National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

I would have been 36 weeks today. Due November 15, 2014. I would have seen on Instagram that it was National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance day and my heart would break for those poor mothers. And then I would go right on prepping the baby nursery and slathering my stretch marks in coconut oil. Instead, this day is filled with mourning for what could have been. What should have been.

I was planning on posting about our fertility struggles once I was about 20 weeks along and we were in the clear. It’s so much easier to look back and talk about the hard times once they are over. But alas, we are still right in the midst of them.  I’ve felt an urgent need to share our story, because too often we are afraid to talk about it. I’ve been trying to be more brave, and one of my biggest fears is sharing my weaknesses with others—even those I’m super close to. Infertility is one of those awkward subjects that make people uncomfortable. And since I am a pro on talking about forbidden subjects, here we go:

Billy and I have been trying to start a family for a little over 3 years. After 3 rounds of IUI, 1 laparoscopic surgery, 1 IVF cycle, and 1 frozen embryo transfer, we still have not given up. I got pregnant this past year after the IVF cycle. We were thrilled. Our waiting was finally over.  I knew even before our pregnancy test, because my body had never felt like that before. I could never sleep long enough and I couldn’t even breathe without hurting my ta-tas. I took a home pregnancy test a little earlier than my scheduled blood test, so we found out when I was about 3 weeks along. Which is kind of stupid because my transfer was only 7 days before. How dumb is it that they count the 2 weeks before you are even pregnant as part of your pregnancy? It will never make sense to me.

Unfortunately, IVF isn’t as easy to hide as good ole regular sex is, so all of our close friends and family knew that the transfer was successful. I even had to tell all my co-workers because we had a big event coming up and I wasn’t allowed to lift anything over 10 pounds. So, instead of looking like a lazy worker, I decided to tell them. I was worried about miscarrying, of course, but I was also worried that the baby was a hermaphrodite and I’d have to choose what gender s/he was before they were old enough. And worried that my child would grow up to wear capes and be obsessed with dragons and I wouldn’t know how to relate to them. Although, Game of Thrones has helped me get rid of that worry, because now I am obsessed with dragons. Basically, I’m a worrier, so you can never trust my worries. Plus, the thrill of the good news outweighed any reservations I had about sharing too early. So, the word was spread throughout all of Vivint and Utah County.

We saw the baby’s heartbeat at 6 weeks and then again at 8 weeks.  That’s the good thing about fertility treatments—they want to check up on everything to make sure it went smoothly so you are always getting ultrasounds.  The other good thing is that I’m not even scared of going to the gynecologist anymore. I remember the first time going right before I got married, and I was a nervous wreck. Now, I’m undressed and wide open before the doc even shuts the door.  My lady parts are a free-for-all in the doctor community. Anyway, we thought we were in the clear because so many people and even our doctor had told us that once you see the heartbeat, your chances of miscarrying go way, way down. I had my last appointment with the fertility center at 9 weeks, and then they referred me to a regular OB. A regular OB with regular people who were actually pregnant! Just like me! I told Billy not to worry about coming with me that day, because he had a test coming up and we had just seen the ultrasound the week before. Plus, I’d bring him back pictures. I remember pulling in to the parking lot and feeling all nostalgic, because this is the last time I’d be here for a few more years. Oh, but nostalgia’s a bitch. As soon as they found the baby, I knew. I had been so excited to see that funny little fluttering of a heartbeat. How cute that its heart had to beat so fast like it was running sprints! I saw the familiar little shape and it was gut-wrenchingly still. I didn’t dare breathe. I watched my doctor’s face for a reaction and felt my heart sink at the pursed lips and furrowed brow. She said, “I’m not seeing a heartbeat”. Welp, I’m not either, Doc, but PLEASE, PLEASE find it! I started praying my eyeballs out. Through the sound of my heart breaking, I could tell she was really upset. I’ve never wanted to teleport to my bed so badly as I did in that moment. How am I supposed to drive home? How am I supposed to tell Billy? How am I supposed to be happy ever again? Please, oh please don’t talk to me about doing another IVF cycle right now. 30 seconds ago, my biggest worry was whether I should drive through McDonald’s on the way home. Thankfully, she explained that I had a few options for what to do now: I could wait to let my body miscarry on its own; I could take some pills that would trigger the miscarriage for me; or I could have a D&C. I decided to wait and let my body miscarry naturally.

That waiting ended up taking too long. I was still having all the symptoms—fatigue, nausea, headaches. But there wasn’t even one single positive aspect to my sickness. Nope, I was still sick and my body was trying to grow a baby that wasn’t alive anymore.  After a week of waiting for my body to get with the program, I couldn’t handle it emotionally anymore. And so I decided to take the pills. On the plus side, it was over within 5 hours. But those 5 hours were the most painful, traumatizing hours I had ever lived through. Physically and emotionally.

During the whole ordeal, from start to finish, telling Billy was the absolute hardest part. Why couldn’t he have been with me? Why did I have to say the words out loud? How do you tell the man you love that your body had let you both down yet again?

We were lucky enough to be able to send a tissue sample in to a lab. The lab found that our baby had a chromosomal abnormality called triploidy—meaning that two sperm got into the egg. This condition is not compatible with life, so it was reassuring to my logical brain to find that there was a reason my son or daughter hadn’t made it.

I’m not writing this so that we can be pitied or so that people are more sensitive to our situation. Being the proud woman that I am, I HATE being the subject of sympathy and that was one of the things holding me back from even posting this. I like to think that I can do things on my own and I’m too selfish to want to try and reassure everyone that I’m doing okay.

I’m writing this because as I have started being more open about our fertility struggles, I have had so many people reach out to me saying they are going through similar issues. People that I never would have guessed. Because we all lie about it—“Oh, not till I graduate from college”; “Once we have enough saved up”; or “After we travel the world”. It’s easier to pretend that we don’t want it, than to admit out loud that we want it more than we’ve ever wanted anything. My recent candor has made some people feel awkward (and I’ll admit, it started as my bitter intention when acquaintances will ask me, “So, when are you two having kids?” Never, ever, ever ask this question.) But, then it morphed into something that I’m not ashamed of. I hate that my personal problems are now public knowledge, but they are a part of who I am. And in order to raise awareness, I felt that I needed to share our story.

I know couples who can get pregnant from sneezing, and when they hear our story they feel guilty. And that’s not the point. I don’t want their babies. I want my own. I’m genuinely happy for those who can conceive on their own. Lord knows I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. And while I love the support of having friends reach out to me and tell me they are experiencing something similar and they feel my pain, my heart breaks that there are so many of us. So, instead of only sharing once our happy ending comes, I’m sharing while we’re going through it because I know there are men and women out there that need to hear an honest story. And maybe sharing will help them through it—I know it has helped me—but sometimes keeping it to yourself is what you need.  And I apologize to anyone that I have made to feel uncomfortable with my candor and detail about this journey of ours. It’s part of my life, so I am getting more comfortable being brazen, although I know it’s not always the case for those who haven’t experienced it.

And if you are now thinking back on all of our conversations and wondering if you ever said something insensitive or offensive, please don’t! I have extremely thick skin. Sometimes, I try to get offended about things, and then I forget about them the next day. It’s too much work for me. But, please realize that many others (that you may not realize) are going through the same hell as we are, and they may not have thick skin. So, watch what you say. Which is probably a good life motto in general. A lot of “conversation topics” are none of our damn business.

Miscarrying our baby was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. But out of it, I gained such an appreciation in the Lord’s timing. The Lord doesn’t want me to have a child right now. I have so much more faith in His plan for me. It still sucks and I still have nights where I cry myself to sleep. But, looking back, I probably wouldn’t have finished my undergrad if we had gotten pregnant when we first started trying. I wouldn’t have been able to be promoted to my last job at Vivint and met all the amazing friends that have changed my life for the better.  We wouldn’t have had all the one-on-one time that we’ve been able to enjoy these past 3 years. And while I like to think that I’ll still travel all over once we have kids, I know that we wouldn’t have had nearly as many trips these past few years if we had gotten pregnant. Obviously, I would trade all of it in a heartbeat. But I trust that the Lord knows what He is doing. He knows what we need better than we do. Hopefully, by making us try so hard, we will be better parents than we might have been.

My love goes out to all of those with any amount of experience in this category. It’s a shitty ordeal, and no one deserves to go through it. I’m always here for anyone that needs someone to vent to or who has any questions. I’m not much of a let’s-talk-about-my-feelings girl—I’m more of the publicly-announce-it-on-your-blog-so-that-you-don’t-see-the-look-of-pity-in-their-eyes type. But I consider myself a pretty good listener. And I’ve had a taste of your pain. So, let’s be friends.

No blog post is complete without pictures.

Just a couple of kids

After my laparoscopic surgery. Sometimes I'm so photogenic.

All the drugs that go into making a baby.

Post egg-retrieval. Ouchie.

First time getting sick in a year, and it happened on the day of my embryo transfer. Brought a barf-bucket to the appointment. Real classy.

Bet you didn't know this is how you really make a baby...

The two transferred embryos. Such cute little guys!

Your eggo is prego.

Our little bundle of cells

Baby in that belly!

Yes, that's my bum bum. But look at the size of that needle! And I had to inject DAILY for the Frozen Embryo Transfer.

Feel Goods

Are you sick of me whining that I live on an island and that I get to see my husband every 3^rd Tuesday? Or are you sick of me bragging that I live on an island and my husband is the hardest worker I know and oh, so sexy? I am too, so this is completely off topic.

I’ve been into horoscopes lately. Not like I’m obsessed or anything, but do you ever find yourself thinking, “Why in the hell does this person act the way they do?”.  Or, you see a couple and wonder, “How does their relationship even work?” and “Thank goodness that BYU exists, so that these two weirdos could find each other”. Well, I do—quite often actually (psych major in the house). And then, because I can’t feel good about actually spying on them, and because I’m an above average stalker, I research Facebook for their birthday and start reading their horoscopes. I realize I will now be blocked from people’s information on Facebook. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. But let me tell you, these readings are probably extremely accurate since they’re on the Internet. And since it’s scientifically based on freethinking people and planets and stars. Those are just stellar combinations (get it?). But it’s actually pretty entertaining. I started out looking at mine and Billy’s readings and I liked what it said about us, so naturally I’m hooked. We are both Aquarius, in case you were wondering…yes, really, just like all of the coolest people you know! I then looked at my sign related to my ex-boyfriend’s signs and it kind of nailed down exactly what happened in all of my failed relationships. They were the ones in big, red, bold letters—worst relationship matches EVER!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a very logically minded person, and I realize that most of what is out there is crap. Although, after doing numerous empirical studies, I've come to the conclusion that my mother is, in fact, psychic (I'll post about this another time). But it’s kind of really fun to do some soul searching and hear these phrases about how your personality is supposed to be and think “yes, I’m kind of like that” or “no, I’m not like that at all” or “I wish I was more like that”. It’s not anything to base your life around or make important decisions on, but it does provide some introspection, which we could all use, every once in a while. And it fills up my rainy days quite nicely. I know. I really need to get a hobby.

In all seriousness, introspection could do the whole wide world or world wide web some good. I think that we too often feel we are always right and the qualities that we possess are the most important ones to have. It gets worse with social media, because there are all sorts of articles out there about the best way to parent, the best ways to have sex, the best ways to think, and the best ways to drink a pumpkin spice latte. But if we take a step back and look at our actions and see them in relation to the person we want to be, I feel that it gives us a better perspective than simply “liking” everything that we agree with. If it were me writing all the articles, I would say “The best way to drink a pumpkin spice latte is to throw it down the drain because pumpkin is disgusting unless it’s in a pie with a whole carton of cool whip”. What I’m trying to get at is that we are all different and we are all trying our hardest to do the right thing. But maybe YOUR right thing isn’t the same as someone else’s right thing. So, let’s all try to understand issues from other points of view and stop with the bashing and trolling and overanalyzing and assumptions. Because frankly, I’m exhausted by all the negative posts and opinionated rants. And yes I realize that this is an opinionated rant, so sue me.

http://unearthedcomics.com/comics/love-me/

PS: I wrote this post before LDS General Conference, when I was feeling really down about all the negative vibes coming from my computer. But then, today I’m like on top of the world, and wondering why I ever got so upset with humankind. So, either General Conference is the bee’s knees and can change your whole perspective on life, or I’m bi-polar.

So, incase you missed General Conference, here are some things to cheer you up:

The Honorable Thomas B. Griffith (aka my dad) was made into a bobble head.

Suck it, Utah-in-the-fall.

I'm sure you have already seen this video, but I watch it 4 times a day.

Tried to make potatoes with greek yogurt the other night.The one on the left is plain greek yogurt (which is great in potatoes), the one on the right is vanilla greek yogurt (which is not so great in potatoes). Lesson learned--quit trying to be healthy and just add sour cream. And my friends are liars because they said the potatoes weren't that bad.

Have I mentioned we own a scooter in the middle of rainy season?

Have a great week!

Ode to Bilbo

Today is a pretty fancy day in my life. 7 years ago today, Billy got home from his 2-year LDS mission serving in Mexico City. 4 years ago today, Billy asked me to marry him in Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco and I said "yeah". So, October 1^st is one of those forever-good ones. No matter how bad my menstrual cramps are kicking my trash. (Sorry I said menstrual in my ode to you, babe). And no matter how long Billy has to stay on campus tonight. And there’s no way it could be ruined by a torrential downpour starting as soon as I hang my sheets up to dry on the clothesline. 

Because I’m so grateful for that punk. I’m grateful that I didn’t know him when he came home from his mission (from what they tell me, he was pretty awkward with his chipped teeth and sermons about not watching TV on Sunday). I’m grateful that I met him at a time in our lives when we both needed to turn things around. I’m grateful that he challenges me to become better by not putting up with my crap. I’m grateful that we both love Tosh.0.  I’m grateful that he works so hard at school to do something that he loves. I’m grateful that he wants to travel the world with me. I’m even grateful when he shoots my trip ideas down because we don’t have the money.  I’m grateful that he laughs at me when I'm taking myself too seriously. I’m grateful that we love the same sports (even if I can’t quite get on board with watching EVERY SINGLE NFL and NBA game. But at least he’s over his “not watching TV on Sunday” phase). I'm grateful that in spite of my dilapidated fallopian tubes, we have been able to have so much time together--just the two of us. Life is just so much fun with this guy.

***If I show up dead in the next month, it's because he murdered me for posting this***