may hurt less and less often, our love for baby will always be there.  Our healing does not mean we are forgetting our baby or loving him or her any less, and in the same way our remembering and reflecting does not mean we have to relive and re-grieve everything all over again.

It is apparent that there are times in the grieving process when we experience extremely painful moments and have flashbacks, but today is different.  It is different because some healing has taken place.  It is different because we are further from where we began.  It is different because there has been some acceptance.  Today is a day of reflection, and for me part of that reflection is the natural inclination to think of "what should have been" and for this reason my heart and empty arms ache.

However, today is also a day of remembering.  Remembering the hopes and dreams we had for our baby.  Remembering the anticipation and excitement of seeing a picture of our baby for the first time.  Remembering how deeply Ashton touched my heart and changed me, even though his or her life was so brief.  All of which point to the huge amount of love we have for our baby.  A love that will always remain through all time, circumstances, and healing. 

Black & White

After our second miscarriage, my doctor suggested a myriad of tests that could be done in order to help us find out if there was anything contributing to our past miscarriages.  A few weeks later we sat down with our doctor and made a list of the tests we decided on.  The list was limited due to our insurance coverage, but we felt like it was great starting place.  After the list was made, I sat down in that plastic chair once again to get more blood drawn.  I looked away as the technician poked my arm and began to fill multiple tubes with blood.  Once she finished, we parted ways and I wondered what the results would be and how long it would take for my results to come back.

A week later I got the call.  The voice on the phone was one of the office workers.  She asked, "Are you guys trying right now?"  I replied "No, we were waiting until we found out the results of the tests."  She said, "Oh.  I was going to call in a prescription for you if you were because one of your tests came back positive."  "Oh...kay...Can you tell me what is was?", I asked.  "I don't really know.  All I know is that the doctor typically calls in a prescription when people have this particular type of situation."  So I responded, "Sooooo...it seems like it's something that can be treated?"

This, of course, was the most important question in my mind.  I had fears that something would come back positive, but my biggest fear of all was that it would not be treatable.  She said, "It appears so.  When can you come in to see the doctor?"  I gave her an overview of my schedule and she said the soonest she could get me in was in two weeks due to the holiday.  We scheduled the appointment and she hung up the phone.  As soon as we hung up, I noticed my anxiety level increasing as innumerable thoughts and worries began to swirl in my mind.

After two weeks of anxious thoughts, fears, and worries, my doctor's appointment finally arrived.  I nervously sat in the room they escorted me to waiting for the doctor to enter.  Shortly upon entering, she began to describe which test came back positive.  She explained that I have a mutated MTHFR gene that can cause a high level of homocysteine in the blood, which in turn can cause blood clots.  She also shared that low amounts of Folic Acid, Vitamin B-12, and Vitamin B-6 are also a factor.  Additionally, I learned that research is divided as to whether or not it is a direct cause of miscarriages, but many researchers have found a correlation.

The good news, she shared, was that there are treatment options, and although they vary from one doctor to the next, she revealed that some of her patients with the same diagnosis have went on to have healthy pregnancies with treatment.  She explained that her typical method of treatment is a cocktail of the previously mentioned vitamins and a baby aspirin if/when blood clots arise.  She also said that I only have one copy of the mutated gene as opposed to two, which offers more hope than the alternative.

The next step at this point is to have my homocysteine level tested, but in order to do so, I have to be off my prenatal vitamin for thirty days since it contains Folic Acid, Vitamin B-12, and Vitamin B-6.  This test is important because from my understanding, it is not the gene itself that causes the complications, but a high homocysteine level.  Once we have these results, we will be able to determine which treatment options to pursue.  So now we wait.

When reflecting on this experience, I realize that I had hoped to leave my doctor's office that day with a guarantee that we would never suffer a miscarriage again.  Oh, how I desperately long for things to be black and white.  If there is a problem, I want a solution.  If there is a diagnosis, I want a standard treatment of practice.  If there is a question, I want an answer.   Instead, I left with feelings of uncertainty, fear of other diseases this mutation can contribute to, confusion caused by my lack of skills in the subject area of Biology, unanswered questions, no standard treatment of practice, a correlation to miscarriages opposed to a direct cause, and no guarantee.  No guarantee that, once we cross all our "t's" and dot all our "i's", we will not have to experience or fear losing another child.

I know I am not the only one who longs for things to be black and white.  A guarantee that everything is going to be okay.  I long for it more now than I ever have in my whole life.  Loss does that to a person.  However, in the midst of these feelings, I am thankful that our diagnosis is not the end all of hope.  I am thankful for possibility.  I am thankful for treatment options.  I am thankful once again, that even though it feels like I have no control, I can rest in the arms of the One who does.  Which is easier said than done most of the time, but nevertheless I know it is the Truth and the Truth is black and white even when it does not feel that way.

My Worst Nightmare - Take Two

Throughout this pregnancy, I have been an anxious, fearful mess.  My biggest fear:  Having another miscarriage.  Well, I am learning that worrying about things fails to protect you and prevent your fears from coming to fruition.  I have actually been wondering what the point of worrying is anyways.  It really does not help in any way - at all.  It only seems to add more stress and chaos to life.

I woke up on one particular Friday morning, following my regular routine.  Made my way to the bathroom and discovered upon wiping that I was lightly spotting.  My first thought was "Oh  no, I am having another miscarriage!"  I dreaded that my biggest fear was coming to life.  Here we go again.  I instantly started bawling my eyes out.  I don't think I could have stopped it even if I wanted to.  

I ran to my husband in the other room to inform him, between the sobs, that I was spotting and asked him to pray.  I was also praying as tears were streaming down my face.  Pleading with God that our baby would be okay and hoping with everything within me that this did not mean my biggest fear was coming to life.

As soon as my doctor's office opened, I called and spoke with the PA.  She attempted to ease my fears with comments such as, "Some women spot throughout their pregnancy" and "It doesn't necessarily mean you're having a miscarriage."  I tried really hard to allow her words to comfort me, but as I thought about our past experience and faced the reality before me, her words felt empty.  The spotting, plus the fact that I wasn't experiencing some of the "typical" pregnancy symptoms I had in the previous pregnancy exasperated my fears all the more.

As evening arrived, the spotting was no longer pink, but red.  My fears continued to increase, but I was trying not to dwell on what may be and instead keep pleading with God for everything to be okay.  When Saturday morning arrived, I noticed there was more bleeding than before, and [Warning:  Semi-graphic content] as the day progressed blood seemed to pour out of me every time I sat on the toilet.  Then, later in the evening, I saw a couple of large dark masses that seemed to just plop out of me.  This was the scariest thing yet.

I knew very well that what I was experiencing could be a miscarriage, yet I was still clinging to the hope that things could be different.  So I kept praying.  I prayed for the bleeding to stop.  I prayed and I cried and prayed some more.  The next day the bleeding was much lighter.  I was optimistic that things may have actually been getting better.  However, I still felt unsettled.  

Since my first miscarriage was a "missed miscarriage" that resulted in a D & C, I was a little clueless about what experiencing a natural miscarriage was like.  Throughout the weekend, I had been "googling" various symptom, terms, and topics in hopes to find some answers.  During one particular search,  I happened upon a discussion that talked about different women's experiences with miscarriages.  I saw one post that was similar to how far along I was in the pregnancy (a few days shy of eight weeks) and what she described was very similar to what I had experienced.

Reality set in.  I began facing the fact that I truly may have already experienced a miscarriage.  My prayers changed.  I began to ask that God would prepare our hearts for the truth we would discover on Monday.  I asked that He would give us what we needed to make it through this again.  Having been through it once before gave me hope we could get through it again, but it also made me very aware of the emotional pain that was to come and honestly, that scared me to death.  I claimed God's goodness, faithfulness, and His love for us, and His ability to heal our hearts.  

On Monday, I called my doctor's office to fill them in on the events of the weekend.  About an hour later, my husband and I were on our way to her office.  By this time, they had gotten the results of my blood test from the previous week.  The PA confirmed that based on my HCG levels from last week's blood test and the symptoms I had over the weekend that we had indeed had another miscarriage.  Although, they had confirmed the miscarriage, they sent me to the hospital for one more blood test so they could have a comparison number for my HCG level.  Later that day, I received a phone call informing me that my HCG level was continuing to drop, confirming without a doubt that we definitely had another miscarriage.  

I had attempted to get some sleep that day - wanting desperately to be able to forget, even if just for a little while, about what we were going through.  However, except for a few brief twenty minute periods, I was unable to.  Everything seemed so surreal and I felt completely numb.  Although, I knew firsthand that there were painful days ahead and many more emotions to come, I clung to the Truth that God is trustworthy, that He is good, that He is faithful, that He loves us, and that He is able to heal our broken hearts.  So here we go again...yet, tightly clinging to the truth that He can and will bring us through this since He carried us through once before.

Emotional Roller Coaster

For the past two weeks, I have been analyzing my body and emotions, almost daily, attempting to determine whether or not we are pregnant again.  And for the record, when I analyze, I do not just analyze, I over analyze to the point that I have convinced myself that I am pregnant even though it may not be so.  So as you can imagine, I have been anxiously awaiting the time that I can actually take a test and know for sure.

Well, on Sunday, since I could not wait any longer, I decided to take one of those tests that are supposed to be able to predict whether or not you're pregnant days before your period is supposed to start.  After meticulously following the test's instructions, I stood over the stick anxiously awaiting a plus or minus sign.  Well, the minus sign never turned into what I was hoping for.  It was negative, thus beginning my emotional roller coaster.  My heart was broken.  Tears streaming down my face.  I thought to myself, "You have to accept that this may not happen in your timing" while simultaneously thinking, "It's okay.  You're testing early.  It could be wrong."

Then along came Tuesday, the day my period was supposed to arrive.  I woke up that morning with no signs of my period.  The day continued to progress and still no sign.  I know from my consistent cycle that it typically arrives prior to the evening hours so my excitement and anticipation gradually began to build.  Then the evening arrived and still no period.  So what did I do?  Take another test, of course!

I found myself in the bathroom yet again, hoovering over the test waiting for a response to appear.  This time the faintest plus sign you've ever seen appeared.  I took another one to make sure.  Another faint plus sign appeared.  I showed them both to my husband.  He confirmed that they were indeed plus signs, although so faint I honestly thought it was possible it was a figment of my imagination.  But he said he saw it too so I guess that means we can celebrate, right?  Excitement, happiness, and peace filled my heart until....

Less than an hour later I went to the bathroom and saw that I was spotting.  It was not anything to freak out about, but when I wiped I saw pink so my thought now was "I am not pregnant.  My period is starting."  I did not have any spotting with my first pregnancy so to me it automatically implied that something was not right.  Enter heartbreak and disappointment all over again.

The spotting progressed until the following evening and disappeared the next day.  So the following day I decided to take another pregnancy test.  This time the plus sign appeared again.  Although still faint, it was darker than before.  And after taking another test to confirm, I finally felt like we could celebrate yet again.

Five days.  Five pregnancy tests. One negative result.  Two faint positives.  Two more convincing positives.  So I guess that means, it's true.  We're pregnant again.  We're super excited, but incredibly fearful all at the same time.  Again, we find ourselves, our baby, our future in God's hands.  Acknowledging that we have no control, but praying and hoping our fears and worries will not come to fruition.  Only time will tell.

In the meantime, however, I am thankful for this verse that God has given me to help me fight my fears and anxiety...

"See, I am doing a new thing.  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland" (Isaiah 43:19, NIV).

Our life has felt like both the wilderness and a wasteland since our first loss four months ago, but I am clinging to God's words that He is doing a new thing.  He has blessed us with another child.  This is our child, whether or not we will hold him or her in Heaven, he or she is ours and no one or nothing will ever change that.  Thank you, Jesus, for this gift of life.

[NOTE:  This post is a reflection of events, thoughts, and feelings that occurred in September 2012.  Story to be continued.]