Thankful

This time last year, I didn't feel that I had very much to be thankful for.  In fact, I spent a bit of time after Thanksgiving dinner, in my car, in my mother's driveway, crying.

This year, I still miss my Morgan and wish she was here with us.  But this year, I'm thankful for the gift of hope.  One week ago, we flew to Chicago for me to get a transabdominal cerclage (TAC).  Though I  am shuffling around with a sore belly, I now have real hope that I can carry a baby to term.  This is the first time I've felt this way in a year and a half.

While I'm laying in bed, with plenty of time to think, I wonder if I'm not being overly optimistic.  Shortly after we scheduled the surgery, I bought two little onesies, one pink, one blue, online.  And this weekend, I crocheted the sweetest little yellow baby sweater.  A little premature, but that's OK.  I like to think it's no different from the Pinterest board of baby items I started collecting before we even started trying the first time.  My perspective will likely ebb and flow over time, but to even think that I have a snowball's chance of a "normal" pregnancy is more than enough to be thankful for.

Halloween

I've never been much of a Halloween person.  But this year, I've though a lot about Halloween and dressing Morgan up in a little costume.  This would have been her second Halloween: the first where she could "kind of" go trick or treating, and probably the last where I could dress her up as something totally adorable.  I figured by next year, at almost two and a half, she might have some ideas of her own.

Last year, the time from Thanksgiving to New Year's was pretty sucky.  Hopefully, this year won't be so bad, or last so long.  It's hard walking the line between the disaster that has defined my life thus far, and being optimistic that there could soon be a next time and things will change for the better.  Bouncing back and forth is tiring, though.

Worry wart

Every day after work for the past week, I immediately turn on my computer and check a specific email account, as well as the insurance company's website.  Why?

In early September, we had a phone consultation to determine whether a trans-abdominal cerclage was an option for us to help me carry a baby to term.  After deciding it was the right thing to do, I scheduled myself for surgery in November.  The surgery is just over three weeks away, and my insurance pre-authroization hasn't been approved.  So, I'm nervous that they won't approve it.  In addition, three weeks is cutting it close when you're traveling out of state.  Many ladies on Abbyloopers, a site dedicated to info on this procedure, have the same insurance, and had no issues.  Worries, worries.

Anxious and worried that it won't be approved.  Anxious and worried that it won't work.

To Be a Fly on the Wall

Remember several years back when MTV had a show with the tagline, "You think you know, but you have no idea"?  I think it was called "True Story".

Yesterday, I went to spend the morning at a knitting/crochet event.  I opted to sit at a table with a younger woman and her older companion.  Well, the younger woman (Tattoo Chick) was pregnant and talking to her friend (Purple Hair) about the upcoming baby shower.  No big deal, didn't bother me at all.  Tattoo Chick goes on to discuss how a mutual acquaintance of theirs had stopped speaking to them after their pregnancy announcement, but was now speaking to her and her boyfriend again.  Turns out the mutual acquaintance has PCOS and has not been able to conceive a child.  Tattoo Chick and Purple Hair proceed to go on an on about how it's this third woman's own fault she can't get pregnant.  You know why?  "Because all you have to do is go to the doctor."

Infertility has not been my struggle, but I do know it's a little (!) more involved than just going to the doctor.  Overhearing this entire conversation just pissed me off, from start to finish.  No wonder the friend stopped talking to Tattoo Chick.  Tattoo Chick and Purple Hair also went on to say the friend probably wouldn't be a good mother, anyway.  I, of course, don't know these two women or their "friend", but I could just as easily say that a woman with tattoos all over her arms, chest and neck with barbells hanging out of her nose isn't a good mother, either.

So here I am, sitting there with my pregnancy loss awareness ribbon on, stewing in my own juices.  I felt bad for the friend, having to put up with these know-it-alls who are lucky enough to pop out babies like gum balls, telling her how easy it is to get pregnant.

See, they think they know, but have no idea.

A Breath of Fresh Air

I mentioned a few weeks ago that we were considering a trans-abdominal cerclage.  Today, we had a phone consultation with Dr. Haney in Chicago, and it really was like a breath of fresh air.  Compared to that awful postpartum appointment this same time last year, today's discussion was like getting fresh air after nearly suffocating.

All day at work, I was excited to speak with him, almost as if he was going to hand us a baby over the phone.  In the minutes before I dialed, my stomach was in knots as if going for a job interview.  Worse, actually.

Dr. Haney was very friendly, and explained everything clearly.  Most importantly, he saw no reason for couples to have to jump through hoops and lose 3 or more babies before "believing" a woman has an incompetent cervix.

The (Anti) Grief Diet

In the three weeks after we lost Morgan, I lost about 15-20 pounds.  I'd been wanting to lose the weight I gained in graduate school (about 30 lbs.), and in  this terrible twist of fate, VOILA!  At the time, I told my husband that at least I wouldn't be a "Biggest Loser" sob story.  Every season, they have a contestant who has suffered an extreme family loss and gained lots of weight after.  There I was with two of the classic weight gain excuses: grad school and death.

Flash forward a year, and not only did I regain those 15 or so pounds, but they brought along a few friends.  Once I started eating again, I really started eating, and an extraordinary amount of those calories came from pure-d-sugar.  I mean, really, I was denied my daughter, was I really going to be denied a brownie (cake, cupcake, doughnut), too?

But on Monday, I officially turned over a new leaf.  Apparently, public accountability motivates me.  My department at work started a "Biggest Loser" type wellness challenge running through November 1.  But it's not their prize I'm after.  I want to be as healthy as possible when we're ready to try conceiving again.  There are going to be many things out of my control, but my weight and physical fitness are entirely in my own control.  I want to fit into the myriad of clothes in my closet, rather than the handful of things that currently fit.  From a vanity perspective, I don't want the doctor to have to heave my belly fat out of the way if/when I have the TAC surgery.  And, tight abs pre-surgery will help the recovery go faster!  I'm tired of feeling sluggish and tired.

So, anyway, here's my public declaration.  The grief and pain of losing Morgan has made it easy to let myself go, physically and emotionally.  But, now, I'm getting my self and sense of self back!  I'm officially on the anti-grief diet.  The girl in this picture is coming back!

Me, fall 2007.  A bit extreme, perhaps, but it's doable!

Only a Husband

I used to have a blog called 'Only a Husband'.  It was for all of those little things C does that are not fuss-worthy, but certainly not the way I would do them.  After only 3 or so posts in a year, I took it down.

Anyway, I had one of those moments today.  After losing Morgan, I immediately started my research to learn more about what incompetent cervix was, and what could be done about it.  I found out about a procedure called a trans-abdominal cerclage, which is when the surgeon places a loop of suture at the junction of the uterus and cervix.  The procedure is similar in many ways to a C-section, without actually cutting the uterus.  As the stitch is meant to be permanent, it requires a C-section delivery.  I told C about this, and we both felt it was pretty extreme, though I could see the allure in such a procedure.  Fast forward to last night, when I decided to send an email to one of the few doctors in the country who does this surgery on a regular basis.  Just to see what he had to say.  At first, C seemed upset that I'd sent the email.  But, oh boy!  This morning, when I forwarded Dr. Haney's response, his tune certainly changed!  Now, after reading the doctor's repeat of the things I'd already said, he's almost 100% on board with us flying to Chicago for this surgery.  Now, I don't have MD behind my name, but  folks do call me Dr.  I understand where he's coming from and that he's worried about me in surgery, but c'mon! Give me a little credit in deciphering the situation!

I know his heart is the right place, and his hesitance comes from concern.  This is just one of those 'Only a Husband' moments.