Getting Pregnant with POF / DOR / Low FSH

Supplements anyone? I recently got rid of these and gave away my remaining OPKs, which felt really, really good.

I'll never forget the moment when I found out I have premature ovarian failure / diminished ovarian reserve. My OB ran a few "routine" blood tests after I told her I was having short cycles after coming off of birth control (24-25 days).  I didn't even know for what she was checking, but I was sitting at my desk at work when she said "Your AMH level was undetectable and your FSH very high.  You may have a very narrow window in which you can have your own children.  But don't worry, you can always use donor eggs."  Those three sentences completely upturned my world and everything I thought about building a family (not to mention that I had no idea what AMH was and what, exactly, she meant by donor eggs.

After the initial shock wore off and I scheduled an appointment with CCRM, I fell down the rabbit hole that is Google and started to learn everything I could about high FSH, low AMH, DOR, POF, etc.  In a situation where I felt like I had no control, I wanted to arm myself with any information I could and to do whatever was in my control to become pregnant.  I scoured the internet for success stories, read every book available on the subject, and had consults with three Denver fertility clinics, including CCRM (where I was handed a packet of information on donor eggs and told I wasn't really a candidate for IVF).  

I found great hope in posts I read online from women who beat the odds and got pregnant despite depressing statistics and seemingly insurmountable odds (see My Bum Ovaries and Torthúil as examples) and I promised myself that if I had success, I would share my story and what I learned with others.  I've been wanting to write this post for ages, but I knew I couldn't do it until Baby C was safely in my arms.   

I live in Colorado, so I've included local resources that I utilized and liked.

Background

• Diagnosed at age 32 with DOR/POF. AMH less than 0.15 (undetectable) and day 3 FSH of 17.3
• My FSH has since been as low as 7 and as high as 59 (immediately following my first miscarriage).  My AMH has been as high as 0.23.
• I have mild hypothyroidism and low Vitamin D
• Day 3 ultrasound shows only two follicles on one ovary and one follicle on the other
• I have been pregnant 5 times:
• Spontaneous (unassisted) pregnancy 8/2013, which ended in the stillbirth of our daughter at 26 weeks (unrelated to fertility)
• Spontaneous (unassisted) pregnancy 5/2014, which ended in the birth of Baby B
• Spontaneous (unassisted) pregnancy 3/2016, which ended in miscarriage at 6 weeks
• Pregnancy while taking Clomid 12/2016, which ended in miscarriage at 6 weeks
• Spontaneous (unassisted) pregnancy 8/2017, which ended in the birth of Baby C
• I have tried IUI once and have tried 2 cycles on Clomid.  I have planned to do IVF cycles 3 times but had a spontaneous pregnancy before each planned IVF cycle.
• My husband has no issues with sperm count or quality.
• I am otherwise quite healthy, eat well, exercise regularly (marathon runner and triathlete), drink only in moderation, don't do drugs, and have never smoked.  

Books I Read

• It Starts with the Egg by Rebecca Fett (I can't recommend this one enough)
• Taking Charge of Your Fertility
• Real Food for Mother and Baby: The Fertility Diet, Eatingfor Two, and Baby's First Foods by Nina Planck
• The Hormone Cure by Sara Gottfried
• The Fertile Female

What I tried

• Acupuncture (Jane at Acupuncture Denver and Gina at Insight Acupuncture)
• Hypnotherapy (Eastburn Hypnotherapy Center)
• Mayan Uterine Massage (Artemisia & Rue - Shelley is incredible)
• OPKs
• Less exercise
• Eliminating BPA and phthalates
• Changes in diet, restricting caffeine, and eliminating alcohol 
• Charting / AVA Fertility Monitor
• Supplements & Vitamins
• Vitamin D 2,000 IU D2 (2/day)
• Prenatal Vitamin (1/day)
• Fish Oil EPA/DHA - 2,000 mg/day with food
• COQ10 (300 mg, 2x day) - taken in the a.m. with protein (purchased from a compound pharmacy with a prescription)
• Inositol (2 scoops, 2x day) - 4g day total
• OPCs (1 capsule daily) (http://umm.edu/health/medical/altmed/herb/grape-seed) 
• DHEA - 75 mg (taken in 2 half doses and purchased from a compound pharmacy with a prescription)
• Amazing Grass Green Super Food (650 mg x 5)
• Amazing Grass Organic Wheat Grass (1000 mg x 5) 
• Life Extension PQQ (Pyrroloquinoline Quinone) (10 mg)
• Therapy
• Regulating Thyroid 
• Regulating Vitamin D
• Baby Aspirin
• Tracking cervical mucus
• Tracking fertility (I like the Ovia app)

What I think worked

• OPKs - While I found that tracking my cervical mucus was the best indicator of ovulation, I heavily relied on OPKs to confirm ovulation and to identify potentially fertile days in otherwise wacky cycles (for example, when I'd have egg white cervical mucus (EWCM) but not other signs of ovulation, or EWCM was oddly early or late in a cycle).  I purchased the Clearblue Fertility Monitor at some point, but far preferred the basic Clearblue Digital Ovulation Tests and the Clearblue Advanced Ovulation Tests.  In some cycles, I used both (can you sense my desperation?).  For me, it was critical to have confirmation of peak fertility or to identify that my cervical mucus might otherwise be off. 
• Tracking cervical mucus - This was the easiest way for me to tell when I was ovulating.  There are many primers online and I found this to be an extremely accurate way of knowing when I was ovulating.
• Acupuncture - Acupuncture helped me to regulate my cycles and generally to improve my mental health throughout the challenges of the last 5 years.  I can't say whether it directly impacted fertility because I did acupuncture in conjunction with taking supplements, etc., but it made me feel better emotionally and my cycles did regulate.  When I was having perimenopausal symptoms, it helped to diminish those as well. 
• Trying to stay positive / mental health / exercise / therapy - This isn't specific, but for me trying to stay positive, even in the depths of overwhelming sadness after losing Baby L, was really what kept me going.  Hand in hand with keeping a positive attitude for me exercising, not eating a super restrictive diet, having a drink here and there, and finding things to do that I still enjoyed that were unrelated to baby-making.  Vague, I know, but it is all too easy to become completely engulfed in the world of infertility and to lose sight of everything else going on around you.  I saw a therapist after Baby L died and throughout my pregnancy with Baby B, which helped immensely.  
• Supplements & Vitamins - Generally speaking, I felt that taking supplements absolutely helped me feel better.  The two that the research shows help the most are DHEA and COQ10.  At various times, I took all of the supplements listed above, but sometimes the sheer number was overwhelming so I dropped to just taking the DHEA and COQ10. 
• Regulating Thyroid and Vitamin D - Research shows that having a TSH level (thyroid function) in a normal range, as well as normal Vitamin D levels both have an impact on fertility.  Both can be checked with a simple blood test and easily regulated if they are out of whack.  These are simple and inexpensive areas to "fix" if there is an issue.
• Tracking Fertility - I used the Ovia app to track my cycles, cervical mucus, intercourse, OPKs, etc.  You could certainly do this on a calendar, but the app makes it easy and offers insights regarding your cycle. I have found it helpful to be able to scroll back through the past few years to see what my cycles looked like when I did get pregnant, etc.

What may have helped and that I didn't mind doing

• Eliminating BPA and phthalates from our home - I got rid of plastic, checked all of my toiletries, changed up household cleaners to a certain extent, etc. I go into more specifics here if you want to know more.  I have no idea whether this impacted my fertility, but it seemed like something I ought to be doing regardless.
• Mayan Uterine Massage - I had only had one session when I found out I was pregnant with Baby C, so I have no idea whether this helped, but I continued working with the same masseuse through my pregnancy and found it helped with stress, anxiety, mental health, and preventing back pain and soreness in pregnancy.  
• Eliminating Caffeine - I periodically have eliminated caffeine entirely and generally drink decaffeinated coffee or a half caf (which is what we make at home).  I like the taste of coffee and I don't mind drinking decaf, so this wasn't a big deal for me to do.
• Baby Aspirin - Because I have a history of clotting in pregnancy, I take a baby aspirin when pregnant.  There is some evidence that taking a baby aspirin can assist with getting pregnant, so I have taken one when we were trying.  

What didn't work for me

• Restricting food, exercise, and alcohol  - I tried removing gluten from my diet, giving up running, only drinking decaffeinated beverages, and entirely giving up alcohol, but it turns out I am someone who prefers to moderate than to abstain.  I am a very healthy eater, and do not drink excessively.  My evidence is anecdotal, but I was not eating or drinking in any sort of limited way when I became pregnant and I find it is a huge drain on me emotionally.  Exercise was the hardest of these for me because I find running to be therapeutic and essential for my mental health.  Again, for each of my pregnancies that didn't end in early miscarriage, I was running quite a bit and feeling strong and fit.  One caveat to this is that I would have strictly adhered to it leading up to and during an IVF cycle, which is recommended.
• Hypnotherapy - I was glad I tried this once, but I didn't feel compelled to go back. Interestingly, the woman who ran the session told me I'd have two living children, a girl and a boy.
• Charting / Basal Body Temperature - Call me lazy, but I could never get the hang of taking my BBT each morning.  The thermometers always beep (which my husband hated), I often forgot to take my temperature before I got out of bed, etc.  I even bought the Ava bracelet, which is supposed to do this for you, but it always fell off and didn't seem to be all that accurate.  I found that monitoring cervical mucus and using OPKs were more effective for me.

Sugar & Spice

I am thrilled to share that we welcomed a healthy, screaming, beautiful baby girl on Monday, April 16th at 8:41 AM.  She weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces and is perfect.  She has a head full of dark hair like her sister and as I type this, she is resting on my chest and I am pausing to kiss her head every 30 seconds or so.

Is it just me or do newborns smell divine?  There may not be a better scent than that of a newborn baby.

Despite big sister B's requests to call her Latte Shop, Coffee, Stop Sign, and Canopy, we have named her Claire.

My c-section was mercifully uneventful. Unlike when B was born, I walked myself into the OR, got a spinal/epidural combo, had some moments of feeling absolutely terrible and like I was about to pass out, which were fixed by some sort of concoction the anesthesiologist gave me by IV, and then we started.  I was prepared with a Spotify mix called C-Section Tunes that will most certainly go viral (ha), and Claire was born to the song "Show me love" by Robyn, which seems fitting.

Our journey to have babies started almost exactly five years ago.   Since then, I've had five pregnancies, two miscarriages, one stillborn daughter, and two incredible blessings in Baby B and Baby C.  I've been staring out the window at the spring blossoms on the trees remembering spring of 2013 when I thought I'd never have a child... and remembering spring of 2014 when Q had just died and I couldn't fathom feeling happy again... and spring of 2015 when I had B in my arms and was so filled with joy... and spring of 2016 after my first miscarriage when I realized how much I wanted to have another child... and spring of 2017 when we were in Japan and I'd had yet another miscarriage and was doing my best to stay positive, get healthy, and enjoy our travels amidst sadness, disappointment, and even some anger.

And here we are.  Thanks for following along on our journey.

(By the way, it was so fun to be surprised by the gender.  I was convinced we were having a boy and I'll never forget Rob's voice saying "It's a girl!"  More on the actual birth in my next post.)

Love You Forever

Have you all read the book "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch?  We have a copy and it is one of those books that I read when I need a good cry and otherwise don't because it is a reminder of our mortality and how quickly these little kiddos grow up.

What I didn't know until this communication from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep was that the author wrote the book about his two stillborn babies.  The verse that is repeated is actually a song:

I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

as long as I'm living

my baby you'll be.

I'm feeling extra emotional today, but this song and this book tug at my heartstrings and I feel so sad for the author and his two babies.  A company called Little Orchard Co. in Canada has started the "Love You Forever Project," which includes a line of t-shirts and onesies using a line from this book: "love you forever."  Proceeds from the sale of the clothes go to Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.  From Little Orchard's website, they say the following about the Project:

This tee was inspired by my sister who lost both her precious son and daughter within 10 months. Until that happened, I didn't know much about stillbirth and infant loss.  This tee is meant to bring awareness to the issue of stillbirth and infant loss. To the army of warrior parents, grandparents and family members, who have lost their precious children, I hope it will start conversation, acknowledge stories, and inspire.  This tee was created for every person who has loved a child. Whether it was just 2 lines on a pregnancy test, whether it was before 40 weeks, whether they took them home from the hospital or not, whether they hold them in their arms, or only in their heart.

Take a Deep Breath

I am a little bit pregnant.

After a few positive tests at home over the weekend, I had a blood test yesterday morning.  My HCG beta came back (approximately 13-14 DPO) at 48.  It isn't a great number.  It is definitely in the range of "normal," but I of course would have preferred something above 100 and it is has left me scouring the internet for what is normal, what affects beta results, stories about initial low betas that double appropriately and result in a successful pregnancy, etc.

I am scared.  And thrilled.  And anxious.

Can I actually publish this post? If I do, and I speak the words out loud, will the baby be taken away from me just for daring to think it could be true?

What I know is that R is traveling for work again and I feel like I can't tell many people who know me in person, and I need to put this out into the world.

So there it is.

A Follow Up on Regrets

Dearest friends - I want to thank all of you so very much who commented on my post about Regrets.  This community that I've become a part of means more to me than perhaps you all know (although I suspect you all feel the same way).  Thank you, thank you.  R is out of town for work this week and I've been quite sad and you all just made me feel like I wasn't alone.

Reading your comments made me think of a few things about which I don't have regrets or which worked out better than I could have expected.  Part of it was people around us knowing better than we do about what we might need or want in the coming days, weeks, or months.  I'm eternally grateful for the doctors and nurses who guided us and told us what we probably would want when we were so unsure of how to proceed.

And before I detail what I'm glad we DID do, a disclaimer: everyone makes their own choices and each is right in that moment and right for that situation and family.  Please, please, please don't misinterpret any of my comments about what we did or didn't do as judgment. It isn't.  These are just the decisions that R and I made.

First, photos.  We asked to not have photos taken.  We don't have any photos of the three of us - as a family - which breaks my heart.  But we have quite a few that a photographer took of Q when she wasn't with us.  I didn't even know they took photos of her, but when we checked out of the hospital, they gave us a box of mementos with her footprint on top, and inside was a CD of photos, as well as a few that were printed.  I'll confess that I don't look at them often, but when I do I am SO glad I have them.

Second, we held Q.  You all know I wish I had done more (hold her longer, bathe her, etc.), but we did hold her.  When we initially found out that Q died, we told our doctor we didn't want to hold her, but she talked to us about it more and suggested we reconsider, which we did.  I'm thankful for her guidance and persistence.

Third, we also weren't sure what to do with Q when we left the hospital.  That probably sounds unloving, but we just didn't know.  Would we have a service?  What kind?  When?  We initially were not going to do anything, but the hospital gives you 30 days to change your mind.  Thank God.  We called back a week later and asked to have Q cremated.  We have yet to do anything with her ashes, but we will when we decide what is right.  I'm so glad I didn't leave her at the hospital.  We planned to do something just the two of us on the anniversary of Q's death, but Baby B was 2 days old and we were still in the hospital.  And now we think we'd prefer B to be a part of whatever we do.  Truthfully, we still don't know, but I'm glad that when we do figure it out, we'll have her ashes.

Fourth, we gave Quinn a name.  Initially, we were insistent that we would not name her.  We hadn't settled on a name yet and neither of us knew how we'd feel down the road.  But about 2 days after we left the hospital, I realized that I wanted to talk about Q all the time and I didn't want to call her "the baby."  For me, it didn't do her life justice to not name her.  We didn't make a widespread announcement about her name at the time, but we let close friends and family know.  When we sent out B's birth announcement, we included a note on the back where we talked about losing Quinn.  It felt so important to us to share her name and story with all of our friends and acquaintances.

These were just the things that popped into my mind as I read all of your comments.  They reminded me to not just focus on what I wish we did differently, but also to think about what we did that has served us (and Q's memory) well.

Thank you again.  And I'll leave you with some photos so end this post on a happy note!

Deciding what sort of trouble to get up to!

Chasing poor Forest.  Luckily, he is considerably faster and more stable on his feet, but it is not for a lack of effort from B.

Regrets

When I think of L (also known as Q - see this post for an explanation of names), my mind frequently wanders to the regrets I have related to her birth and the very brief time we had with her.  As many of you know, there is no way to prepare for the decisions you are asked to make in rapid succession when you know you are giving birth to a stillborn baby.  There are so many decisions and each is more torturous than the next.  

I delivered L vaginally while on more morphine than I can even imagine. I couldn't have an epidural because of my blood clot and I don't feel like the morphine helped the pain all that much, but it did make me feel completely separate from my body.  I remember feeling like I had floated up above my body and was watching what was happening from above -- I couldn't possibly be going through this myself.  For the record, I hated this feeling and wish I hadn't taken any drugs and just experienced the birth.  It is easy to say that now, but my mind doesn't handle narcotics well and I hate the way they make me feel.

R and I have never really spoken about L's delivery.  We certainly talk about her, but we mention that night mostly in generalities, so perhaps my recollection is wrong.  In my mind, L came into the world in silence (both hers and ours).  It was the middle of the night and the room felt eerie.  A doctor arrived and out she came.  The nurse asked if I wanted to hold her and I did, but not yet.  My OB arrived shortly thereafter, L was given a bath, and my OB asked us if we were ready.  R was in the bed with me and I took tiny L into my arms.  She weighed only a pound, but she looked like... well, she looked like a very small baby.  Her eyes were closed. I remember her hands seemed disproportionately large, but I loved her tiny fingers and held each one, marveling at how very much she looked like the sweet girl I had imagined growing in my belly.

We each held her and kissed her tiny forehead.  But I was still totally out of it from the meds, it was the middle of the night, and honestly the whole experience is a total blur for me.  Eventually my OB returned and took L away.  The next morning I awoke and headed to surgery.  I remember wanting desperately to have another chance to hold L once I felt aware of what was going on, but she was gone and there was never another offer to bring her back. That said, I never asked.  Admittedly, there was a lot going on with my surgery and being in the ICU, but I never asked to hold her again.  It both breaks my heart that the only time I had with her I was not myself, not cognizant of my surroundings and it makes me feel like I didn't do her justice.  I didn't spend the time with her that she deserved and that I so desperately wanted.  Why didn't we bathe her?  Why didn't I memorize every inch of her tiny body?  Why didn't I hug her and hold her for as long as I wanted to?  Was it fear and a shortcoming in my personality?  What kind of Mom does this make me?  

I have so many regrets about that brief time we had with L.  I think about it often and search in my mind for details from the night she was born to no avail.  I know there is no playbook for handling grief and loss, but I wish I had handled it differently...

(I'm feeling very sad today and this week generally, for no apparent reason.  Sigh.)

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

If you are reading this blog, I suspect you already know that today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and that October is SIDS, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month.  I know that all of us who have lost a baby or babies think of them every day, but I really love that there is a special day to honor those babies and our losses and do hope that awareness grows for these events.

Two weeks ago, we attended the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep walk in Littleton, Colorado. My parents joined us, as did a friend from my support group (and her husband and baby girl).   It was a somber experience (of course) and so wonderful to set aside a few hours to just reflect and both celebrate and allow ourselves to be sad about Quinn.  They read the names of all the babies who had been lost by attendees and it really meant to much to just hear her name.  It was heartbreaking to hear hers and so many others (and so many families with multiple names that were read).

What I didn't do that I still want to do this month is go back and look through Quinn's box (incidentally, the box that NILMDTS gave us in the hospital). I haven't looked at her photos in months and somehow I feel like I am doing a disservice to her memory.  That said, sometimes I just can't bring myself to open up the floodgates for the grief again.  I know it is good to do from time to time, but it hasn't felt like the right time yet...



I woke up to a very sweet e-mail from a friend this morning telling me she is thinking of me and attaching the image below, which is from a line of cards.  These cards were created by Dr. Jessica Zucker, a psychologist and writer who specializes in women's reproductive and maternal-fetal health.   I'm not one to drop F-bombs often, but I did appreciate the message and the statements certainly resonated with me -- it is amazing what people think will help to say.

What I'm trying to do this month is be especially joyful about my current situation (and particularly for that nugget pictured above).  I have a happy, healthy, fun, beautiful little girl and the best husband.  I have a great job and a comfortable home and life is very, very good.  Every morning when I get B from her crib, I give thanks for her and the joy she has returned to our home and our hearts.  She is such a light.  So even with the sadness that bubbles up more often than I would like, and especially this month after events like the walk, I know just how good things are.

I'm thinking of you all... while I may not know you outside of our online connection, I think of you all often, wonder how you are doing, love reading about your activities and families, and so greatly value this community that has taken me in and pulled me through some really hard times.

 

Shared Experiences

We've had a bit too much going on at home lately, so I have had little to no time to myself and hence no time to blog. My husband ruptured his achilles and has been on crutches for the last 6 weeks (2 more weeks to go).  I am now even more in awe of single parents or those of you with a spouse who is deployed or away for long periods of time.  It is hard to be the sole caregiver for a baby (and to take care of an injured adult on top of that).

If you haven't seen Sheryl Sandberg's post on Facebook about losing her husband, check it out.  Her thoughts and advice and experience with such a tremendous loss will likely resonate.  I particularly related to her loathing of the question "How are you?"  I used to want to scream at people who asked me that.  And I also loved how she said  the following:

"Option A is not available.  So let's just kick the shit out of Option B."

When I catch myself thinking of Option A (Lemon), I let myself dream of what she would be like, but also remind myself how utterly amazing it is that we have Blythe.  I wouldn't want to think of her as Option B, but you know what I mean... arriving at B was not what we planned, but it certainly is sweet.

On a completely separate subject, I've had two people in the last few weeks approach me to talk about their losses. The first was a woman with whom I connected through our acupuncturist who lost her baby at 30 weeks due to a cord accident. The second is a woman with whom I work who stopped by my desk sobbing last week.  Her daughter-in-law (who also works at our company) had just found out at 20 weeks that her baby had anencephaly and they had to terminate the pregnancy.  I don't know this woman, but she knew I had been through something similar and just wanted to talk.  It just broke my heart and it stirred up so many crazy emotions and sent me running home early to snuggle B.  Every day I am so thankful for her.  Speaking of work, I still haven't figured out working less or asking for reduced hours.  I plan to do something about it this week, but thank you all for your thoughts and feedback on the subject.

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B, by the way, is SO big!  I'm sure she is still in the 30th percentile somewhere, but she seems just huge to me!  She is rolling over like crazy (I still panic when I see her sleeping on her stomach in the monitor), talking constantly, and just so much fun.   She also has, in my wholly biased opinion, the best hair.

How was your birth experience?

Last week, B and I walked to the grocery store for a few things.  While we were waiting in the checkout line, the woman behind me said, "I'm studying to become a doula.  How was your birth experience?"

[deep breath]

I know there is always a choice in how we respond to questions like this.  I could have just said that it was great and left it at that, but I think this is an intensely personal question and is it really appropriate to ask random people at the grocery store?  

I decided to just answer but to be straightforward: "She's happy and healthy and that is all that we wanted."  I then turned back to face the other way and hoped that was the end of the conversation.

It wasn't.  She then asked where we delivered and how.  Seriously?  So I told her the name of the hospital and said that I'd had a c-section.  I got the classic disappointed look and a "Oh... well did you schedule it?"  And then I got irked.  So what if I had?  Even if I had just scheduled it because I wanted a c-section and not because of a medical reason.  Is it any of her business.  

"No," I said.  "I didn't schedule it.  I was induced and ended up needing a c-section."  [Again, hoping this would end the conversation.]

"Why were you induced if you don't mind me asking?"  Really?  I thought I was abundantly clear with my tone that I DID mind, but apparently not.  And I thought I could just tell this woman that I was induced because I have a clotting disorder or I could just be completely honest and hopefully make her feel a bit uncomfortable so she might not harass other women in the store in the future.  So, I went for it.

"I had a daughter that was stillborn," I said.  "And I have a clotting disorder."  I then went on to make a point of telling her that I didn't care one bit about having a c-section and actually thought it was pretty great.

That look that people get on their face when you mention losing a child.  It gets me every time.  She looked (finally) horrified that she had pushed so far and kept asking questions and also sad and a little shocked and then she *finally* stopped asking about my birth and started asking me questions about B.

I've never been happier for my turn to check out at a store.  

35 Weeks

I continue to be amazed that I am lucky enough to get this far and be able to write these updates.  35 weeks yesterday!  I had an ultrasound earlier this week and this little one is growing right on track (50th percentile) and weighs over 5 pounds now!  She was moving around like crazy at our ultrasound so we couldn't get a good 3D image of her, but I am happy to report she is head down (or at least she was on Monday).

Thursday was my second NST and it went much better than the first.  I ate part of a cookie at the start to get things going and she responded like a champ.  Phew.  I left this one feeling reassured rather than panicked, which is (obviously) the point.  I'll have one in each of the next two weeks and we scheduled our induction:

Saturday, December 27th!

Two weeks from today we'll hopefully be holding our little girl.  (She just kicked me. I hope this means she is equally as excited to meet us.)

R and I are spending this weekend in the mountains.  We rented a cozy cabin, we went hiking, there is a roaring fire, and tonight we are supposed to get snow.  I was reluctant to go away because there is a lot to be done at home, but it was a great decision just to have some time for the two of us.  Last night we spent time talking about names... we haven't settled on one, but we narrowed our list.  I'm having a hard time picking one at all because I think the perfect name is the one we gave L.  Does anyone have any favorite names for girls they want to share?  We are struggling!

The view from our hike today.

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So, yesterday a dear friend of mine had her baby.  She was due about a week before me and her baby arrived early (and everyone is healthy and doing great).  I need to confess something - I am jealous.  She has been married just over a year and now - poof! - she has a little girl.  Just. Like. That.  And before me!  I've been pregnant twice!

The worst thing is that this is a friend who I love and cherish and who has been incredibly supportive over the last year in particular and here I am having these terrible feelings towards her.  Obviously I am thrilled on one level, but it is these underlying feelings that creep up from time to time that I dislike but can't seem to control....

This piece appeared in the New York Times yesterday and just hit home in the most poignant way.  The author describes her experience having a stillborn son, specifically describing her feelings about having a photo of Dylan.  The last paragraph really struck a chord:

I have often looked at that photo when I have felt ungrounded and alone, because this is the life work of bereaved parents — learning to inhabit, from time to time, a kind of necessary solitude, one that permits us to cull grace from agony. It is in this exercise that we can beat back despair and permit absence to underscore a beautiful presence as we gather ourselves and move forward. I remember. David remembers. He existed; he was here; he is here still.  

I sometimes feel this way about L.  We have so few tangible things that represent her and so few people talk about her that sometimes I worry she will just be forgotten or that she didn't really exist to anyone but me and R.  The entire article is included below.

A Photo of a Stillborn Baby, Proof of Life, and Grief and Memory

By TARA SHAFER

 DECEMBER 11, 2014 9:38 AM

When I heard my brother, a writer, read an excerpt from his book about a character’s memory of the stillbirth of his baby sister, I almost fell to my knees. The scene was a gift; the private, unspoken and unseen blossoming into the public and documented. There was a him. My son Dylan, stillborn after days of labor, existed, and was remembered.

My brother, David Shafer, author of “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot,” wrote the scene based on a photograph taken by a forward-thinking member of the hospital staff after my labor with Dylan. I was well into my third trimester when a blood-clotting disorder caused placental abruption, and I knew he would not be born alive before I went into labor.

As I write this, I recall being in labor. I am struck by my fractured memories, of how much of my labor and delivery was spent fighting to be truly present in that room, of how aware I was that his stillbirth would result in the kind of metaphysical scar that forever changes us, and how dual was my struggle: to keep him and to birth him at the same time.

How do we hold on to what we have loved and lost? To help, the hospital gave me a memory box. There were so few items to share with others; to my mother I gave a tiny heart to be hung on a chain, but we kept everything else, including a photograph.

Immediately after my loss, just discharged from the hospital, I sat disheveled on my bed holding this photo out to my brother David, who had flown across the country instantly when I needed him in the full snowy depths of winter.

Why did hearing him read the scene affect me so deeply? For a decade since the stillbirth, I’d imagined a shared community around losses like mine, though such hope had been whittled away. When I heard the scene, the hope suddenly regained vivid and sharp focus. In permanently recording the loss of my son, David helped me with the sieve-like quality of memory and its impermanence, which operate within a wider social taboo telling us not to dwell on our loss, or infect others with our sorrow.

After “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot” was published, David wrote to me about the photograph that inspired the scene: “It was a Polaroid picture. Those always make the subject seem ephemeral, like a fleeting memory. So when I saw this Polaroid of a stillborn baby held by his still-living mother — my nephew; my sister — I was seeing as much a ghost, as much a spirit, as I will ever see. The image stayed with me for years; and one day I wrote it down. That is a picture of him, there was a him.”

Proof of existence is essential to integrating loss, and this is the power of documentation. About that photograph: I have been cautious about sharing such a particular treasure. Writing here is the first time I have ever revealed publicly that it exists. Cheryl Haggard is co-founder of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, a nonprofit that provides remembrance photography for families facing infant death. She says that pictures may provide parents with a sense of peace and healing because they give the bereaved a way to share their child with family and friends. She explains that from these photographs people are able to learn that these babies are important in the life of a family even though they are not physically present.

Much is captured in my Polaroid shot. As I held my dead son, I tried to trace what the memory of his physical self would be for me. I knew that he was dead, but still in his body I saw all potential that had been and gone, and even that seemed beautiful to me; I felt his radiance pulsing from him like waves of heat from stone.

I have often looked at that photo when I have felt ungrounded and alone, because this is the life work of bereaved parents — learning to inhabit, from time to time, a kind of necessary solitude, one that permits us to cull grace from agony. It is in this exercise that we can beat back despair and permit absence to underscore a beautiful presence as we gather ourselves and move forward. I remember. David remembers. He existed; he was here; he is here still.