No, I'm not pregnant. However, I do have renewed hope that I may some day have a healthy, term pregnancy. Last week, I had a large uterine septum corrected. Basically, since birth, I have had a large wall of fibrous tissue splitting my uterus in half. Until this fall, I believed that I had been struck by lightening twice - two pregnancies, two disastrous and unexplained endings. I believed my doctors when they told me there was no way to know what caused Patricia's death at 31 weeks. I believed them when after two sonograms in between pregnancies, they said it was safe to try again and that the odds were in our favor. I believed them with they told me Anna's birth at 26 weeks was due to incompetent cervix, another condition I had no risk factors for...you get the picture. Basically, they were all wrong.
When I was 6 weeks pregnant with Anna, I went in for an early sonogram and the technician remarked that she saw what looked like a bicornuate uterus, or heart shaped uterus. This was not seen during any previous sonograms, neither pregnant nor non pregnant (of which there were three). I was concerned, but my doctor assured me there was no causal link between bicornuate uterus and stillbirth. Though it went on to cause me a great deal of anxiety during my pregnancy with Anna, since I was already pregnant, there was nothing we could do but wait.
After Anna was born, my doctor recommended an x-ray procedure called an HSG to confirm the shape of my uterus. However, I was required to wait until my cycle returned to ensure I wasn't pregnant (ha!) and this didn't happen until July of this year. When we determined through HSG and 3D ultrasound that I actually had a uterine septum and not a bicornuate uterus, my doctor was shocked. She said it was a miracle either girl made it so far because the miscarriage rate is so high. However, the septum is overwhelmingly likely to be the cause of both Patricia's stillbirth and Anna's prematurity.
At last, we had an answer! I took it hard. It was nice believing that what happened to both girls was not my fault and could not have been prevented. While I understand that this condition was not my fault, it is extremely difficult to process the idea that Patricia's death and Anna's early birth and subsequent issues could have been prevented with an easy, 45 minute outpatient surgery.
I had the procedure, a hysteroscopy, done by an experienced Reproductive Endocrinologist. After the surgery, he said the septum was larger than he expected but he believes he got it all and a second surgery won't be needed. It was almost too easy. I had no pain, very little bleeding, and was out in time for brunch! I am so thankful that the "fix" was so easy, but I am still working to let go of the anger. Patricia's death, and a literal lifetime of pain for Anna could have and should have been prevented.
I truly believe that our family will benefit in so many ways from the addition of a little brother or sister (or both!) for Anna, and I hope that we will get the all clear to begin trying soon.
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
September 29, 2014
September 11, 2013
Being Selfish
When Patricia died, I was amazed the world continued spinning. I had a hard time understanding how life could go on when our family had suffered such a tragedy. One of the normal feelings I experienced was anger. At the time, my intense anger made me selfish. I believed that because I lost a child, all of the other things in my life should be easy. Everyone should be nice to me, after all, don't they know I just lost my daughter? Unlike some people who prefer to grieve privately, I wanted people to go out of their way to make grand gestures of kindness and support. Looking back, I know it is because I felt the more people did for me, the more they were acknowledging Patricia's life and how much it hurts me to live without her.
My husband felt similarly. In fact, after Patricia died, he began playing the lottery. Our three birthdays make a perfect five-number pick and our anniversary month and day is the same, hello Powerball number! The year she died, her due date of May 30th was a draw day and I'll admit to being genuinely surprised when we didn't win. After all we suffered, we both felt we deserved something wonderful to come our way. (17.5 months later, we still haven't hit the jackpot but my husband continues to faithfully buy tickets!)
My feelings just after Anna was born were similar, though not quite as intense. The following is a story often seen in online Preemie communities I am a part of:
How Preemie Moms Are Chosen
(Adapted from Erma Bombeck)
Did you ever wonder how the mothers of premature babies are chosen?
Somehow, I visualize God hovering Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
“Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint…give her Gerard. He’s used to profanity.”
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. “Give her a preemie.”
The angel is curious. “Why this one God? She’s so happy.” “Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel.”
“But does she have the patience?” asks the angel.
“I don’t want her to have too much patience, or she’ll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off, she’ll handle it.
I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I am going to give her has a world of it’s own. She has to make it live in her world, and that’s not going to be easy.”
God smiles. “This one is perfect. She has just the right amount of selfishness. “
The angel gasps, “Selfishness! Is that a virtue?”
God nods. “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she is to be envied.
She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says “momma” for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it.
I will permit her to see clear the things that I see – ignorance, cruelty, prejudice – and allow her to rise above them.
She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.”
“But what about her Patron Saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles.
“A mirror will suffice.”
My husband felt similarly. In fact, after Patricia died, he began playing the lottery. Our three birthdays make a perfect five-number pick and our anniversary month and day is the same, hello Powerball number! The year she died, her due date of May 30th was a draw day and I'll admit to being genuinely surprised when we didn't win. After all we suffered, we both felt we deserved something wonderful to come our way. (17.5 months later, we still haven't hit the jackpot but my husband continues to faithfully buy tickets!)
My feelings just after Anna was born were similar, though not quite as intense. The following is a story often seen in online Preemie communities I am a part of:
How Preemie Moms Are Chosen
(Adapted from Erma Bombeck)
Did you ever wonder how the mothers of premature babies are chosen?
Somehow, I visualize God hovering Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
“Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint…give her Gerard. He’s used to profanity.”
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. “Give her a preemie.”
The angel is curious. “Why this one God? She’s so happy.” “Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel.”
“But does she have the patience?” asks the angel.
“I don’t want her to have too much patience, or she’ll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off, she’ll handle it.
I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I am going to give her has a world of it’s own. She has to make it live in her world, and that’s not going to be easy.”
God smiles. “This one is perfect. She has just the right amount of selfishness. “
The angel gasps, “Selfishness! Is that a virtue?”
God nods. “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she is to be envied.
She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says “momma” for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it.
I will permit her to see clear the things that I see – ignorance, cruelty, prejudice – and allow her to rise above them.
She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.”
“But what about her Patron Saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles.
“A mirror will suffice.”
The first time I read it, I was (surprise!) angry. My religious beliefs are a post of their own, but I do not believe a God allowed Patricia to die, nor directed Anna's premature birth. However, what the story says about the necessary selfishness of Preemie moms definitely holds true for me. My selfishness allows me to ask for what I need, accept the help others offer, and realize that it is okay to feel sad about what Anna is facing while at the same time loving and appreciating her.
August 2, 2013
Feeling Grey
Sometimes I get really low. My husband and I have termed this "feeling grey," as if a storm cloud is directly above me, following my every move. At this moment in time, I'm not there, likely because I had some wonderful snuggle time with Anna this morning. However, that could change in a second. I try not to play what I hear others call the "pain olympics" because I know everyone has a battle to fight, but I feel that I can state objectively that the past 16 months have been incredibly difficult for our family. Our lives have changed, our marriage has changed, I have changed. Some of the change in me will likely be for the better, though I'm not ready to consider that yet. Unfortunately, my journey as Patricia and Anna's mother has also brought deep-rooted feelings of anger and envy.
I know these feelings are normal after the loss of a child and after any traumatic and unexpected end to a pregnancy, including premature birth. I suppose I am writing this to let other women know that these feelings are normal, because they can also be very isolating and damaging to relationships. I am ashamed to admit that on more than one occasion in the past few weeks even, I have said aloud to my husband that I hate my life. This is not true, but when the tidal wave of grief hits, it often destroys everything in its path. I am only able to think about what I have lost. For Patricia, an entire life. For Anna, the dream of a typical childhood.
I feel safer when I am in my little family bubble (see this post). I miss Patricia every day and fear the unknown future with Anna, but the dark feelings are more likely to stay away when I can live in the moment. Alas, we must live in the world and this can be rough. For example, I have a very difficult time seeing pregnant women or hearing about their pregnancies. Social media has made this tough but I will say that if you are pregnant or have young children and you are not a fellow loss mom, you are hidden from my Facebook feed. When I see pregnant women out and about, it is often hard to control my emotions. Sometimes I feel anger, and I want to scream at the woman how lucky she is. Sometimes I feel envious, and I wallow in my own self-pity and think about how it should have been for me. Sometimes I just feel sad that I have lost my innocence about pregnancy.
I was surprised that it is not just pregnant women who are triggers for me. I also have trouble celebrating the joy of others. This one is also somewhat shameful to admit, but it is the truth. For example, recently we attended the wedding of a close friend of mine, a fellow sorority sister. She has found a fantastic husband and father for her young son, and I am truly happy for them. I am also crazy envious. Listening to them take their vows brought back memories of the start of our marriage, when we were so naive and full of hope. I miss those feelings. It didn't help that we left Anna at home and there were other babies there, one of whom was born only days after Patricia's due date. A painful reminder of what we should have. Looking at the adorable little girls dancing around the floor and wondering whether our Anna will ever walk was too much. Thankfully, my husband felt the change in me and we said our goodbyes early.
Time is not a magic fix for these feelings, but I do hope the intensity will fade in the years to come. I will not retreat from the world, but I will continue to seek out others who can provide support and understanding and hope that I can be of some help to others who find themselves on similar journeys.
I know these feelings are normal after the loss of a child and after any traumatic and unexpected end to a pregnancy, including premature birth. I suppose I am writing this to let other women know that these feelings are normal, because they can also be very isolating and damaging to relationships. I am ashamed to admit that on more than one occasion in the past few weeks even, I have said aloud to my husband that I hate my life. This is not true, but when the tidal wave of grief hits, it often destroys everything in its path. I am only able to think about what I have lost. For Patricia, an entire life. For Anna, the dream of a typical childhood.
I feel safer when I am in my little family bubble (see this post). I miss Patricia every day and fear the unknown future with Anna, but the dark feelings are more likely to stay away when I can live in the moment. Alas, we must live in the world and this can be rough. For example, I have a very difficult time seeing pregnant women or hearing about their pregnancies. Social media has made this tough but I will say that if you are pregnant or have young children and you are not a fellow loss mom, you are hidden from my Facebook feed. When I see pregnant women out and about, it is often hard to control my emotions. Sometimes I feel anger, and I want to scream at the woman how lucky she is. Sometimes I feel envious, and I wallow in my own self-pity and think about how it should have been for me. Sometimes I just feel sad that I have lost my innocence about pregnancy.
I was surprised that it is not just pregnant women who are triggers for me. I also have trouble celebrating the joy of others. This one is also somewhat shameful to admit, but it is the truth. For example, recently we attended the wedding of a close friend of mine, a fellow sorority sister. She has found a fantastic husband and father for her young son, and I am truly happy for them. I am also crazy envious. Listening to them take their vows brought back memories of the start of our marriage, when we were so naive and full of hope. I miss those feelings. It didn't help that we left Anna at home and there were other babies there, one of whom was born only days after Patricia's due date. A painful reminder of what we should have. Looking at the adorable little girls dancing around the floor and wondering whether our Anna will ever walk was too much. Thankfully, my husband felt the change in me and we said our goodbyes early.
Time is not a magic fix for these feelings, but I do hope the intensity will fade in the years to come. I will not retreat from the world, but I will continue to seek out others who can provide support and understanding and hope that I can be of some help to others who find themselves on similar journeys.
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