I’m Not Pregnant Anymore

After a miscarriage the pregnancy hormone, HSG, can stay in your body for up to a month. A month that, for me, meant morning sickness, sore/sensitive breasts and nipples, frequent urination, fullness in my stomach-all of the joys of the first trimester of pregnancy.

The first trimester came and went and now I’m officially no longer pregnant.

Tonight, in a friend’s house, a friend who has a beautiful baby girl, I took a pregnancy test and only got one line. And because we’re in a weird phase of the TTC cycle I didn’t feel upset that we weren’t pregnant, I felt relief that I wasn’t any more.

For over a month I went through the miscarriage process. 2 D&Cs, 3 rounds of mispopristil (sp), acupuncture sessions and herbs all trying to expel the lifeless fetus from my body. For over a month I isolated myself. For over a month I wondered if my relationship was over (Leah did not handle the miscarriage well at all-and that is the understatement of the century). For over a month I wondered where I would live, how I would survive. I thought about death, my own. I thought about life, the one that was lost. For over a month I laid in bed, I wept, I starved. For over a month I spoke to no one.

And through it all, some how, mostly guided by a trip to NYC that was planned months before we knew we were pregnant, I have found myself again. I am laughing. I smile easily. I enjoy the company of other people. I feel alive again. I feel like myself again.

I have on new glasses, they’re crystal clear replacements of the rose-colored glasses I wore through this TTC process. They are glasses that know that I may not get pregnant (some women don’t). They are glasses that know that I may miscarriage again. They are glasses that know that whatever happens, I will be ready.


Chapter Closed

Today I went to Swedish in Seattle for another (successful) D&C and this Chapter of my life. Pregnancy #1 is now closed.

There’s a lot to say. Lots of feelings. Lots of planning, but I’m just looking forward to actually being able to properly heal and properly grieve this loss.

My Midwife is all of a sudden worried that my fibroids will be a “problem” which is interesting because they were never problematic for my RE in Brooklyn, but that worry is for another few months.

For now, I’m just here. Watching from a distance as some of your bellies continue to grow. Holding space and prayers of strength for those of you whose path has gone astray as mine has. And hopeful joy that one day I’ll hold a baby all of my own in my arms.

Gonna take some time away from the blog to re-group, but/and THANK YOU to all of you who have supported me both on this blog, offline and in real life.

Still Nothing

Tomorrow makes one week since we found out Bean’s heart has stopped beating. And despite two rounds of misoprostil (sp) I still haven’t miscarried.

Tomorrow I take a third dose.

Today I had some light spotting and light cramping and that’s it.

I’m honestly not sure how much more I’m going to be able to withstand.

Where We Stand Now

A few weeks ago WordPress told me that I’ve been blogging here for one year. It was not the kind of anniversary I wanted to remember. As lesbians we’re aware that our journey to mamahood is filled with bumps, twists and turns. The path is never straight (no pun intended) and how and when we get to our destination is unclear. Some of us get there quickly and some of us get there in a year or two or three. While still some of us never reach our destinations in the way that we’d hoped.

Since my sister died and I lost my job and tried to find a job while supporting my fiance in the completion of her dissertation (she’s Dr. Fiance now!) I’ve not done a great job of taking care of myself. I’ve eaten my grief and stress and when I took my first run (we signed up for the NY Pride Run) I upset an old foot injury.

Thank Gd, I’m employed now, with a good salary and good insurance that starts on June 1st so we’re still on track for the polyp removal surgery and probably another HSG, but I’m feeling an extreme amount of guilt for not taking better care of my body in these months of our break.

Like a lot of women I have a storied history with food; in my teenage years I was naturally thin and fit into size 0 without trying. When I gained the freshman fifteen in college and girls around me deprived themselves of food I tried it too. I’d click through pro-anorexia links and “ate” warm water for a semester or two before giving into my body (and need for food) and tipped the scales all the way to a size 16. Today I hover between a 12 and a 14, but according to BMI and my doctor I’m on the verge of obesity.

But you know what? I don’t care. I know dropping a few pounds would help us out, but I really don’t care. My sister is dead and that still hurts every day. It still hurts to talk to her boys, to see their mirror image faces of their mother. Yesterday my mother called bawling and wailing, “my daughter is dead!” over and over and I felt guilt that I’m so far away from my family when they’re still in so much pain.

So I eat yummy yummy things (and drink yummy yummy wine.)

I’ve started tracking my steps daily and have been averaging about 750 burned calories burned simply doing my job. One of the reasons I like retail management is that I get to “work out” while getting paid. This week we’ve been eating fairly healthy meals and once I get the ok from the doctor about my foot I’ll be back to training for our run. All of this and I still feel a bit of guilt and a twinge of worry that it won’t happen for me right now.

So I asked Leah if she wanted to try first. She just finished the Brooklyn Half Marathon, bikes to work and is in much better shape than I. So maybe it’s not my time. Maybe she should try first.

It’s what we talk about every night these days. Do we try together. Does she try first and I take a year to get myself in a happy place again?

Perhaps a more pleasant detour is in the future.




sisters2It’s been one month since my sister died and it’s only getting harder. The first few weeks at home in Ohio were easy to deal with because wrangling three boys under 7 years of age tends to keep your mind occupied. The nights and mornings were the hardest, and sometimes seeing my sister’s face so clearly reflected in her sons brought me to tears.

Back in Brooklyn job hunting helped to occupy the spaces of my brain that would have normally focused on the things I miss about her, the things I wish I could have said, the future that could have been. But as the days turned to weeks and my resumes seemed stuck in a limbo of their own, my mind became more clear and thoughts of my sister and all that we had and could have had came flooding back.

My sister was:
Hilarious with an infectious laugh.
Incredibly talented
A smart-ass

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Worst Four Weeks of my Life

We had to cancel this cycle’s IUI not because I ovulated from the “wrong” side, but because my only sibling, my younger sister, lost her addiction battle.

I’m just back in Brooklyn after spending time at home with my family to say goodbye to my baby sis. It’s been a week since her memorial service and about 10 days since her death and while the pain has shifted slightly, it’s still incredibly surreal and completely unbelievable. It has, however, put a lot of things into perspective and strangely, I’m even more driven to start a family with Leah.

If you’ve pieced together who I “really” am then you can read more about my sister other places on the interwebs. I’ll probably expand more as time goes on, but for now I’m really focusing on getting my health on track. If anything, my sister’s untimely death has reminded me that life is too short. Please remember to tell the people in your lives “I love you” any time that you feel it. Don’t wait. Don’t hold grudges. Three simple words, you can’t say them enough.