Lies, damn lies..

So, here I am trying to move forward, and things keep coming up that just knock me down. So the latest was the itemized hospital bill. And that was an eye opener. There were things on there that just did not make sense. Sutures, Tissue Culture, Skin Biopsy, and some other little ones...

So WTF?!? Sutures would be used if there was a laceration to the cervix from their damned toothed tanaculum, or from instruments cutting it. But the OB's surgical reports state nothing on the subject.?!?

Skin Biopsy? What? That was listed as $861 some odd dollars, and completely does not lign up with having a D&E! There was a seprate charge for the "level 4 microscapy examination" worth $210. And then the genetic analysis was there for $1221.00 So what Biopsy?!?! Skin? Where? What the F?!??!

Of course I can't call the OB's office, since OB is no longer there. So what then? I called the Hospital and the billing woman had no clue, but told me she would look into it.

So yet again, here I am left with the feeling of WHAT THE F HAPPENED TO ME!!!! DH feels that they are "just padding the bill" but I am left with the WTF moment! He was not the unconsious one, with someone sticking metal bits up inside! He is not the one that cannot easily check to see if everything is fine! It is my body, my frustration!

So we had "words" and a cold shoulder night. I truly feel that most people have no way of understanding what it is like, to have moments of your life just missing, to have to trust people you have not a single reason to trust!

My face in that of others...

I am reading a book where the main character has isues with hospitals. She sees herself in the faces of the people there. I can relate. Never put it to words, yet I feel that dread, that feeling as if I will be in that position. And already in my life I have played the role of helpless patient. It is a feeling that haunts you. To have your life completely out of your control. To face ones own mortality. That tody may be the last, or even worse, that this may be the last day of your life as you know it. To leave damaged. Each surgery leaves it's mark on ones phisical and psychological self. Scars may be little, or not even visible on the outside, but they are there, forever a change, forever altering. Phisiologically, it leaves holes in your life. Moments of time that you will never remember. Taken from you as the anesthesia consumes you. Time when you are unable to control the most primitive functions of being human. Time when you are laid bare, no way to protect yourself. No doubt the trauma to the psychological self can easilty outweigh the body damage. Yet has this been addressed? Does anyone care?

Results

Well, the results are in.

First off, the results were XX. So my August 09 baby would have been a little girl.

And the results. Again, just like the rest of my life... ambiguous.

They found a structure abnormality with chromosome #5. I was told that "they have never seen this before, and don't know what to say. That it was not a trisomy, but abnormal structure. That they "think" it was an isolated problem but asked if we have been karyotyped."

Yes we were Karyotyped without any "abnormalities" in 2004.

So OB's office does not know what to say. They feel that no genetic counseling is requried, since they do not know what to make of the results. That it is not an obvious seen before problem.

So how does that make me feel? I do not know.. I feel like I am left with partial information. What the hell is a structural abnormality? The Nurse could not answer those questions.

I looked up chromosome 5 abnormalities, and not a whole hell of a lot out there. But I did see that there are cases where chromasome 5 sometimes breaks and then re-forms into a circular structure, which is a fatal error.

I also did read about a disorder called le Crie-du-Chat syndrome, where children born with abnormal chromasome 5 have all these physical and mental problems, the name is french for the characteristic newborn cry that sounds like a cat screaming... Wonderful image...

So I do not know what to think. I am still glad that this was the last picture of the puzzle for this whole event, and now moving forward is a bit easier without anything looming over my head. But as for the meaning, or if I can make meaning out of it... Well, I can't. I don't know what to think. I will be getting my medical records, so hopefully I will be able to dig a bit more out of the actual report, but I bet not..

In the end, what does this mean? I have no genetic results for the previous five, so I have no way of knowing if this is a recurring error or what. It must not happen all the time, since I DO have ONE child without any obvious chromosomal issues...

So again, left with the "just keep on trying" and the "if we try enough times, statistically one will work" But how many more losses, more surgery, more bleeding, more mental misery must I endure to get that one more? I do not know.. Might be none, might be five... I just do not know...

Service? Anyone?

My OB's office service sucks!!!

I had a voice mail on my cell phone this am from a nurse at my OB's office. To call her back. First, I do not get service on my cell phone at work. So I call them back.

I get the triage nurse voice mailbox. I press 0 to get the receptionist. I get the receptionist voice mailbox. That was at 11:30am. I call again ten minutes later, receptionist finally answers, tells me she just sent the message down to the nurse, and she will call me back.

Ok, back from lunch, it is now 1:05pm. I call the OB's office, go straight to receptionist. Tell receptionist I have to change the phone number where nurse calls me since I will be at work, and cell phone does not work. She gives me nurse's voice mailbox. I leave message.. Please call work number before 2:30 since I will be away after that time at a meeting..

Now 1:35, and NOTHING.

This is how they handle life altering news!! WTF!!!! I will never deal with this office again. Ever.

So still waiting.... Anxious as all hell. I had a lunch date with DH. It was stresed filled at first. I had some crappy meetings all morning long, and then with the phone call stuff... It sucked... But as lunch went on, we laughed, joked, and reaffirmed that we are moving, moving forward.. Thank god for DH.

A day without spot!

Wow. Lets celebrate! I am actually back to wearing just a pantyliner! WOO HOO!!! And not a single spot on it! Just about 14 days post surgery. Always feels like you will be bleeding forever when you are in the midst of things.. But somehow you come out the other side, and wow, I don't have a phone book between my legs anymore!!

I honestly feel the D&C ended up being the right decision, the OB was great (wow, I know one that actually was great?!?!?, oh and did I fail to mention she left the practice for the boonies Maine last week?) and seems to have been the fastest way to recovery. She really did honor my wishes it seems and did not scrape the crap out of me, which is nice.

So where am I now? Trying to build up my strength, (thanks Floridax!) and keep going. The next few weeks will be tough with tons of EMS stuff, and travel for work, so that will keep me going..

I guess I will be posting less here, as my life starts to move to a new normal, but it has been nice to get this shventa out. I will be residing at my original blog www.octarinelife.blogspot.com but will probably continue to post any TTC journeys here. Hopefully this rollercoaster will someday bring me to the next hill, one where I can welcome the arrival of a new family member. But even if this rollercoaster has more valleys and dark tunnels (ya know the ones where you are upside down) I vow to keep riding this, eyes wide open!

Still have the results of the genetic testing to deal with, and I have requested my medical records from the surgery and my OB's office, so I am sure there will be stuff that needs to be processed there.. But...

HERE I COME LIFE, Ya have not kicked me down more than I can kick back!

New Normal.. here I come!

I am finally starting to feel a little bit more like myself. I have been able to get out of bed earlier without too much complaint (hey, I never was a morning person). And find that my energy level is getting better. Still have an odd cramp here or there, but even the bleeding is more like a yellow/brown spotting.. Just have these odd left side pains, if I was not post pregnancy, post surgery, I would write them up as O pains.. Ya know, that sort of irritated insides sort of feeling.

I think the hormones are finally starting to stabilize as well, so that is nice. I still have some dark moments, but overall, I would say that for the last two days, there have been more upbeat moments.

It has been cold still, 20-30's but the sun has been out, and I have had the curtains thrown open so the light streams in, and with the daylight slowly getting longer, that seems to help as well.

Been doing some house cleaning, and that makes me feel better, nothing more brain numbing than vacuuming, and washing windows. Plus DH and I had some mommy daddy time last night after DD went to bed, the first time in a LONG LONG TIME. It was nice.. It was nice to have that part of our marriage back again. And it was just that much sweeter since it was valentines day. :) Sigh...

So I keep wrassling with the thoughts of trying again, and the self preservation of never wanting to go there again... But yet... I know sometime we will. Just trying to balance the sanity, with the fact that I am just getting older, and every month that goes by, I just get older, with all those statistics of "older moms" having more problems.. etc.. But then, common, I have already had "more" problems... WTF..

Oh well, off to find "a bag of food" for my "hungry girl" who is asking to eat a "bag of food"???

I was a good girl, right?

Some times I get mad that I was "good" when I was younger. I was one of the nerds that actually took to heart the watered down crap the biology and health teachers spewed in high school. Here it is.....

"Girls are born with all the eggs they will ever have. If you do drugs and alcohol you will damage your eggs and then there is nothing you can do! Not like boys who continuously make sperm"

And I bought that.. Hook line and sinker.. So ya know what, I was in the Straight Edge club! Was in the bible thumping, secret morning prayer group club. I did not sneak alcohol. I did not do the grass. I have never toyed with any other recreationals, because in the back of my mind I held to the belief that I have only one set! Plus I really did believe in the "I have to take care of my body because it is the only one I have" mindset.

And now that for some unknown reason I have BAD EGGS, and I am pissed about it! There is no good egg detector! There is no way to "test" to see if you have good eggs or bad eggs! No big sorter like in Willy Wonka! Nope! No F-ing way of knowing.. Untill you go to have children, and then you suffer recurrent losses!

It really makes me pissed off! I feel like if I had known that living the "prim and proper" life would still hand me a plate of green eggs, I think I would have lived more! Experimented more! After all what do I have to loose? More bad eggs?!?!?

It is just another example of thinking you are doing the right thing, and that if you live the good life you will be rewarded.. Um, raising hand here... Question... So what the F went wrong here!?!?!

The moral of the story, you can live your life and never intentionally do bad, and still get screwed over, put through the ringer, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

I do not want to hear about heavenly rewards either. They do not count! I like microwave dinners and instant potatoes!

Thoughts

Thinking, something my DH tells me I do too much of.. Helooo, I am a scientist?!? Kinda comes with the type A personality thing too!

I don't know. I never found out a way to turn it off, would be nice, to induce this sort of mindless state, where I just do things, ya know, make a pot of coffee, take a shower, use the pot, without even thinking? Like human autopilot. I think I would sign up for that every once in a while.

There are times in life where I think it would just be best to be in autopilot. Ya know, those moments you just need to somehow live through because, well, tomorrow just HAS to be better than this! It would be nice to just go autopilot, skip a couple of days, weeks, etc, and then Voila, wow, life is all shiny happy now!

I thought of hybernation, but who would turn you so ya don't end up with bed sores? Plus I have not found out if animals actually deficate, etc. while in hybernation, but I don't think I would want to do that in my bed! The other spectrum, of not having a BM while in hybernation, could you emagine that first morning poo!??! OMG What died in your colon!!!!

Medicated autopilot... Not quite as good as hoped. Something about being a zoner, the rest of your body wants to come along for the ride! Simple things like sipping a cup of hot beverage now become some sort of dangerous gamble! So out the window with that one.

So, up to this point, there is no solution to thinking... It just happens...

Post Surgical Appointment

I had my post surgical appointment. It was pretty lame. They took my weight, and BP, which is technically by the new guidelines HTN. Ya know they (the insurance underwriters, etc.) decided a healthy adult should have a blood pressure of 112/68. Gone is the 120/80, that is now early hypertension... WTF!?!?! I love this shventa, just like I looked at my BMI on that chart, and even though I know I could stand to loose 10 lbs, in order to not be obese, I need to loose 22 lbs!!!! Come on, if ya know me, I would be a stick figgure without any muscle on me... gag!

So the appointment consisted of the OB asking me how I was doing, I explained my bleeding pattern, and told her emotionally I crashed this past weekend, she told me the hormones should be starting to level out soon, and the emotional rollercoaster should calm down. Ya think? That would be nice. She also informed me that the Pathology came back already, and everything looked (normal) which means no worry of GTD (Gestational trophoblastic desease, aka molar pregnancy, etc.). She followed that up with the detaled genetic testing will not be back for two weeks at least. So waiting on that.

Wich brings me to the big thing on my mind.... Finding out if it is XX or XY... (heck I just called it an it... AAKKK). I think I have been trying not to think of this in any hard terms, it is more like as what my favorite author writes "an anthrophormorphic personification".. In my heart and soul, it was a baby, you know the pink cheeked chubby variety? So as my angel baby, that it what I see. And well, they are genderless!!!! I never really see them in my mind without the cute little diaper on! I have had feelings in the past that my losses were boys, but that was really with the pregnancies before DD. Not after. I just do not know if I want to know..

I also do not have names for my angel babies.. They are just angel babies. Giving it a definitive sex sort of messes that up somehow. Like now I have to think of a name.. When I do not want to pollute the memory of them with a name. To me names are for the living. To me names mean more about the person, when you say "you look like a Tom" it is because the name "fits". How can I name a life I never saw {ok, except for in the angelic diapered cherub sort of image?}. Yet to name it is to make it real. But my angels are real to me without a name. To me they are more like a date.. I don't know how that started, but they just seem like a numeric rundown...

10/2003 Angel
6/2004 Angel
12/2005 Angel (DD vanishing twin)
12/2007 Angel
4/2008 Angel
12/2008 Angel

The last one is hard to give a date for... I found out that it was not viable at the beginning of January, so I feel the date of 12/2008 is fitting, however as this blog has detailed, I carried the earthly remains of this angel till the third of February. But I feel I will keep the december date.

So I dread that call. I know I will find out, because I keep my own medical records, so I will have all of this on paper. But talking about it? Ughhhh.

In the end, the OB wanted to know what I wanted to do about birth control. And I told her that even though I will by all odds go through hell again, I do not want to give up. That we will try again, someday. So she did not push the BC isue. I told her that DH and I are well aware of how it works, and I have a pretty decent handle on my fertility (thanks to TCOYF), and well, seems we are also subfertile too, so the chances of us having sex and getting an OOPS is truly pretty low...

She gave me her "hug" therapy, and told me that the front desk will have her forwarding address, so I can send her my birth announcement in the future. Somehow this woman, this OB believes I will have another birth. That is encouraging, a little bit... :)

Natural Selection

Thinking about natural selection.

Ya know, the old "nature knows when things are F-ed up so that is why you miscarry them" statements...

And I look at my DD. I looked at her this AM as she was lying there still sleepy, and came to the conclusion that for some reason my body has decided to take weeding out to the extreme! I know she is perfect, but did I have to go through three "sub optimal" rejected ones to get a perfect one? What am I doing now? Making more bad ones?

I do not understand. I don't.

Monday, 7 DPS

Monday.. Another Monday.

So do I feel any "closure" from having surgery? Well, the feeling of waiting forever is gone.. And honestly I have been dealing with some pretty nasty emotions lately, but really feel these are due to the "hormone" crash of my body going from pseudo pregnant to bam, no more HcG for you!! HA HA HA...

The bleeding has been pretty signifigant since Friday.. I know my OB told me that since she did not scrape the shventa out of my uterine lining, bringing it down to the muscle layer (which is what they do normally and women have maybe pink spotting for a week or so, since there is NOTHING left to bleed), that I would shed the lining after the hormones dropped down like a "heavy period". Well, let me tell ya, my periods are all of three days normally, with maybe one day of dark bleeding. I have been bleeding bright red with bits for four days now.. It sucks.. I am glad she did not scrape the shit out of my uterus, since the chances of developing scar tissue is lower, but I really wish this would all go away soon.

Every trip to the bathroom is a constant reminder, the gobs of blood bring back the emotions that I must keep in check... Now there is nothing concerning, I have no fever, there is no rotten smell or anything, so I am sure there is no infection or anything like that, just that I had a D&C and a "natural" miscarriage all at the same time... LOOOVELLLY...

I am just anemic as poo, light headed half the time, and cold and chilled the rest. I feel like crap. I feel winded when I talk, and somehow I must go on, be super mom, be supportive wife, be the uber employee, and on top of that I got through 28 hours of EMT refresher over the weekend.. I am wiped..

So, that is my update for now... feel like crap, theme of my life...

What "counts"

Well, DH and I had a bit of a heated discourse last night.. I was tired as crap, anemic as all hell and crampin out big time.

Somehow I stated something about this being my sixth loss. And Rob stated, "why do you keep saying that!! This is really your third. The last two don't count, and you have Madeline".

I held it together. "What do you mean the last two {don't count?}" His reply "well they were so early, it was not much more than a late period, and well, everyone has those, heck people probably have those all the time and don't know they were pregnant, so to me they don't count".

At that point I did start to get a bit animated.. And I pulled this to question his logic.. "Well, I had a positive pregnancy test! That meant conception occured! Do you not believe life begins at conception?" And his response to me... "Well, nope, I think it really is not life for a couple of weeks, I don't know".

So now I was armed and pissed, that I carry on and mourn lives my husband does not even consider valid.. So I asked "So then by your logic women can choose to terminate these 'not quite babies' before your arbitrary lenght of gestation and that is OK with you?" I was not given an answer.

I was also pissed and stated I DO count the vanishing twin I had when I had Madeline as a loss as well. He does not. Feels that "She does not know about that" and thus somehow I must invalidate it because one survived? How do we know that she "does not know?" It is entirely possible that early on her soul touched the soul of her womb mate, even for a day or two. Who knows what that leaves behind in ones soul? How can you calculate, measure, prove, that?

I know that maybe this is his way of coping, maybe to him a total dead baby count of three is easier for him to deal with than the fact that we have had confirmed by blood tests with or without ultrasound six conception events that ended up not surviving. I think he thinks that six dead makes it "too damaging" or something.. But to me I will honor the lives I nurtured for however long they were there, six minutes, six hours, six days, six weeks, etc..

THEY WERE LIVES!!!

And yes, six is damaging, but by ignoring them will not make the pain go away, it will not change the fact that I went through this hell. Maybe that is it? Maybe since he was not the one to have that life within their body, that he just could never understand? I do not know.

Saturdy, 5 days post surgery

Well, what to write...

Yesterday was a dark day for me. I went back to work for the first time since surgery, and it was ok. Some of my co-workers knew about my situation, but they were not there, either on vacation or out sick. Others just knew I had some mystery spontanious surgery. So when I informed them it was surgery for complications due to the loss of my sixth pregnancy, I then recieved pained faces from people who were probably thinking TMI HERE!!! and then OMGWTF DO I SAY? It is so sad that our world clouds these things in such a shroud of shame, of feelings of somehow we are not supposed to talk about the pain, the hurt.

One co-worker thought I was out with the stomach bug.. When I told him that "they don't hand out Vicodin for stomach bugs" and followed it up with why I was out, I at least this time was shown a face truly tormented by pain, and not knowing what to say.

Then I had to face pregnant women... It was like I had some sort of magnet attached to me. In the lunch line to check out, across from me is the most obvious pregnant woman in the tightest shirt I had ever seen (HELLOOO it is like 6 friggin degrees up here! Why are you wearing barely anything! Put some f-ing clothes on!!!) and then the conversation with the checkout lady "WOOOWW, so not much longer now huh!" Followed by the "Five more weeks! I am so tired of this, I am so over being pregnant..." At that point I think I started to hyperventiliate, I was just about to drop my tray and run when finally I noticed the check out lady was waiting for me and oh sooo miserable sucessfully pregnant woman was out of sight..

I then sat down and was eating at our group table when others joined in. Somehow we started talking about really bad names, ya know the ones like Chauchie and stuff that just is like "whatthefuckwasyourmommathinking?" And one woman leans back to show of her rotund gravid belly, and announces "WELL that is not on our list". Again I felt a spate of hyperventiliation and heart palpations building...

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!! I do not need anymore reminders! I do not want to see how miserable you are carrying a LIVE baby! Honestly I don't! What I would give to have a live baby within me.. Yet there is nothing I can give, and nothing I can pay, or no one to pay that will fix that!!!!

I was having a rough day to say the least. So finally after finding that I did not bring any of my contraband zanax to work with me, I decided to leave.

I could hardly make it home, I was a mixture of so angry I could piss fire, and then a depression so deep it felt like I was in the pit of some hellish nightmare. I could not help it I got home and cried, and cried and cried.. That was about the time the cramps picked up really bad and I started bleeding clots and dark red blood.. (Ding, here is the 3-4 days post surgery where my hormones crash and I start to shed what was left of my tattered uterine lining, just as my OB predicted would happen). I just wanted to curl up into a ball and die... Instead I tried getting a quick nap in with my Robbie Blanket.

I had to be up by 3:30 so I could get to Concord for my EMT refresher course that was running from 6:00pm to 10:00pm. The first of a three day training as part of my reciprocity for my EMT licensure.

So put the emotions behind me, got out the directions and off I went.. Just like so many other days, bundle the pain, the loss into a neat little package, and keep going...

Just keep moving...

Hi all. I am really not doing well today. And honestly do not know what to write. I have started to write on my blog on and off for the past two days, but cannot get too far into it before I start to either get so anxious it feels like my heart will explode, or so emotionally down I want to cry and tear my hair out.

As for the surgery part, it is done. OB was actually wonderful, caring and compassionate, so was the entire OR staff. The Anesthesiologist was nice, and everyone listened well to my past hell experiences and vowed to take better care of me. Overall, I was scared S-less, but managed ok. They did not "put me under" until I was in the OR on the table as requested, and I just remember falling asleep to the lights above me. There was no talking, no radio, just two nurses holding my arm, sholder. It was peaceful. I woke up in a considerable amount of pain and their motrin did nothing for it. So OB ordered me some vicodin, which helped. Ob took time to come talk to me afterwards which was nice. she told me everything went as planned, and that she only did a gentle scraping, so I may have increased bleeding in 3-4 days when my hormones drop down. And we waited a bit, and then went home. There is more too it, and I am trying to get it all down in my blog, but that is the basics..

So I went home and stayed home from work for two days, and took the vicodin for the first 24 hours and then tried weaning myself onto the motrin. Overall, the bleeding is light, and the pain is there, more of a dull reminder of the hell I have gone through more than anything else.

It is just the emotional side of things. I do not know if it the combonation of the loss, the buildup of the fear of surgery, the sudden changing in my hormones or what, but I am a mess. I do not want to be alone.. I hate having time to "think".. My OB told me that when the testing is done, they will call me with the chromasomal analysis results, and I will know if it was XX, or XY.. I think that set me over the edge...

I even though surgery was less traumatizing, I am left with emotional hell, I still have thoughts about my cervix being "damaged" and have nightmares while awake and sleeping of the actual proceedure (none of which I was awake for, so it is just my tormented mind replaying the cold textbook facts). I just do not know how to get it to stop!!! I feel like crying and then the pain comes again for some unknown reason..

I am left not knowing what I want to do.. I am not in a good place to consider the future right now, but part of me is broken. Feeling like I have now lost six babies out of six pregnancies, and have only one live child.. Feeling like I am broken even when I am broken, requiring two D&C's to end pregnancies that my body would not let go of. A c/s for the one pregnancy that did survivie... Why? I want more children, but I do not know what to do? I have no path forward. We have used an RE who has no answers, and lost three pregnancies with her. I have used traditional chineese medicine and acupuncture, just to loose that one too.. I have no more roadmaps for the future. I have no more battle plans.. I am at a loss. I have no tools to save myself from more pain and suffering..

SO that is where I am, dealing with the emotional aftermath of loss and surgery. NOt a good place, and despirately trying to find some way to climb out of there..

Surgery

Well, here I am post-op, so I will try to write down all the events of Feburary 3rd.

I did not get much sleep, Madeline was sick all night long and required constant love and attention. She was a bit febrile and with her stuffy head was having a bad night.

We got off to a late start in the morning, and things were a bit rushed. Rob took care of Maddie and getting her ready for school. I hopped into a shower to get cleaned up and ready to go.

We pulled the car seat out of Rob's car to leave at the daycare so if my friend had to pick up Madeline, she could. We dropped Maddie off at school which was just down the road from the hospital. I hugged her and told her I loved her and I would see her soon. She had no idea that I was not going to work today.

Rob was being a good guy, but really needed a cup of coffee. So we stopped at D&D. I was driving and told him to spare me the suffering of having nothing to eat or drink since 6:00pm the night before, so he went in without me. We drove up to the hospital, I was listening to "Grandmother Moon" one last time.. {Find me, guide me, stand beside me}. We parked on the top deck of the parking garage. And made our slow walk to the hospital. It was starting to flurry out. Light flakes of pure white.. I wanted to stop and just put my hand out, to feel the snow on my hand. I am so numb inside..

We had to go through the physicians office building and then all the way across to the main hospital building. My surgery was to be done in the Inpatient surgical center. We arrived at around 12:30 or so, so a bit early for my 1:00 appointment. We registered and I filled out my living will and advanced directives. The patient liason nurse came out to tell us that they were running a bit behind, but I should only be about a half an hour later than scheduled. I was a nervous mess. I was trying to read Rob's trains magazine. They announced a Code Blue somewhere... Rob asks what that means... CPR in progress.. And then about three minutes later, they call and cancel the code.. So I could not help it... I announce "I ain't dead yet!" In my best monty python bring out your dead voice... Rob hits me.. Rob decides to call my firend and tell her to pick up madeline since we will be running late.

Soon another nurse comes out to get me. I don't want to stand.. I want to run. I hold out my hand to Rob. They tell me they need to prep me and they will go out and get him so he can then sit with me until I go in for surgery. I hug him and walk in with the nurse. I go to the bathroom and they weigh me in. They ask me my name, birthday, and why I am here.

I go back to a pre-op room where I take everything off except my "johnny" as they call the skimpy thing that shows off my ugly ass. I am given a pair of socks to wear at least. The nurse comes back in and starts asking all the typical questions, alergies, last time I ate, etc. Takes my temperature, puts the blood pressure cuff on me and gets a pulse ox reading. She also puts on a set of compression devices on my legs and hooks them up to an air pump. I hate the itchy plastic, the uncomfortable squeezing like a cheap massage..

Another nurse comes in, she will be with me pre- and post op she states. Another woman comes in and starts slapping the shit out of my left hand. Cleaning it with at least two diffrent cold solutions. Then she sticks my hand in two places with some sort of lidocane solution and it burns like hell. I start to cry. I can't help it. I do not want to be here! I do not want more pain! They finally dig around and put the IV catheter in my hand, trying to sooth me by saying "now, it is only a peice of plastic in there now" LIKE THAT MAKES IT F_ING BETTER SOMEHOW? It should not be there at all! They pump up the flowrate and it feels like someone is pushing ice cubes up my arm. The nurse informs me that they will be giving me a pre-surgical antibiotic, and an anti-inflamatory so that it will help with the "cramps" I will feel afterwards. I wanted to scream "Cramps my ass! Try getting kicked between the legs and then having an elephant stomp on your stomach!"

I told the nurses about my horrible past experiences, where I was treated like crap, where I was told I would not be intubated and woke up coughing up blood clots, bruised from ear to ear and told I was "fighting them".. They seemed like they were horrified that I was treated that way. That they would not treat me like that. I told them I was terrified, and that I suffered PTSD after my previous surgeries. The nurse told me that they would give me something to calm me down once the Anesthesiologist saw me, and that it had amnesia inducing meds in it, and all would be better. I panicked then. I told her I did not want it. That big black holes in my memory is what gives me the worst PTSD. She told me to tell the Anestesiologist that.

Waiting was forever. Rob came back and sat with me. I tried finding something on TV to watch, but nothing good was on. I was watching the news and the headline "woman has kidney removed through vagina" comes on.. I exclaimed, Oh wow! Yet one more thing they can f around with our vagina for! Woo hoo! Can't they stay the heck out of there!!!



Seemed that we were waiting forever. The nurse started the antibiotic in the IV and adds the "anti-inflamatory". Soon I hear Dr. O outside the curtain. She is talking to someone and then her and the anesthesiologist comes in. He tells me that he has heard from all the nurses, and Dr. O about how bad my previous experiences were. They ask me to confirm why I am here. I remark " I am here for the merry maid service, a vaccume and sweep, with hopefully better service". At this Dr. O cringes, but the Anesthesiologist laughs and tells us a story about his seeing Merry maids in a small car, smoking like chimneys and driving like maniacs.. So we both agree to stay away from Merry Maids... I am truly tired of saying why I am here. Each time I have to come face to face with it. A D&E! I know they have to ask me so I do not go home with an amputated leg or anything, but still... I hate having to say it!!!!



Dr. O tells me things will be alright, and that she will come out and talk to me at the end. And then she dissapears. The Anesthesiologist asks about my previous experience. I tell him about my D&C, where I woke up choking on blood clots, and bruised from ear to ear. He asks what teaching hospital I was at. "Princeton Medical Center". He tells me that was unacceptable, and he will make sure I am completely asleep. That there is no need for me to worry about fighting them or anything, that I was not given enough medicaiton, and what they did was wrong.. I tell him about the Anesthesiologist at my DD's cesarean, when he exclaims "I did it on the first try!" again the Anesthesiologist is horrified and asked what univeristy hospital that was.. "Robert Wood Johnson".. He then remarks it was a good thing I got out of NJ because they were butchers down there!!! No Shit! Years of PTSD from that crap!



He seems really nice, and takes time to talk about himself, and how he is from Staten Island, and went to school in Ithaca, and spent lots of time up in Rochester. DH and I told him we went to school in Rochester. He was calming, and soothing. I took comfort that he would be there with me.



So a little bit more waiting, and soon the OR nurse came in, introduced herself to me and stated she would be with me through the whole thing in the OR. On went my beautiful hairnet. Unplugged my snazzy air stockings and the Nurse told me they would be giving me the meds to make me forget now. I told them no. not yet. I held Robbies hand and kissed him goodbye. On the way to the OR Dr. O stopped me, I had to sign one more sheet of paper. She looked all worried about it, and I knew what she had to explain. She started by saying, "after they do the testing, they need to know..." and I replied " I know, I have heard the cold medical language before, I am used to the callous medical world. The products of conception can be disposed as medical biohazardous waste." The nurse pats my hand and replies "well, we are not all that callous". I signed the paper..



I was wheeled into the OR, and asked to move over onto the operating table. They made sure my gown was not under me. I had to lign my ass up with the crack in the table where they would take down the bed. I was given another warm blanket as they placed the EKG leads on my chest. I was told they were giving me the medication now. I asked if they were going to tie my arms down, and they told me after I was asleep. They folded my arms up under the blankets on my chest. I had one nurse holding my right shoulder, and one holding my left. Another nurse put what felt like a 30LB weight belt across my stomach. I looked up into the numerous bright lights, with my glasses still on, and closed my eyes.



I woke up lygin on my back, moving. I moaned out, I HURT! I HURT! Then that was followed by " IAM WET!!! Wet!" as the nurses were busy around me, hooking up the compression stockings again, and my IV had come loose, the IV fluids were running down my arm. I curled up into a ball on my left side, as the nurse took off the O2 mask. My hands pushed into my stomach. I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach, and my left hip felt like it was pulled out of the socket. The nurse announced she was giving more pain medication, and I closed my eyes again.

I woke up to the nurse at the foot of my bed having a conversation with another nurse about signing some paperwork from two days ago. They were discussing whether or not she should sign it. After one walked away, I started talking to the nurse about why she should not back date documentation. I explained how the FDA looks at GMP documentation, and why if something was missed and caught upon review, that it must be documented as such, and that it can be explained that the action being documented was completed as documented, but signed at a later date. We had a breif conversation about this, with her talking about high error rates, etc. And then I just looked at her and stated "Looks like I am lucid huh? sorry, I deal with GMP documentation issues all day long."

So She started getting me ready to go back over to the post surgical area so that I could be with DH. Another set of vitals, she asked if I wanted the rest of the pain meds in the syringe since she would just throw it away anyways. We both agreed that waisting pain meds is wrong, and she topped me off. It really was not anything good anyways. I asked if any of the good stuff spilled when my IV leaked. She said no.. Just saline.. Phew... That stuff in hospitals is like $200 a hit!

So off came my air pants, and it was off to the secondary recovery section. The nurses moved me into this sort of lazee boy chair and propped me up in that. Soon DH was there with me and holding my hand. They brought me some toast and a cup of coffee, which was the first thing I had eaten in over 12+ hours. Toast never tasted better! I was still having considerable pain in my belly, again the broad diffuse pain like getting kicked really hard by an elephant. Plus my hip still felt horrible on the left side. Burned like it was torqued wrong. Probably how they put me up into the stirrups while I was unconsious. Wonderful image huh...

Dr O comes in and tells me everything went as expected. That she was as minimal as possible, so to expect my recovery to be diffrent. She stated that I will have light bleeding, but in about 3-4 days, when my hormones crash, I will shed the rest of the uterine lining. So this told me she did not scrape the shit out of my uterine wall. If she had, which is the typical process, I would only have light bleeding for a short while, since there was no more tissue left to bleed in there. That made me feel better, because i was concerned with scar tissue and damage to the uterine wall. After all this is uterine surgery #3 now..

She decided to give me Vicodin since I was uncomfortable and gave me a script to bring home. She gave my DH the death ray look and explained that I was to put NOTHING in my vagina for two weeks. And that she would see me for the post op appointment. To schedule it for her last day with the practice, Feb 12th. She looked tired, and I was her last surgery for the day. She was great with coming to talk to me post surgical. Previously I never saw the doctor. They called my family in the waiting room, but never bothered to talk to ME about ME! It was really nice she took the time out to come back and talk to me.

So soon it was time to go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, pull on my pants, clothes, have DH tie up my shoes, and get ready to go home. It was like 5:30-6:00 so it was good that my friend picked up DD from daycare. By the time we stopped to get the perscription, it would be late.

As I was waiting for DH to make the long walk back to the parking garage, and then drive around to the ER entrance I was talking with my nurse. We were talking about my experience in EMS, and she about hers in nursing. We talked about how there is a lot of burnout, and a lot of crap, stress, and nasty people we deal with. But we both agreed that sometimes, there is that one event, that one person that makes it all worth while. That keeps us going even though 99% of the time it sucks. I asked for a list of the people who dealt with me so I could keep it in my records.

She wheeled me up to the ER entrance, and DH had pulled the truck around. It was sitting there running, a light coat of fresh white snow had fallen all around. We saw DH dash into the Er entrance. The nurse decided to help me into the truck since it was freezing and I only had a flannel on. After she helped me up and in, I took hold of her arm and stated " I just want you to know, that today, you did make a diffrence in my life. Thank you." and she looked as if she would cry, she replied with "thank you" and then closed the door to go find DH. I found my pillow and blanket, and put the pillow under the lap belt of my seatbelt. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to cry, to go to sleep forever.

Soon DH was back in the truck and we were on our way. We stopped for my perscription, and I also picked up some of those therma care heat wraps for PMS. Thank god.

I got home, and DD was busy watching TV, and then was clammering to see DH. So my friend helped me get my shoes and jacket off and then up into bed. I pulled on my PJ's and wrapped the heating pad around me, and passed out.

So that was that. A better story than my first time, but still shitty in essence that i had to endrue it in the first place. I feel that I was respected, listened to, and well treated. So on the scale of traumatic, I would say a 3-4.

Midnight... The last day of waiting

Midnight.. Here i sit. Unable to sleep.. Numb all over.

I have taken the long bath. Lots of special bath bomb from my favorite goat milk soap place. I sat there, stewing in hot french vanilla water, trying to read a book "Your roots are showing" while my Christmas present candle burns next to me. I ate chocolate, truffles, yet somehow... Did not seem to ease my mind.

I put new sheets on the bed, and put on the new quilt I was given at Christmas. Nothing eases me more than a nice orderly bed. But somehow it was not enough..

My heart aches. I will never know why my journey is the path that it is.. I will never know why I have been chosen to suffer, suffer the loss of children. Suffer physical pain, suffer through fear. A fear so strong, I shake.

My mind reels with emotions, thoughts, blurring together as I sit here, hours away from voluntarily having my body made unconscious. Walking to yet another cold metal table. Putting my vulnerable self bare to the world of medicine with their needles, IV catheters, dialaters, curettes... It seems like some horror show as the items flash before me. Cold medical pictures from textbooks.. Items made of cold hard steel, with horrific intentions, poke, scrape, tear, force.

All to force my body to relinquish it's hold on a life that just will never be. No amount of hope, no amount of prayer will change this path. And no amount of faith in my body will change the fact that my body has let me down again. Again I have created a broken life. Again my broken body will not do what it must. I must endure a forced removal of what my body cannot accomplish on it's own.

My husband told me something really sweet today, as I am in the middle of a downward spiral. He told me no matter how "broken" my body may seem to be, that I have one really good part. A heart and soul that out shines any other part of me. And that he loves that part, and that part is what is me. Not the broken bits.

I wish I could love that part and forgive the rest of me....But I can't. I can't accept the broken bits that force the rest of me, my mind, my soul to live a tormented existence. Haunted by the lives I could have nurtured. Haunted by the angel wings on babies that I have never held, although I have given my heart to.

I try to find the good in life. To say what I have somehow scraped out, a wonderful daughter who is my reason to exist. Somehow that one life has to make up for all the holes in my soul. Tonight as she lay sick in my bed, all I could do was stare at her. Her perfect eyebrows, her little nose.. And I cry because I have failed her. She may never have a baby brother or sister. She may have to play alone her entire life. No sisters or brothers to share birthdays, Christmas, or life's joys and sorrows with. I feel like I am dooming her to a sad existence without companionship. I never wanted an only...

I am scared shitless of tomorrow. Be it irrational, but I am. I will be giving myself up to these strangers to care for me, when I do not trust. Because trust is earned, and I have yet to have a medical professional I completely trust. But somehow I must surrender, I must close my eyes, dream of a happy place, and let my body be assaulted.

In the book "A women in residence" she calls the end of a D&C "the cry of the uterus" it is a feel, a texture of the muscle wall when all the interior lining has been scraped and suctioned away. My uterus will cry, as it is yet again damaged, damaged in the pretext of doing good.

I worry about the future consequences this will have, yet I am at a moment in life when I worry I will have no future use of my uterus. A barren dead zone. I worry if I will ever be able to do this again. To try again... How much must I endure? How much suffering must I go through? How much physical pain and bleeding before life will be better? Maybe six losses is not enough, maybe I am doomed to loose more, never have another.

I cannot sleep.. Yet I am exhausted. drained to the core of my being. I have been fighting for weeks now. Trying to keep going, to somehow push my loss, my mourning, my pain to the back, in hopes of a good outcome, my body resolving this on its own. Yet now, after 30 days of waiting, I can no longer keep up these appearances. I am crying. I am broken. I cannot go on carrying a death of a dream within me. Without any idea when my life will ever be able to start to heal.

Today I cried to Joanne Shenandoah's "Grandmother moon". I also find comfort in the words, which escape me at the moment, but are about the light of the Grandmother moon finding, holding, and guiding me. And that is what I want I want to fall into the arms of the Grandmother, I do not want to carry these burdens anymore. I do not want to carry these star children with me, tearing me down. But I cannot find the path.. I do not know how to let go of something that has been there for so long. I do not know how to let go of my dreams, desires. It seems that my dreams and desires are attached to my pain and losses. How can I cut that tie? How can I free myself from pain?

My mind spins as my body shakes. I do not want tomorrow to come, yet I need tomorrow. I need to move on, and this is the only path forward. It is hell to look down the path in front of you, one full of fear, pain, out of control, and force yourself to walk it. To tread through lands of darkness, some days so dense that even breathing seems to be impossible. Why? Because I know that i must walk this path, that somehow on the other side, life will continue. I wish I could write that on the other side is some sort of great reward, when my suffering will be replaced by joy, and that all my dreams will come true, but I am a realist. And quite honestly I do not know what the other side of this path holds for me, may be more pain and suffering as the path's I have taken previously brought me to. But I must walk it.

I must keep going. I must walk this path...

Why?

Because I refuse to give in. Because I have been beaten down, but I still smile at the sun. I still love the moonbeams on my bed at night. I still love the sounds of birds in the spring. Because somehow I love this F=ed up life! Because I can not forgive my broken body, but slowly accept that it is not that bad.. Because I DO have one blessing that was given to me. And I need to be here for her. No matter what my life brings to me, I have a responsibility to her. To teach her all I have learned in life, to hope and pray that her life will be a kinder, gentle life. To do all I can to give that to her.

Well, half a box of kleenex later, and past my NPO cutoff, I somehow have to will my body to sleep... Because tomorrows journey will be long and hard, but tomorrow's night I will rest.

Closure?

Well everyone, Things will be moving along in my life as of tomorrow.

After weeks of paitently waiting, I am emotionally unable to keep going. This weekend was the worst by far since this whole thing started.

I was able to see my OB today, and we did one more US just to make me feel better about things. My OB was hoping since i still have nausea, sore boobs, etc, that she would see a baby. I unfortunately did not share her hope. I just wanted to know that it was not some cancerous tumor or anything..

And just the big black hole was there.. Nothing else. No worry about molar pregnancy, etc, but no sign of any bleeding, anything in there either.. So we have scheduled me for the D&C surgery tomorrow. Time undetermined since I am an "add in".

I am at peace with this as much as I can be... I honestly feel that I have tried everything. Herbs, time, etc.. But for some reason, my life journey is supposed to take another path.. Why I do not know.. What the implications this has on my future, I do not know...

I am of course scared S-less about surgery, but I am comforted with the knowledge that my OB is kind, caring, and gentle. She is an experienced and skilled OB. She reassured me that NO ONE but her will be touching me, and that helps a lot since I had pretty bad PTSD after my first D&C. She gave me the spiel of risks, etc, but also told me that in all of her experiences the complications are very rare.. So that makes me feel somewhat better, even though I know enough to make me worry.

Next hurdle is meeting with the anesthesiolog


Well, that is my update. Soon I will be able to change my ticker and say I am moving on with life...

Keep me in your thoughts/prayers tomorrow Feb 3rd.

I will update when I get a chance and feel emotionally able to.