Deep Breaths

 I'm just past 26 weeks pregnant. I've imagined and dreamed about this phase of pregnancy, where I'd only ever been once before with M. Q is now and has been for 6 weeks, older than Puff when he died. Passing Luke's and Bunny's milestones was relieving, but they were so soon (6 and 8 weeks respectively), that it wasn't as much of a relief as I'd thought. I was still in the dangerous 1st trimester, though having had a 2nd trimester loss and knowing too many people with 3rd trimester losses, I know that there is no "safe point" in a pregnancy all too well.

Honestly, some people may expect that I'll relax more now. Q is past the point where Puff died. Surely that is a huge relief. Puff's death was a fluke. I know all that and it is a relief. I am more relaxed this pregnancy that a lot of the women I know who are going through or have gone through pregnancies after loss (commonly abbreviated PAL). I am a member of an on-line support group on Facebook for women who are pregnant after a second trimester loss, so I do have some frame of reference for how I'm doing. Overall, I think I'm doing well. I am not fully relaxed. There are still rough days where anxiety threatens to get the best of me. I still qualify statements in my mind. The baby is doing well "for now." We are very excited "and hope nothing goes wrong." We should sign up for a tour of the maternity ward since the hospital opened a new one since Puff was born "and I hope we don't have the crying heart on our door this time." The support group has helped me see that this is totally normal. Pretty much all of us ladies in the group feel that way and most, if not all, of the ladies who have gone on to have healthy happy babies felt that way until they held their babies and even beyond. As I've said before, though maybe not on this blog, "there ain't no paranoia like loss mom paranoia." It just seeps in to you.

That isn't to say that I'm not joyful and hopeful. I've simply learned that hope doesn't always look like I used to think. Hope isn't a blind determination that everything will be ok. Hope is continuing to walk the path even though you know it might not be ok, even though it hasn't been ok in the past. Hope is taking steps forward, looking past the anxiety, even when you want to give up. Hope is sometimes sitting down in the road, taking a break and letting the tears flow before getting up to take the next step. I've stayed on the road. I have hope. Trust me, there is no greater joy than seeing/feeling my baby moving, hearing the doctor tell me all about him as we watch him on an ultrasound. Hope doesn't necessarily cast away the fears and anxieties, but it does put them in their place. Hope tells them that I'm going to keep walking, no matter what they say. Hope tells me that I don't have to do more than I'm ready for, that it is ok if I'm having a rough day, because I can keep going anyway. Hope isn't always a strong, lighthouse beacon in the night. Sometimes, hope is knowing that your eyes will adjust to the darkness so you can keep going. Hope is also the sliver of light to which your eyes adjust. Most days are wonderful. Q is a relatively active baby, at least compared to M, and I'm grateful for that (and no, I don't think I'll eat those words when he is born...I know the worse-case alternative and I'll take an active, rambunctious boy over that every single time). Most days, he is kicking and active and there is no doubt that he is fine. Other days, he is quiet and resting...which is normal, but I have to remind myself actively and often of the normalcy of it. And both of those days are ok. The quiet days get fewer and farther between the bigger he gets.

Please believe me, friends and family, I am not always as relaxed and confident as I seem. I sometimes keep up a facade because I need to. I need to act as though it is all ok because that helps me hang on to my hope. A very dear friend who is also pregnant after losses right now and I were talking. She said that she was having trouble holding on to hope. I told her I'd hold hers for her when she couldn't carry it herself if she'd do the same. She immediately understood what I meant and agreed. It is the greatest gift we can give each other, to hold on to hope for each other in the dark times. Other close friends offered to have a shower for me. I love and need the confidence that they have that Q will be fine. Know it or not, they help me hold my hope. I am not ready for a shower just yet (which is also common in the PAL community...a lot of women don't have "showers" until after their babies are born), but their unquestioning confidence was bolstering and happened to come on a day when I'd been having a particularly tough time with anxiety.

A few weeks ago, I came out of M's room and looked at the clock in the kitchen. I realized that I was 19 weeks, 6 days and that it was 8:30 pm exactly...the exact time gestationally that Puff was born into the arms of angels. The next morning, when I felt Q move for the first time of the day, I took a deep breath and sighed. That, my friends, is hope. This little man has made it farther down the road than any of his siblings except for M. May he ever follow in her joyful, happy footsteps and may the sound of them one day fill our ears and our home.

It's A ... BABY!!!

Well, here we are. 22 weeks exactly today. Wow...I can now say that this is as pregnant as I've been since M. Puff was born at 19 weeks 6 days, just 3.5 hours short of the 20 week mark, though he'd passed several days before that. It is an amazing feeling, though the caution, trepidation, and qualifying statements (mostly in my head) haven't evaporated over night.

The biggest thing to announce is that I went to the doctor three weeks ago. I'm sorry this post is so late, but most of you already saw our FB post about this. For those of you who haven't...IT'S A BOY!!! We are thrilled and so is M. Initially, she wanted a sister so she could get bunk beds like her best friends (who are sisters). Once she realized it would take a few years before the baby could sleep in a bunk bed, she decided she'd rather have a brother so she wouldn't have to share her toys. No worries, we explained that she'll have to share her toys no matter what! She still wanted a brother because it means she won't have to share her nicer jewelry, lol! On my blog, he will be referred to as Q. For privacy's sake, though no one really reads this except family and friends, I don't use the first names of my husband and living children. Most of you will have seen the Facebook announcement that will go up at the same time as this blog post, so you'll already know his full name.

The ultrasound with the MFM revealed that he seems to be in perfect health. If anything, he is a bit on the bigger side. The MFM said that was a good sign, though I may not appreciate it as much when I reach term, lol! He measured at 19 weeks 6 days for size when I was 19 weeks and he weighed 12 oz (though weight can be off a good bit...most of us probably have stories about that). I was especially glad to hear that he was a bit above target for size since I haven't gained any significant weight yet. I lost weight with Puff and I'd always wondered if that might have had something to do with his death. My ob/gyn had assured me it didn't, that we did everything right and that he'd never been concerned about my weight loss (especially since I'm a bigger girl). Q's health and...ahem...vigor have removed any doubt I had. He was laying on his left side, facing my left arm (if he'd been able to see through me, he'd have been looking at Daddy through the ultrasound. He was very cooperative and let the MFM see everything he wanted to see except outflow on the left side of his heart. The MFM said he could cheat and tell that it was ok, but he wanted to see me back in 5 weeks for another ultrasound just to get a clearer picture. I don't know if it was truly to see Q's heart or if it was to set my mind more at ease, but I don't really care. I could have sat there all day and looked at him.

The MFM was fantastic about pointing out everything they were looking at and why. "See this? This is the cerebellum. See how it is shaped like a dumbbell? That's good! If it were shaped like a banana, that is indicative of spina bifida." "See his foot? It is in proportion with his arms and legs. If it wasn't, that could be an indicator of Down syndrome." He went on to point out the present nasal bone (can indicate Down syndrome if absent), appropriate neck thickness (can also indicate Down syndrome if too thick), and his intact lips (no signs of cleft lip or palate). So everything looked great! The MFMwants me to do a baseline protein test due to my still elevated blood pressure. He said I do not have pre-eclampsia now, but might develop it later on, so he wants to see a baseline measure now to have a comparison. My blood pressure was much lower when I saw my ob/gyn after the ultrasound (imagine that...), but he agreed with the MFM. It certainly won't hurt anything to have it done. My ob/gyn was happy with all the results and scans, with my overall progress, and wants to see me back in three weeks (two now) for the protein test and my glucose check. So I go back to my ob/gyn today for those tests and to the MFM in two weeks for the ultrasound to see the left side of Q's heart.

Time Travel Updates

Everything is fine. :) I often start my conversations with my mother in this way. I know she is anxious about me, J, M, and the baby...especially the baby right now. So I figured if it is good enough for my mother, it is good enough for my blog.

I wanted to talk a bit about my 10 week ultrasound before I get to my doctor's appointment yesterday (see first sentence if you're the anxious type). I have remarked before that I have been mostly calm during this pregnancy...more than I had expected, anyway. However, if you catch me on the morning of a doctor's appointment, my heart is hammering in my ears and I'm so anxious I feel sick to my stomach. The 10 week ultrasound was no exception. The nurse at the MFM's office called me back to get my blood pressure and weight before the ultrasound. My blood pressure was so high, an alarm on the machine sounded. Apparently, it showed I was having a stroke. Obviously, I wasn't, so I took a few deep breaths and we tried again. Much better the second time, but still high. Well, duh! I'm a nervous wreck here! I'm having trouble breathing at all, let alone deeply and calmly! So anyway, I went back to wait with J for them to call us for the ultrasound. It seemed like forever, but we were finally called back. The ultrasound began and I almost immediately saw my baby's heartbeat. There were huge sighs of relief, face-splitting smiles, and a few tears (well, J didn't cry, but I did). Through the whole ultrasound, the baby kicked its tiny feet and waved its tiny hand. It looked like one of the golden cat statues I always associate with Chinese restaurants. The little hand kept bobbing up and down. "Looks like baby is saying hi," the MFM noted. "Hi, baby! We love you so much!" Heartbeat was a strong 160. MFM told us that with a strong heartbeat and such an active baby, he did not expect any problems for us. "You're miscarriage chance at this point is, in my estimation, as low as anyone else's. At 10 weeks with these good signs, I doubt you will miscarry. I'm so sorry for your earlier losses, but it is likely that your first (Puff) was a fluke accident. I don't think there is much chance at all that it would happen again." I have rarely heard sweeter words. My ob/gyn concurred and we were sent home smiling with pictures of our kicking, waving baby. 

I'll write more about the in-between time, as I've come to think about it, in another blog soon. Time travel to yesterday morning (7/11/16). I had a 15 week check-up with my ob-gyn. No ultrasound, just a routine follow-up. J decided to head to work unless I got to anxious and needed him there. I figured I'd be fine and sent him to work. I've requested morning appointments so that I can get it over with and not be anxious. Yesterday was no exception with anxiety. I was nervous to the point of trembling hands and feeling sick. The nurse called me back and began asking the standard questions. She reached for the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. "Can we please do the Doppler first? My blood pressure will be sky high until I hear the heartbeat." "Oh, of course!" Thank heavens! The nurse began prodding around, looking for the heartbeat but only finding mine. I knew it was my heartbeat because the sounds on the Doppler matched the thumping in my ears. Then, a buzzing noise came from the intercom. "I'm so sorry. The doctor needs me," the nurse said as she rushed out the door. "I'll be right back."

Honestly, in those moments lying alone on that table with her not able to find my baby's heartbeat, I had a major flashback. There were a few moments when the doctor and nurse left me in the exam room while they went to find other equipment and, I assume, consult about not finding Puff's heartbeat. I thought the same thing yesterday that I did then. "This will either be the best ending or the worst." I fought back tears and prayed. "Lord, I don't think I can do this again. I don't have much choice at this point, but I'll walk the road You have for me." It is a very lonely, aching, desperate place to be.

As the nurse walked back through the door, she immediately apologized. "I'm an idiot! I've been off for a week and you're my first Doppler back. It should be routine by now, but I completely forgot to check where your uterus is (not as dumb as it sounds, since it grows and moves throughout pregnancy). I'm so sorry." Two seconds of poking my belly and two seconds positioning the Doppler and there it was. A strong whoshing noise, faster than before. Baby's heartbeat!!! A nice, solid 156. I didn't cry, but I came VERY close. I laughed in relief and asked her if I could stay there all day listening. "Oh, honey, I know. I'd let you if I could. I'm so sorry for the stress I caused earlier." 

The rest of the appointment was pretty routine. My blood pressure was down from 10 weeks, but still a bit elevated. My doctor doesn't want me to change anything (I walk at least a mile each day with our dog and haven't gained a pound yet), but he is going to keep an eye on it. If it stays elevated or gets higher, he may recommend intervention and we would likely deliver baby early. But that isn't a major concern now as it was only slightly elevated. Other than that, I'm doing well and so is baby. Even typing that, I just sighed in relief. 

My next appointment is the gender/anatomy ultrasound at 19 weeks with the MFM on August 8, 2016. I'll follow-up with my ob/gyn after. I know I'll probably be even more nervous than usual since we found out Puff had died at a 19 week appointment. It will be a relief, though, to not just hear the heartbeat, but also to see the baby moving on the ultrasound and to learn its gender. I'll definitely ask the MFM's nurse to do my blood pressure AFTER the ultrasound this time! :) 

So we keep walking. Through the dark, bumpy patches of anxiety and fear. Through the smooth stretches where we step in time with a tiny heartbeat, drumming our hope. We walk, always one day, one step, one heartbeat closer to our sweet baby.

First Ultrasound (5/9/2016)

Here is another post written pre-public announcement of our pregnancy.

Well, our new baby is due January 2, 2017! As of the day I am writing this (May 9, 2016), I am exactly six weeks pregnant. My ob/gyn decided he wanted to see me early, around 7 weeks, as he wants to keep a closer eye on this pregnancy. His amazing staff scheduled an ultrasound at the MFM's office and a follow-up with him after. One perk of having the ultrasounds with the MFM is that the doctor is present during the ultrasound. The suite my ob/gyn uses is in a separate office and is only ultrasound techs. Nothing against technicians, but given my history, I am glad to have a doctor who specializes in high risk pregnancies looking at the ultrasounds too.

That's right...he wanted to see me at 7 weeks, we went today, and I said that I'm six weeks pregnant. Using traditional dating methods, I would be 7 weeks and 1 day pregnant. However, the ultrasound revealed that the baby was not as big as we thought, so the due date was pushed back to 1/2/17, putting us at 6 weeks pregnant. That happened with M too, except her due date was pushed back two weeks! She was born three days ahead of the later due date, so it was definitely right. Other than that, though, the MFM said everything looked great. No signs of subchorionic hemorrhage (Bunny's cause of death)!  And best of all, we got to see and hear the baby's heartbeat!!! Heart rate is 124, which both doctors agreed is a good sign. MFM said that my progesterone should be good, based on the ultrasound, but ordered labs just to be sure. My ob/gyn put me on a dose of progesterone as soon as we got the positive test, but the MFM said he would increase it if he needed to. However, the labs came back and my levels were great.

It was super comforting when, in the follow-up with him, my ob/gyn started talking about expectations for labor and delivery based on my experience with M, about getting a TDAP shot at 32 weeks, etc. Hearing him talk about the future of this pregnancy with such certainty really drove it home. There is no reason why this pregnancy shouldn't get that far. There are no indications at this point that there is anything wrong. All the signs point to a healthy pregnancy and baby...and definitely to a happy Mama, Daddy, and Big Sister! Both doctors and their staffs were supportive, caring, and all-around fantastic. We couldn't ask for better care. Both doctors, independent of each other, agreed that I should come back in four weeks for another ultrasound and follow-up. They want to keep a close eye on this pregnancy, given our history. Technically, I haven't been classified as "high risk" at this point, but since the MFM's office will be doing my ultrasounds, he wanted to stay involved. I'm not sure how involved he will be in the long run. I don't know if they will want to continue doing more frequent ultrasounds just to be sure or if the next one will be the last until the gender/anatomy scan around 20 weeks. We will have to wait and see.

But tonight, my steps down the road are a little lighter and the path seems a little brighter. Even if it is just for this moment, even if the darkness closes in again soon (as I know all too well that it can), I am going to enjoy this moment. Tonight, as we travel down our path, we skip, we run, we sing, and we dance. Tonight is a night for joy.

Gratitude and Comfort

I am writing this blog on April 20th, 2016. I'm noting that because this post won't be published for a while. I don't yet know how long it will be, but there are things that need to be done before I can publish it.

WE'RE PREGNANT!! We found out on April 18th. I'd been having some symptoms, but I tend to be a symptom-seeker, so I try not to get my hopes up. All the signs pointed to it, though, so after a faint if-I-turn-it-just-the-right-way-in-just-the-right-light-it-is-maybe-positive test that morning, I took another test in the afternoon and got a definite positive. I am, on April 20th, 4 weeks and 2 days pregnant. (UPDATE: I was actually only about 3 weeks and 1 day pregnant, baby's scan showed that it is a bit behind. More on that in a later post, but it is nothing to worry about) My doctor has started me on progesterone (which, from what I can tell, may or may not help but won't hurt). I will not see him until the second week in May, when I will be 7 weeks. I don't have an appointment date yet, as scheduling is difficult. My ob/gyn and the MFM who did our testing have agreed (at my request) that I can do my ultrasounds at the MFMs office. The ultrasound suite my ob/gyn uses is where it was confirmed to me that Puff had died, where we learned that something was wrong with the pregnancy with Bunny, and where it was confirmed that the pregnancy with Bunny was not viable. I have strong feelings associated with that office and I am not sure how I would react going back. Both doctors agree that the stress is not worth it, especially since the MFM's office and my ob/gyn's office are both located at the same hospital. I can walk from one to the other...not quickly, but I can. I will remain under the care of my ob/gyn unless complications arise that would necessitate moving to the MFM. So scheduling the ultrasound at the MFM's and the appointment with my ob/gyn has proven tricky.

Those are the nitty gritty details that people will want to know. They are up-to-date as of the day I'm writing this and I will only edit critical details before I post this. The main reason I'm writing this is because I want to chronicle this part of the journey. J and I don't know when we'll make this baby public. Some family members and close friends know already, but not many. It is still so new. It isn't that we're scared of a loss, though we are. J always says that if people want to rejoice with us, they can mourn with us. If they can't be with us through both, they don't need to be part of our lives. We're just relaxing as much as we can and enjoying this. 

Honestly, I have felt more relaxed and calm in the days immediately before and after the positive test than I have since the early days of my pregnancy with Puff. Even before we had a loss of our own, there was always the first trimester angst. It wasn't as intense, but it was there. Anyway, I have caught myself daydreaming about being hugely pregnant and feeling this baby move, or about being home with the baby on maternity leave. It has been comforting to feel more calm. I am having some symptoms, which is the bulk of what I wanted to talk about.

I've had some nausea throughout the day, some sensitivity to smells, some aversions/cravings (similar to the ones I had with Puff...I want spicy food, lol), frequent urination, forgetfulness (my typical tell) and some ligament pain. These are all normal, blessedly, wonderfully normal. I make sure to talk to J about them, to update him throughout the day with how I'm feeling. Mostly, I do this because I find immense comfort in the symptoms, especially the nausea and ligament pain. I know those are there because of higher-than-normal hormone levels. Every time a wave of nausea hits, every time a ligament protests when I move too quickly, every time I have to stop what I'm doing to pee, or try to remember something simple, I say a quick "thank you" prayer. I am so grateful for these symptoms. They bring comfort because they help me remember and rest in the knowledge that I'm still pregnant. Even if this goes wrong later, right now, I'm pregnant and I can enjoy this baby for every minute that it is with me. That is the outlook I want to have.

Throughout this pregnancy, I am going to try to keep this outlook. I am going to try to be grateful for every inconvenience, pain, and sickness. I am going to try to use as many minutes of lost sleep as possible praying for this baby, for my friends and family, and for myself. I am going to try to remember to say "thank you" when each little thing hits. I know how quickly it can go away and how heartbreaking that can be. I've been the woman listening to a thoughtless comment, reading a post complaining about a pregnancy symptoms, etc. and feeling the invisible knife cut my heart, just a little bit deeper because I would give anything except another life to have those symptoms, to have that ignorance of the shattering grief of child loss. 

So as we walk this new path on our road, please walk with us. Please hold me accountable to my gratitude, but be sensitive about it. Please understand that, no matter how grateful we are, grief is still a part of our lives and always will be. No baby will replace Puff, Luke, and Bunny nor make me stop longing for them. We walk, hoping for light, straining to glimpse it up ahead, catching it and holding on for dear life whenever we can. Resting in the knowledge that right here, right now, we're pregnant!

Entropy and Loss

I've been avoiding this post. Heck, I've even had this written for several days and left it unpublished. More on that in a minute. Two and a half weeks ago, we went to see the MFM and start testing. Let me start out by saying that the appointment was wonderful. We saw a female doctor in the practice. She was very empathetic, never making us feel rushed while thoroughly answering every question we threw at her (and there were quite a few). She agreed to a test I asked about (TSH) and then suggested another on my list (structural exam) before I had a chance to even bring it up. We were placed in a consultation room that had a comfortable couch and chair, television, lamps, and bookshelves. With the exception of the obstetric and gynecological journals and textbooks on the shelves, there was no indication that we were in an ob/gyn/MFM office. No smiling/sleeping babies, no belly shots of pregnant women, no magazines telling you how to have your perfect pregnancy now. It was neutral and refreshing.

I think that, as a whole, we humans don't do well with entropy. We seem to constantly try to reign in the chaos, to make sense of the world around us and place things into categories. I think we all like some degree of order, structure, guidelines, predictability, etc. Often, we assign reasons or backstory to a situation so that it makes sense to us. Randomness scares us. Chaos is the stuff of nightmares. So, we assign people to categories or roles so that they fit our notions of structure. We invent scenarios to make sense out of what may seem random. Sadly, we don't always do this in the nicest way. That guy who tailgated me, cut me off, and zoomed off way over the speed limit is an impatient jerk rather than someone who might be on his way to his first or last time seeing a loved one. The mother with the screaming kid at the store is someone who doesn't discipline her child effectively, rather than someone who didn't get a lot of sleep because her child has night terrors...and the child is a spoiled brat rather than a kid who is tired and anxious because of terrifying dreams. Losing my job was really only the catalyst to finding my dream job and, in retrospect, was the best thing that could have happened. It was worth the scary, shitty, anxious time of having no job and very little money to find the happiness I have now. Categories, roles, backstory...even imagined or assigned, these things help us make sense of the world around us and help us assign meaning.

How does these two paragraphs relate? Well, those of you who know me know that I have a touch of Obsessive/Compulsive Personality Disorder. Not enough to be diagnosed, but enough to be a bit crazier than most people. As much as humans love order, I REALLY love order. Chaos makes me

anxious. I like things in neat rows (not literally...I don't line up pencils...usually). I like categories and data and numbers. I like it when things make sense. I like predictability, stability, and routine. I try to avoid the categorizations I talked about in the previous paragraph, but I do it, too. We all do. So here's my first confession...I'm scared senseless that my losses don't have order, don't fit into neat categories, that the data won't match up. I'm scared because not finding a reason for the losses leaves them without a category, makes them random. I don't do well with random. In a way, I don't believe in random. But if there isn't a reason medical science can find, then I don't know what to do. I don't know how to assign meaning to my losses, to my babies, if the only category for their deaths is "random" or "bad luck."

Here is confession number two. All of the blood tests with the exception of the genetic tests have come back. All of them are within normal ranges, so far as I can tell. We haven't talked to the doctor yet, but through the miracle of electronic health records, I have seen every test result. While this means there isn't anything "unfixable" wrong with me, it also means that our only chance of finding a "reason" for the losses is if there is something genetic or structural wrong. Those are much more serious and more likely to be "unfixable" (though some things are avoidable or can be worked around). So while there was a sense of relief every time I would look at the results and see them within normal ranges or "no mutation found," there was a sense of disappointment, too. 

It seems beyond fathomable that 75% of my pregnancies have ended in death, but there is no medical reason. I can't understand how I'm supposed to find hope enough to keep trying, hope that I'll ever hold another biological child if 75% of my pregnancies end in unexplained death. Those are really, really terrible odds. Not the worst, but pretty darn bad. Knowing that there is a 75% chance that a future pregnancy will end in death, is it irresponsible to keep trying? Is it cruel to subject babies to those kinds of odds if I get pregnant again? I don't worry about myself or J. We want to keep trying. We are not at the point that we cannot take having the hope dashed again, that the risk is not worth the reward. But I wonder still. I don't have good answers to the questions. There aren't any. All I can say to anyone else facing them is that you have to do the best you can with what you have. Right now, if there is no "reason," we are willing to take the chance on another pregnancy. If that baby dies, I don't know what we'll do, if we'll keep trying. Eventually, there comes a point where people simply cannot keep trying. We'll know when we get there and that choice isn't one anyone else can, or should, make for us. Thankfully, we are surrounded by loving people who support us and our choices. 

This part of the road is particularly agonizing as we try to find order and meaning in the midst of unyielding chaos and questions. But still, we stay on the path. Sometimes staggering beneath the weight of it all, sometimes bearing it with more grace and dignity, but always forward. Even when we seem to be taking a step back, it is still a step that influences our journey forward. 

What to Expect When You're Testing

One week from now, I will (hopefully) be back at the high risk doctor with J for our testing. While this is not the topic of the blog post, a few people have asked, so I thought I'd share what tests the doctor plans to order. We'll both be doing a genetic karyotype to ensure neither of us is carrying a genetic disorder that could cause miscarriages. The rest of the tests are just for me, lucky girl that I am. They'll run an Antinuclear Antibody test to check for autoimmune disorders; MTHFR, which is a genetic mutation that leads to clotting disorders; Factor V Leiden thrombophilia, another genetic disorder that leads to problems with clotting; Proteins S and C levels, which are associated with excessive clotting; prothrombin/INR time tests, which look at how long it takes my blood to clot; and finally, homocysteine levels, which is associated with B12/Folic Acid deficiencies and clotting problems. I am also going to ask for a thyroid panel while we are there...as well as anything else they can/will do. Notice a trend? Lots of clotting disorder tests on the books.

We know Bunny died due to two large subchorionic hemorrhages. We know we had a threatened miscarriage with Luke before the actual miscarriage, but we don't know why. We know Puff was born with a tight nuchal cord, but we don't know why. Nuchal cord at his gestational age is incredibly rare. My research put the statistics at under a 6% likelihood, with NO statistics available about nuchal cord causing death at that gestational age. We also know that with *only* three miscarriages, the tests are unlikely to reveal anything. I have been on a prenatal vitamin since June of 2014 and took extra folic acid with at least Luke and Bunny, so a deficiency isn't likely as treatment is taking extra folic acid. I have been on an 81mg aspirin regimen since my early 20s due to my history of hemisensory migraines and family history of heart problems. According to my ob/gyn, that is the typical first line treatment for clotting problems, so that is unlikely also. Neither J, M, or I have any symptoms of genetic abnormalities, so that, too, is unlikely. I also started progesterone right after we got the positive test with Bunny.

So yeah, there are lots of things that are unlikely, but possible. The losses were all so different and I know that both my ob/gyn and MFM think that they are probably not related. However, J and I agree that we can't wait for another loss to do testing. I know the doctors think we are likely to go on to have a healthy pregnancy. We simply aren't willing to risk the life of yet another of our children. Insurance will pay for testing after three miscarriages, we're getting the testing after three miscarriages. If nothing comes of it, we'll at least have that knowledge. If something does, then we'll either be able to do something to improve our odds of a healthy pregnancy or we won't but we'll know what we're up against. No matter what, we want as much information as possible to make the best, most well-informed decision possible. From here, we can work with my ob/gyn and MFM to make a plan for the next pregnancy.

In several different conversations with friends about the testing, the same awkward moment comes up. People don't know if they should hope the tests find something or not. I can understand both viewpoints. On one hand, finding something means that there is something wrong with (most likely) me and my friends are likely afraid I might blame myself. On the other hand, finding nothing means that we have no idea why we lost 75% of our pregnancies and those stats don't forecast happy days ahead, no matter what the doctors say. So here's my hope. I hope we find something. Even if it is something that can't be compensated for, fixed, or eradicated, at least I'll have a reason. At least then, the losses won't be random, "bad luck," etc. Maybe I'll blame myself a bit, but I have a cognitive understanding that I didn't know about the problem and couldn't possibly have done anything about it. I understand that I did as much as I could as soon as I could and I honored my babies by getting the testing so that we could do as much as possible for a better ending next time. To me, the worse of the two options is not knowing, having to face the possibility of trying again and again just to end up in the same dark hole until we finally have to stop. I know that is the most likely outcome, not finding anything, and it is the scariest for me. But regardless, I have to try. I have to give any biological children we might go on to have the best chance I can, even though it means facing down and likely living through, one of my worst fears.

While hope isn't exactly is strong supply at this moment, it comes and goes. But hope is always there or we wouldn't go for testing at all, we wouldn't keep trying, we wouldn't keep fighting. Maybe it is more accurate to say that my hope is more hard-fought than ever before in my life. It isn't that it isn't there, but rather that I've been able to take it for granted in the past. Now that I have to fight for every scrap of hope for a healthy baby, I feel the loss of that innocence, of the free and limitless supply of hope I used to have. But hope remains, and so we walk down the path that will lead to our redemption, not knowing what the road holds, but trusting in the One who holds us.