365 Days of Loss

“This isn’t something you get over.  It’s just something you get through, and then you carry it around with you for the rest of your life.  It’s part of your story now.  Part of your history.  It’ll always, always hurt.  Just not quite as bad someday.” -Lucious Lemon by Heather Swain

I’m not really sure what I intended to write when I started to make this post.  So it’ll be a surpise to all of us I guess.

I got up this morning knowing the significance of this date.  I thought about it yesterday.  Hell, I thought about it all week long.  A year to the day that I miscarried.  365 days ago.  365 days of hurting.  365 days of crying.  365 days of guilt.  Of selfishness.  Of bitterness.  Of anger.  365 days of loss.

It’s weird.  I’ve been worried that I wouldn’t be able to cry today.  The hormone filled girl who sobs uncontrollably when a bathroom tissue commercial comes on was afraid she wouldn’t be able to cry today.  Of all days.

I was afraid that the meds {Zoloft} I started to control my hormonal outbursts would keep my emotions at bay.  Thats what they’re supposed to do, after all.  But I need to cry today.

And I did.  I am.  And I am far from done.

Thankfully my worst fears did not come true, and the meds did not cloud the single most important and devastating thing that has ever happened to me.  Because I needed to feel this today.  It’s a part of me.  Forever.  It’s not going away.

And I surprise even myself when I say… I wouldn’t want it to.

Sexy Time. Again.

Gone were the days of scheduled intercourse, coming home after a long day from work, looking at my husband with a complete lack of interest, and thinking, “Let’s just get this over with now so we don’t have to worry about it after dinner.”


Or so I thought.  Here’s your warning: This post may include some TMI moments {Do those even exist when you’re TTC???}.

The past 3 cycles have been fantastic.  Before I started the Letrozole we did a month of BC.  Then my next cycle we did the IUI.  The next cycle was a bust because I was ovulating on the wrong ovary.  So for the last 3 months, my hubby and I have been able to actually enjoy sex with each other whenever we WANT, not just when its on the calendar!  Its been amazing.  And I thought it would continue that way, since we’ve decided to keep trying with the IUI approach.


I went in for my Day 12 ultrasound on Monday {the 17th}.  There were 3 follies on my RIGHT ovary {Hooray!} but they were a little small. Two 10’s and one 12.  Dr. L actually called them pitiful.  Thanks, Dr. L {I still love you}.  I talked to him about my weird cycles the last two months, with the light spotting for 2-3 days before I actually started any heavy duty bleeding, and he said from now on he wanted me to start counting Day 1 on my first day of heavy bleeding.  In light of this news, he said that I could actually only be on Day 10 rather than Day 12, so he wanted to see me back Wednesday for another ultrasound to see how my little follies were growing.

Cut to Wednesday {the 19th}  {Side Bar: This is one year to the day that we heard our baby’s heartbeat for the first time.  Four days later I miscarried. This week has been a rough one.}  I go in for another ultrasound.  At this point I’m on Day 14, or Day 12, depending on if you counted the first two days of spotting I had as cycle days. Oy.  My little follies grew 1mm.  Still pitiful.  Dr. L said he was expecting them to grow at least 2-3mm.  He said it was very possible that they would mature and I would still ovulate, but at that point he didn’t see enough to warrant spending the money on an IUI.  Plus, as it was looking, if I DID ovulate, it was looking to happen on the weekend and while he would come in to do it even though the office is closed, the lab that does the sperm washing is closed on the weekend {Since Dr. L is just my OBGYN and I’m not going to a fertility clinic *yet*, which would obviously be open 7 days a week, this is the luck of the draw}.

So you know what that means… me and the hubs get to have Sexy Time this weekend.  And lots of it.  Sigh.  There’s just something about having to do it that makes me not wanna do it.  I know you know what I mean.

On a brighter note, I haven’t been nearly as crazy or close to a mental breakdown the last few weeks.  I finally called Dr. L’s office and told them I was losing it, and he prescribed me a low dose of Zoloft.  I was pretty hesitant at first.  I’ve never taken anything like that before and I was afraid it would make me a zombie.  But so far its done the trick without compromising my personality, and I only have 3 refills so its only a temporary thing.  I did some research on it and its prescribed to a lot of women who have severe PMS symptoms {which….HELLO, hormones!}.  The girls at work have even mentioned that they’ve noticed a difference in me.

Ok. So back to the follies.  So that makes today either Day 16 or Day 14.  Depending on how you’re counting it.  I haven’t done any OPK’s or temp charting, partly because I didn’t think I’d need to and partly because they just make me crazy.  But I did notice I had a little CM today {gross, I know}.  So hopefully my little follies are growing and all the Sexy Time we’re about to have isn’t all for nothing!

Just curious… If you’ve done IUI or monitored by ultrasound, what size are your follies usually on day 12 or 14?  Just so I have something to compare to.  I’m really hoping maybe I just flubbed up my days and we’ll ovulate just fine.  But as usual, I’m not getting my hopes up.  I’ll know for sure next week if we ovulated when I go in for my bloodwork.

Until then, have a good weekend!  You know what I’ll be doing! {Ha!}

Weird Cycles & Crappy Insurance

In an earlier post I said that I should be getting AF on or about September 6th.  Imagine my surprise when that little devil actually showed up on September 6th!  That’s pretty much unheard of, for me anyway.  I haven’t been able to predict my period in….ever.  But sure enough, there she was, right on time.  But here’s the thing…

The last two cycles I’ve been on Letrozole.  My last two periods {this one included} have been….strange.  Started out very light and spotty, and instead of getting heavier, have stayed very light and spotty.  This is day 3, and the only thing I’ve had to wear is a tiny little panty liner.  Before the letrozole, when AF showed up, she showed up guns-a-blazin’.  Flood gates opened and it was on.  Granted, most of the time I had to take Provera to start my period…even while I was on Clomid, because at least half the time I wasn’t ovulating on it {hence the Letrozole}.  I’m just confused and almost feel like I’m cheating since its a barely-there period.  Anyone else had this happen while on Letrozole {Femara}??

Ok.  On to my crappy insurance rant.

My stupid workplace has been trying to switch our insurance for a while now to something that is cheaper for them.  They pay 100% of my insurance.  To clear that up, I pay NOTHING for health insurance.  Nothing gets taken out of my check every two weeks.  Whereas most companies pay 80% for employees, and the rest is deducted from their paycheck every pay period, my employer pays 100% for us for medical and dental {does not imclude spouse/family, only employee coverage}.  Which is fantastic.  I appreciate it, I really do, because I know the workplaces that do this are few and far between. Which is why I feel a tiny bit of guilt bitching about my insurance, since its free and all….but here we go.

Like I said, my employer has been trying to switch insurances for the last couple years, but they haven’t been able to because they’ve had some “high risk” employees {people with ridiculous medical conditions that went to the doctor/had surgeries all the damn time} on the payroll and no other insurance company would touch us.  For a little while there I thought I might be one of the “high risk” employees, since I’m in my OB/GYN’s office almost as much as I’m in my own!

Well, lo and behold, within the last year we’ve had two employees quit and about a week and half ago we were signing up for our new insurance.  Absolutely no warning whatsoever.  They just started pulling us into the conference room one day to fill out paperwork and said effective September 1st, you’re covered by the new crappy insurance!  Initially, I was swept up by panic, because I have no idea if Dr. L is covered under the new insurance, and there is no WAY I can change doctors after two years of treatment with this man.  Then, the thought of IVF hit me…because we aren’t there YET, but my old insurance did cover it {80% up to $15000} so I knew if it came to that we could at least try once without going COMPLETELY broke.  I was pretty pissed off, because this new change was A.) Unexpected, and B.) Screwing everything up for me {yes, me me me me me! I’m back to my selfish phase}.

Luckily, Dr. L is in network and IVF is covered, but with very strict stipulations that I luckily{?} qualify for {though the overall coverage of this new insurance blows}.  So yesterday I go to Walgreens to pick up my Letrozole, since I started AF on Thursday and will start the Letrozole on Monday.  I give the lady at Walgreens my new insurance info {which is typed out on official stationary from my employer since we haven’t even gotten our cards yet} and she promptly tell me that my new crappy insurance requires a prior authorization for the medication.  Fuck. Me. {sorry for the four letter word, but SERIOUSLY.}

She starts to explain to me what the prior authorization means, and I stop her and tell her I work in a doctor’s office, I know exactly what it means.  It means that I am going to end up paying $80 for FIVE pills.  Because it’s Friday and its after 5, and my doctor’s office isn’t going to get the prior authorization form to fill out until Monday, and they probably won’t get around to filling it out and faxing it in until later that afternoon {because I work in a busy doctor’s office and I know that’s how it goes}, and if by some SLIM chance of a miracle by the Powers That Be decide that this medication will be covered by the new crappy insurance, it will already be too late because I HAVE to start taking it on Monday.

I did what any desperate self respecting girl would do and I called in a favor.  I happen to work with and be pretty good friends with Nurse D’s {Dr. L’s nurse} daughter.  Since it was just a few minutes past 5 I tried calling Dr. L’s office but they already had the phones shut off.  So I called my friend A and explained the sitch to her asked if she knew if her mom was still at work or not.  I know she stays late sometimes because she’s called me well past 6 o’clock before from the office.  A said she’d call her cell and see and have her call me if she was.  I figured if she could at least get the prior authorization form faxed in now instead of waiting til Monday, it might speed things up a little.  Unfortunately Nurse D had already left work.  But I figured it was worth a shot.

Oh, well.  I don’t expect that it will be covered anyway.  Especially since I’m using it for infertility reasons instead of it’s actual use {breast cancer} but my old awesome insurance hadn’t caught on to that yet.  It just sucks because I paid $10 last month for the same 5 pills I’m gonna have to pay $80 for this month.  I can’t wait to see what other surpises this new insurance has in store for me!

Ok. End rant.

Everyone have a great weekend!

Kindness of a Stranger

You ever have one of those moments where a perfect stranger says or does something that completely makes your day?  This is one of the perks of my job.

I work with every type of person you can imagine.  Babies, toddlers, children, teenagers, adults, the elderly, people of all ages.  People with mental and/or physical disabilities.  People who don’t speak English.  People who are certifiably insane.  Somedays its a blessing.  Somedays its a challenge.

I spend most of my days working in the clinic portion of our facility doing eye exams and different types of diagnostic testing.  Some of my patients are talkers, some don’t say anything past reading the eye chart.  One of our main services in our office is cataract surgery, so we see a lot of the 60+ crowd.  These people tend to be the biggest talkers, because lets face it, I’m probably one of the only people they’ve had to talk to all week.  A lot of them like to tell me about their family {who probably rarely visits} or brag about their grandchilden {pictures included} or sadly, tell me about their spouse who is terribly sick or even worse has recently been laid to rest {I have a hard time keeping it together when these types of stories come about. My hormones just can’t take it!}.

Among all of those topics, I get a handful of people everyday who like to ask about myself.  Where am I from? Am I married?  Is that my natural hair color? {Seriously…and I’m a brunette!}  How long have I been doing this?  Do I like my job?  How can I know so much when I don’t look like I’m old enough to be out of high school? {That ones my favorite…hehe…obviously these people have vision problems, but it still makes me feel good!}  But the one question I get asked at the very minimum at least once a day {but usually more} is: Do you have children?

I usually skirt around the question, saying, “Not yet!” or “We’re working on it!” with a fake smile plastered on my face.  Because I do not have the time nor sanity to spill my guts about my situation to every single person who asks this question.  I usually get a polite response like, “Oh, don’t worry, you have plenty of time,” {because apparently I look younger than I actually am to these people} or some sort of words of wisdom about raising children.  I nod and smile sweetly and then get about my business.

A few months ago I was doing an exam on a lady, probably in her late 60s, early 70s.  She and I were having the typical conversation, when she began talking about how she was raising her granddaughter because the mother had “ran off.”  I can’t imagine someone abandoning a child, but I didn’t say much so as to keep my professionalism.  Then the lady went on to tell me how shocked she was because the mother had tried so hard for children, and ended up having to adopt this little girl, only to decide later that she couldn’t handle it.  By this point I couldn’t keep it in.  I was almost in tears myself as I told the lady how terribly this broke my heart.  I gave her a brief version of my story, and in the nicest way possible told her that I couldn’t understand how someone could even contemplate doing something like that.

The lady of course gave me much sympathy, and told me how much she hoped that I would finally get my baby.  Before I left her for the doctor to see her, she asked for my name.  I told her, and she said that she would put me on the prayer list at her church.  I was beyound touched and grateful, and beyond emotional.  But that’s not where the story ends.

Yesterday, the lady came back into the clinic, this time for a consult for cataract surgery.  I didn’t do her workup, nor did I even know she was in the building.  She was sitting in a chair in a hallway, waiting to have measurements done, when I walked past her and she called out my name.  I turned back to her and smiled.  She did look familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her.  We have so many regular patients that come in.  Then she asked, “Are you pregnant yet?”  So I smiled and said, “Not yet.”  Then she told me, “Well, I just want you to know that I haven’t forgotten about you.  I still pray for you every night, and you’re still on the prayer list at church.”  An ocean of emotions washed over me as I remembered who she was.  It was all I could do to sputter our the words ‘Thank you.’  I briefly told her we’re still hopeful and have started a new medicine that seems promising.  As I told her goodbye and that I would see her in surgery, she said, “You know, I don’t even really know you, but I can tell you’re going be a great mother.”  There really aren’t any words to describe how that made me feel.

It really pulls me back down to reality.  Most of the time I am the most selfish person in the world.  Always thinking about myself and my situation, wondering why I have to have these problems when things seem to come so easily for others, assuming that the entire world is revolving around me and my jacked up lady parts.  And then there’s this person, this perfect stranger who has met me once and doesn’t even know my last name, who has set aside a place in her thoughts and her prayers and her heart for me.

To know that there are people out there rooting for me that I may not even know about…

Truly.  Amazing.

Good things will happen for us.  All of us.