Endings and beginnings

Yesterday happened as expected. Dear Leggy, thank you for clinging onto hope, but really there was none. I did have flashes over the last week of thinking we'd go in and there would be our embryo, heart beating away, but they were just flashes and I was fundamentally unsurprised when the sonographer's wanding showed a gestational sac that had started to collapse. It was long and thin like one of the balloons that you use to make balloon animals with. Only not orange or purple or anything. There was no sign of anything in it, the yolk sac from last week had already reabsorbed. The pregnancy had definitely failed. I got her to tell us our hcg result from last week. It was 9,100. Not really what you're looking for at 7w1d. So really, I think we could all have declared this over last week. No matter, this is the life (or not) we got and I'm not going to get angry at anyone after the fact.

We went up to the private ward to get checked in etc for our ERPC. It stands for the Evacuation of the Retained Products of Conception (that link is patient info from another hospital in the UK  - best explanation I found through googling). It's supposed to be more gentle than a D&C. Then of course we waited and waited. Turned out Dr Candour was in a consultant's meeting that morning so he didn't show up until 9ish to do our pre-op discussion. That was after the nurse had checked us in. During which she asked me if I was pregnant. Which I thought was a bit of a dumb question. And which, for a change, I actually said to her. Well, what I said was: "That's kind of the point, isn't it?" She had the grace to blush, and said, "Sorry, we have to ask everyone."

We also had a little drama in that it had not occurred to me to contact my health insurance company. After the nurse had found this out, the insurance lady bustled up to my room and told me: "You know you must call them to get pre-authorisation before you come in, this really isn't the right way to do things." Luckily I remembered that in February when the insurance co had authorised the wrong date for my lap we had called them that day and they'd been good at sorting it out, so I pointed this out to her, told her she'd have a letter in the files from them from February with all the contact info on, and that my company has a dedicated line to them so presumably I could call them and we'd get it all sorted. She went off to get the letter and I burst into tears. She didn't come back at any point during the day so I assume she got it sorted. Insurance ladies aren't famous for letting you leave the hospital - or even have the procedure - until you've paid.

When Dr Candour turned up he was his usual calm, kind and reasonable self. Which of course made me cry. He hadn't seen the notes from the clinic so I told him that everything looked bad. He was, of course, not surprised, went through the procedure, the risks etc. The anaesthetist was also very kind. It was the same woman who'd done both of my laps, and she remembered (from the notes presumably) that I had problems with dehydration so she told me to keep drinking water until we had to go for the procedure. Which wasn't until around 11:30. So we waited. At around 11:10 a junior doctor came to tell me she was going to insert a drug which would start to soften the cervix. She was, to put it mildly, cack-handed. That made me cry a bit. After that I started to get mild cramping and at 11:30 they wheeled me down to theatre. In the prep room I started to cry again. Not sobbing, just tears running from my eyes. It just all felt so sad. Although I'd started to give up on this pregnancy two weeks ago, I guess it's not really over til it's over. Dr Candour came out to see me again, and after all the prep I was put under at about 11:40. At 12:15 I was waking up in recovery, and by 12:40 I was back upstairs in the room, and H was there waiting for me.

As always after a general my mouth felt horrible, and no matter how much water I drank it wasn't helping much. The nurses were very sweet to me, and H kept asking if he could get me anything. He was trying to work but gave up and watched the tennis instead after a while. I felt ok, just crampy. They kept giving me painkillers, but told me I had to eat before I could have the good stuff. That was encouragement enough so I ate a sandwich at about 13:30 and got some di-hydro-codeine shortly afterwards. That made me feel a bit better. At this point I wasn't really teary any more. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was a relief that things were over.

Around 14:45 Dr Candour came to see us. He said that everything had gone well. The uterus wall looked good and smooth afterwards so he was confident I would not need a second ERPC (happens in about 8% of cases). He also said that everything looked very sterile and intact, so he did not think I had suffered from an infection that caused the embryo demise. He had sent samples off for histology and genetic testing. I asked if they really had enough for genetic testing given we couldn't see any embryonic tissue on the scan, and he said he didn't know but it was worth trying (This is where I get a little cross about the delay. Presumably we'd have had more chance of finding something if everything hadn't already deteriorated. Oh well). The histology scan will see if there was a problem with blood clotting etc. He asked us to make an appointment to see him in about 3 weeks, when he'll have all the results back and we can make a forward plan.

I had been freaking out over the last few days about whether I am kidding myself even trying this again. At 39, having been pregnant only once in my life, and then with an embryo that had no chance of developing, I wonder about whether my eggs are just never going to make it. I saw that the chance of genetic abnormalities of the embryo at my age is 1 in 70. That's pretty high. So I asked Dr Candour whether he thought that was our chance, that we've had our pregnancy, it's not worth us trying again. He answered that the fact we got pregnant was definitely a good thing. That what they worry about most is lots of cycles of negatives with no sign of implantation. That it's implantation that is the biggest barrier to successful pregnancy, and one that they can do the least about - and the one they understand the least. So the fact we got implantation this time gets us over a hurdle, and, as far as he is concerned, makes it worth trying again. I can't tell you how much of a relief that was. I know that it is entirely possible that we won't get pregnant again next time, or that if we do, that we may have another miscarriage. I know that. But I want to try again so it matters that the doctor I trust to help us make that decision thinks it's worth it.

We were released at around 1600 with a packet of augmentin - prophylactic antibiotics. Unlike last time, the nurse in charge sent a junior down to the pharmacy to wait for our prescription, and wrote URGENT all over it so we didn't have to wait two hours. That was a relief. H and I got home fast and decided on gazpacho for dinner as it was another horribly hot day, and I thought it might work ok with how horrible my mouth felt. H went off to get the ingredients, and we then chopped and blended together. He did a bit of work and I watched a soppy movie. We had dinner (delicious. First time I've made gazpacho but totally worth it) and watched an episode of ER (not sure that was our best choice, but our next Lost episode is the one where you get the back story of the Mr Eko group and it looked pretty terrifying so I thought probably not my best option).

All evening I was mostly doing ok. Each family member texted me which was nice. I wasn't teary. I felt sad but not bereft. I was bleeding a bit but not too much. Dr Candour told me that a little light bleeding might continue all the way to my next period. Around 10 I went to bed and read some more of my fantastic chick-saga type novel that I'd carefully selected last week. No pregnancies, just lots of family feuding and delicious jewels. Then I slept. With a fan blowing because it was so bloody hot, but I slept and I don't really remember the dreams. I slept a lot better than the previous night when I kept waking up with Imelda Staunton singing into my subconscious "maybe they're really magic, who knows" in my ear (yes, I've been overdosing on Into the Woods).

This morning I woke up sad again, but I do feel ok. I'm not going to work til Thursday, but yet I don't feel ill - not like recovering from a lap when I really needed the time off because I was in pain. I have a few cramps, but Dr Candour told me that was the uterus shrinking itself back and was a good thing. And they're really not bad - not even bad enough to take painkillers any more. I'm bleeding a bit, but nothing major. I'm sad, but it's a dull kind of ache, not the sharp, immediate panicky pain of seeing that ultrasound last week. The kind of ache I'll carry around for some time, I imagine. Dr Candour told me I'd really feel the hcg and progesterone coming down, but other than the sadness and feeling of fragility I'm not noticing anything. Luckily the heat has broken a little, so it won't be too miserable being at home today with no air conditioning. I've got gazpacho for lunch and plenty of work admin to keep me busy if I so desire. Or else that chick-saga to finish.

I'll be ok. I want to get on with further treatment so we can see if we can finally get that baby we're dreaming of. I know I'm going to be sad, and I feel a bit lonely, but I know that that's normal. I don't know how I'm going to manage to cope with work again, but I guess I'll manage that, as well. My first appointment on Thursday morning is to get my annual review feedback. Not sure that was my best option, but it's the only time my evaluator can see me. How much do you bet that at least some of the meeting involves me crying? My evaluator is a sweet, but conservative, Polish man so I'm not sure how well he's going to cope. Poor guy doesn't know what he's got coming.

Comments

[Nico]

I'm so sorry that your first pregnancy ended this way. My heart goes out to you. I'm glad that Dr. Candour is optimistic about your future chances, and that you haven't given up either. Big virtual hug!

[Pamplemousse]

Lets do sad and lonely together, sweetie. I am glad that you made it through. At least you now have a full stop at the end and I agree with Dr Candour that there is hope for the future. I am thinking of you and H.

[Molly]

You've been incredibly strong, Thalia. Were all thinking of you.

[AnnMarie@come undone]

I felt like I was reading my own story...just breaks my heart. I won't tell you to feel better and look on the bright side. I know how important it is to just feel. Be sad. Be depressed. Cry. Do what you have to do to properly mourn this. We're all here for you.

[KIMMER]

I'm glad you've taken some time off work; the hormones crashing can be a bit much. I'm also glad to see that your RE still has faith and remains hopeful for you. I’m so sorry once again Thalia.

[Kath]

Thanks for the update, dear Thalia.

I'm glad things went well (although using the word "well" in this context is pushing it) and that you've got a bit of time off now.

I'm also glad that Dr. Candour was able to reassure you about the future. I like him.

[StellaNova]

Your Dr Candour sounds wonderfully reassuring. He even reassured me too! I spent my days post surgery reading and watching trash. I had some work to do as well, but I just couldn't bring myself to face it. Try to take this time just for you ... work will still be there when you return. I hope your review goes well. I think mine will reflect that I've been a bit distracted this year...

[kristi]

I'm so sorry Thalia. I am glad your doctor provided you with some hope, and my wish for you is that you hold on to and remember this hope as you mourn your loss.

[fisher queen]

Thalia I am so sorry. I wish this had turned out differently.

[Leggy]

Thalia, I'm so sorry. This was the outcome I expected, but I still had hopes of a last minute miracle. Poor you, poor H... I wish there was something I could do.

[Jenn]

I'm so sorry. You will carry that sadness around for a long time. It gets better, but it doesn't go away. About the genetic testing, we didn't have the first one tested (too early), but we did for the second. By the time I had my D&C (I had to wait over a weekend) the embryo had already been reabsorbed. But they were able to test parts of the placenta. Hopefully it will give you some answers.

I've been thinking of you. *hugs*

[Mary Scarlet]

Thalia, I'm glad your Dr. has given you a good prognosis for future cycles. I'm so terribly sorry that this has happened. Glad you're off work for a few days; the emotional pain is enough without any physical problems, but I'm glad you don't have any of those.

[Flicka]

I'm glad that things went smoothly for you though I very much wish none of this had to have happened at all. Rest up during your days off. I hope the weather stays cooler for you.

xo

[Angela]

Just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you and am relieved to hear that you seem to be OK. I know the pain and sadness come in waves, but I'm glad to hear you talking of the future. Wishing you all the best.Take care of yourself.

[moo]

Thalia, I am thinking of you. I'm sorry for the day and all of it. The whole bit. Take care of yourself.

[Emma B]

I'm sorry, Thalia. Please take care of yourself and H.

[stephanie]

Thalia-I am glad you are taking a few days off from work. bad TV and chick novels can be very theraputic.

I so wish this had not happened to you. Be good to yourself. Thinking of you.

[Carla Hinkle]

It is just so not right that you have had to go through this. You've shown incredible grace and we are all proud of you.

[Robber Barren]

Oh, Thalia, my heart is breaking for you. I wish, I wish, I wish I could undo all of this and heal your pain.

[MoMo]

Oh Thalia--I hope you realize how strong and brave you are. I just want to let you know that I've been thinking of you. Take care.

[Krista]

THalia - I hate that you are going through this. I hate that I understand exactly what you are feeling. I hate that neither of us want to give up but neither of us really will ever feel hopeful or confident in our pregnancy. This sucks.

[amanda]

I'm just so damn sorry that you had to go through all of this, Thalia. I'm thinking of you so much.

[susan]

i'm very sorry thalia. very, very.

[elecriclady]

I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this. I'm glad Dr. Candour was able to give you hope for the future--he sounds amazing.

[Milenka]

I'm so sorry.

[Mary Ellen]

I am so sorry that you and H had to go through this Thalia. You are in my thoughts. Hugs to you.

[EJW]

I'm so sorry for your loss. Please take care of yourself and H.

[katie]

I'm so sorry. I think you should take at least a week off - I took two the first time and a week this time. Your mother would tell you the same...

[kati]

I'm so sorry about your loss.

[Kay]

I'm just so sorry that things turned out this way for you. Sending you healing thoughts and hoping the opulently clueless stay far, far away.

[mm]

I'm so damn sorry.

[Lynnette]

I admire your strength. I'm glad that you're looking to the future, too. Please take care of yourself. The hormone dive is killer, I've heard. Try not to blow snot bubbles on Polish man...but if you do, that's ok, too. Big hugs to you Thalia. I'm sorry we didn't meet in person, but I feel like I know you.

[Lindy]

I'm so, so sorry Thalia.

[hopefulmother]

Thalia, I'm so sorry for you - I am relieved for you that this "ending" is over, and that hopefully, in your own time, you will be able to again think about "beginning" again. Take as much time as you need.

It will happen for you, Thalia.

Thinking of you and your hubbie.

[Sami]

Again - I'm sorry. I know that's not enough, but I can't fix things like I want, so it'll have to be "I'm sorry." This stinks. I'm glad you are on the mend, feel free to vent as needed and know we're all here for you as you and your hubby cope with this loss.

[Vivien]

Well I guess Dr Candour answered my question of the day - better at least to have been pregnant. I am so glad you are already thinking of the future. Hope I guess will keep you going. That tiny feeling of hoping that against the odds the scan might show things to be OK after all, I recognise completely.
I am so sorry you are going through this. I hope you don't have a bad hormone wind-down or the Polish bloke will be in for it! (Not that I care about him, but I know how humiliating all these tears in the office can be).

[Sunnie]

Your story reads so much like mine. I'm glad that the really hard part is over (the surgery) now onto the real healing. Rest well, my lady. *hug*

[PBfish]

I'm so sorry for the way this turned out. Your strength is truly inspiring.
Be well.

[Donna]

At least now you can start to heal, physically at least. And here's to hope for the future. You're not out of the game yet.

[Summer]

Cry. Read. Sit in silence. Do whatever you need to do. This is a time to take care of yourself and let H take care of you. And breathe. When all else fails, breathe.

[Alli]

Thalia - I'm so sorry. Thinking of you. {{hugs}}

[zarqa]

Yes, it's amazing what power is in the words "But, you got pregnant".
This time around I'm taking the route of not grieving, at least not visibly, but just sinking into mindless sewing or tv watching or working. That route may not work for most though. Hoping you find the best way for you to cope with this.

[Lut C.]

Thalia, I'm so sorry your first PG ended before it had good and well started. I'm glad you were in capable hands (mostly), and grateful that dr. Candour had an encouraging message for you.
I wish for you that you never ever have to go through something like this again.

[Nicole]

Thalia, I am so sorry that this is over, but I hope that this was just preparation for the next pregnancy and that will go well. You are creating some gorgeous embryos so it doesn't sound like your eggs are any type of problem. That is great news. Right now it seems that all the good news is little teeny pieces and hopefully they will all come together next time for a successful pregnancy.

I know the hormone crash is going to be horrible. It seems alright at first because it is gradual, but then it all comes crashing down. I hid under a blanket for days in a grey fog. I don't really remember much of it, which is probably a good thing.

[statia]

Like you, it's one of those things I still hold out hope for. I was kind of hoping that it wouldn't be over for you.

Thinking of you.

[Mellie]

Oh Dear Thalia, my heart breaks for you. I wish I could make the dull ache of sadness you wrote of disappear. I admire you for being able to look forward - and am also so glad to hear Dr. Candour's optimism about future cycles. You write with such composure and strength - it's evident that you will be a wonderful mother when (not if - for one way or another I know it will happen) the time comes. Take care now and go easy on yourself. And give H a big hug. I'm glad he's there for you. And you for him.

[Jen]

I was so hoping for different news for you, sweetie. Please know you're in my thoughts.

[InDueTime]

Thalia, I am so very sorry about all this. My heart is breaking. Im thinking of you. Hugs

[Linda]

I am so sorry. I don't even know what to say. It's hard to know what to do at our age. I'm 41, two years ahead of you, and we're still forging forward, but it's a different path for each of us. You'll know what to do when you're ready to make that decision. For now just rest and heal the body and the heart.

Have you heard of Dr. Beer's work? He has a place in your area for doing testing that you might be interested in when you've recovered from this loss...he's since passed away but his work is being carried on. www.repro-med.net. If they took an endometrial biopsy while they were in there these folks can take a look to see if there was a diagnosable problem.

((hug))

[Elizabeth]

Thalia, I am so sad and so sorry for all that you and H. have endured in the past two weeks. I have been thinking of you the whole time. You amaze me with the grace and strength you have as you grieve your loss and plan for the future. Please be well.