The Test

Yesterday, my husband had to go into the clinic’s Audio Visual room to provide a “sample”.  It’s all part of the process of finding out why we keep losing our babies.  I’ve already had several sonohysterograms, internal and external ultrasounds and blood tests.  There are more to come and we’re hoping to have some answers by the end of next month.  The dreaded answer is, “no answer”.

I’ve ALWAYS known that I wanted children.  For me to go through any kind of testing is a no brainer.  I will do whatever it takes.

For my husband it’s different.  Before meeting me (like many men) he hadn’t even thought about having children.  It meant a lot to me when he told me a few years ago that he wanted to have children with me.  It meant that I could keep him.

For him to go to the clinic and provide a “sample” was a big deal in my eyes.  I know it’s difficult, awkward and inconvenient.  Maybe that doesn’t compare to the poking and prodding that I’ve endured but things don’t always compare.

I think this test serves more than one purpose.  It will rule out or bring light to any sperm related issues connected to our losses.  It also put my husband’ dedication to the test.  Considering the efforts we’ve gone through to conceive and try to carry a baby, the efforts and finances that we’ve put forward towards the adoption I had no doubt that my husband wanted a family.  This “test” confirmed that even further.   A+!


And Another…

I was feeling good.  I was patting myself on the back for having gotten my “teething” rant out of my system.  I was thinking about how proactive I am being about getting tested for everything (another Sono and a 3D ultrasound tomorrow) and moving forward with the adoption.   I was walking in the rain, getting healthy and fit again and on my way to get a pedicure (I reward myself with a pedicure every time my cycle hits… a way to look forward to rather than dread nature’s way of telling me that I’m not pregnant).

I take pride in my “feel good” moments.  I remind myself that there are more feel good than feel bad moments in a day. The sad times really hurt, it’s important to acknowledge to myself that things aren’t bad all the time.


Toes in the spa, I made the grave error of checking my email.  I did this mostly because I didn’t want to read a magazine about Snooki’s baby (seriously?).


Right there in my email was another pregnancy announcement.   I have never known this many pregnant people in my entire life. This announcement came out of left field (another sports analogy?). I wasn’t expecting this one.  These friends have one school-aged daughter and had twins about a year and a half ago (not the teething twins… SO MANY TWINS!) and now they’re expecting again!  I really thought that after twins the coast would be clear.

The twisted “the world revolves around me” part of my brain actually had the thought that they’re just “showing off” or “rubbing it in my face” by popping out all those babies.  The “woe is me” part of my brain says “no fair, it’s really my turn now, let me have a turn”.  The logical, educated, sensible side of my brain knows that I should be happy for them and that this has nothing to do with me.   If only these brains knew how to communicate with each other!

I am going to go back to patting myself on the back.  I did not cry.  I did not dwell on it for hours.  I will probably sleep tonight.  Small victories.  This is progress. (But seriously…no fair.)

“Teething Sucks”

I never know what is going to set me off.  There are some things that I think will make me upset that don’t, and other “triggers” that unexpectedly fill me with sadness.

I read another blog the other day that mentioned the “dangers” of Facebook.  Pregnancy announcements, ultrasound photos and adorable “belly” photos that can pop up in your news feed and change the course of your day.  I’ve managed to wrap my head around this and block the feed of the stories can’t handle following.

Yesterday, my system foiled me in an unexpected way.  My husband’s best friend is the father of the twins that arrived within weeks of my first due date (twins I am still not ready to meet).  Yesterday his update read, “teething sucks”.

I had put him and his wife (a good friend) back on my Facebook feed hoping that getting used to seeing photos of the babies will help me build up the nerve to eventually meet them (this process is a whole other story).   It isn’t easy.  I usually skim over the adorable photos quickly and move on with my life.

“Teething sucks” affected me much differently.

“Teething sucks” is a complaint.

I’m going to write the response here that I would NEVER write there.

“Losing babies sucks.  Having no family sucks.  Having a “spare room” sucks. Panicking about Christmas when it’s only September sucks.  Having to avoid your friends because their babies make you cry sucks.  Wondering if you’ll be approved for adoption sucks.  Straddling stirrups and getting 8000 blood tests in hopes to figure out why your body is rejecting your babies sucks”.

I hate feeling so angry. I hate feeling bitter. I hate feeling so sad

I’m sad to be reminded of the milestone that I “should” have been complaining about right now.  I’m sad that by the time I have a child in my life I’ll be so freakin’ grateful that I won’t even have the nerve to publically announce or even admit that any part of it “sucks”.  I’m sad that choosing adoption inevitably means that our child will have already passed this milestone before ever joining our family. That child won’t have had the comfort of a mom and dad who will wake up and make them feel better 12 times a night.  I’m just sad.  I feel robbed.

I’m so glad to have this blog.  I’m so glad to have connected with people who don’t think I’m awful for thinking these things.  I’m glad to know that I’m not alone in being happy about the new chapter that’s started but then simultaneously sad about what I’m going through.  I’m glad to have a place to get it all out of my system so that I don’t dwell on every horrible thought.

“Teething sucks” for me too.

Why I Changed Family Doctors



I went to my family doctor in July to get my medical forms completed for the adoption.  An in-depth physical is required to complete an adoption.  I assume they want to make sure you’re “built to last”.

Dr. “T” has been my doctor for a few years now.  She has always been “ok”.   It is difficult to find a General Practitioner who is accepting new patients, I thought I was lucky to  have found a female doctor who works near my home so I stuck with her.

My last visit to that doctor was in July of 2011.  I went to see her because I was pregnant.  I did the appropriate tests to confirm, booked my 12-week scan and was told to think about where I wanted to deliver.  (I yearn for the innocence of that day).

Over the past year, I have lost three babies, been to specialists and had D&Cs at the hospital.  All of this “medical” information has been forwarded to my doctor.

When I went for my physical she did not mention anything about the pregnancies. As a routine part of the exam, she asked me when my last period was.  I replied “April”.   This confused the doctor and she asked for an explanation.  That is when I realized that she hadn’t even opened my file.  She didn’t remember that I had been pregnant and she didn’t know about the losses and all of the poking and prodding that goes with them.

I was so insulted and so sad.  It would have taken her two minutes to flip through my files before I came in.

There had been other issues that contributed as well.  She wouldn’t take my husband as a patient.  She he listed him as “Caucasian” on the first ultrasound file (she never even asked me about his race – Asian, not Caucasian!).  She only accepts cash and writes receipts by hand (not a computer in sight).  All of this seems insignificant, but in combination was enough.

I knew it was time for a change.

I was lucky to get a lead on a new doctor from my sister-in-law.  A new clinic was opening up just down the street.  We were able to sign on together to a family doctor.  If the adoption goes through, she will happily help with the process and take the squirt on as a patient as well.  The clinic has a great team, modern clean offices, computers and emails!  Our doctor is young, kind and really helpful.  She has gone out of her way to make things easier for us including just now phoning me at home to clarify something for the form because I was not able to miss work for an appointment.  I’m very excited about this fresh start.  It is decisions like this that make me feel like I have some control over a situation that otherwise has no control.

In a time that feels so dark, every ray of sunshine really counts.

A Bad Liar (alternate title: Yummy Cheese Dip)

I was caught off guard at a party on the weekend.  Two women (one acquaintance, and one total stranger) were discussing how huge they were when they were pregnant.  They had both had molds taken of their pregnant bellies and were trying to decide whose was bigger.  I was just in the middle of patting myself on the back for not being upset by the conversation when one of the women asked, “Have you ever been pregnant?”.

Now this was tricky.  This through me for a loop.  Usually the question is “Do you have any children?” and I’ve programmed myself to answer a polite “hopefully one day” or “not yet”.    Her question was different.

“Have you ever been pregnant?”.

Maybe it was the glass of wine or just the pure inability to lie but I found myself saying, “Three times, but they didn’t work out”.

WHAT??!!!!   As I heard it coming out of my mouth I couldn’t believe myself.  Great.  Now I’m that lady that bums people out at parties?  This is not me.

Gladly, my little comment didn’t bring the party to a halt.  One of the women had already “heard through the grapevine” and wasn’t surprised by what I said and the other was completely unfazed.  They gave me a wink and a squeeze of the hand, told me not to give up and offered me some cheese dip.

I’m not sure if the lesson is, “don’t be a Debbie Downer”, “don’t drink wine” or “it’s ok to talk about it” but frankly it did feel a little better sharing it out loud.  I can live with it (and the dip was delicious).