This past Sunday marked 22 weeks in my pregnancy. My little snowflakes are mere weeks away from viability now, and though my desire is for them to stay in there as long as they can (preferably 36-37 weeks so that I can deliver them naturally before my scheduled c-section at 38) the knowledge that something could be done for them in the next few weeks, has me mentally counting down the next 12 days until they reach that milestone.

I never did this type of countdown to viability with Peyton. I just assumed with Peyton that all would be well, and my pregnancy coasted along rather smoothly. At forty two weeks, after my second induction had failed, Peyton came into this world via c-section. I truly believe she would have stayed in there forever if I had let her, and sometimes I wish I had. Inside of me she was protected, my body provided for her what her own could not, and I truly believe that the happiest moments of her life were those spent in my womb.

With my snowflakes, I have been sort of forced to take the possibility that I may not reach the 36+ week mark into consideration. With any multiple pregnancy, the likelihood is a little higher for not going fully to term, and when you compound that with the fact that this SCH predisposes me to premature rupture of membranes and pre-term labor, you end up with this perfect storm of worry that has prompted this big count down.

Just this week, two woman on my SCH support board have gone into early labor (one whose OB told her the night before that her SCH had fully resolved), and it scares the life out of me. These women were just 22 weeks and change, and barely 25 weeks along, and their stories make it feel as if reaching that point of viability cannot come soon enough.

Though full of many, many blessings, this whole pregnancy has been pretty complicated. My issues with the bleed in my uterus continue, and though I have not actively bled in a while (thank God!) my last ultrasound showed that the SCH had grown a bit. Three weeks ago it had gone down to 5.5cm which was great news, but last week grew to 7.9cmx3.5cm - so roughly a little over 3 inches by a little over 1 inch, and though my Peri told me she was pleased with the size, seeing as how 7.9cm is only 1.1cm from the size my SCH was at the time of my first "big bleed," I didn't find a whole lot of comfort in that number.

As of this weekend, I have hit the 2.5 month mark of being on bedrest, and have come to terms with the fact that it what it is - a necessary means to an end. Bedrest is kinda boring, kinda mentally exhausting, but necessary so there is no point in fighting it. Every few weeks I will have a day where I want to get out of my house and run down the street, or go up Peyton's hill, or pick up groceries, or do any of the things that I feel physically capable of doing, but I can't, and I just have to cope with the reality that laying around like a lump all day every day is what is best for my babies, and move on.

Things have also gotten a bit more complicated this last month because I have developed some fairly annoying cardiac issues. For about six weeks my heart has been racing on and off as I lay here, with my resting rate having long spells of being between 120-130. I went to the cardiologist who told me that laying down causes the blood in my heart to pool, and when that pool pushes through my heart, that causes the rapid heart rate. He put me on a 48 hour holter monitor and the very morning the holter monitor went back, my heart went into arrythmia, and has pretty much stayed there since. There are long 2-3 second pauses in my heart beat every 4 beats or so, and while the doctor has promised me it is not affecting the snowflakes, the sickening feeling it gives me (like that of having a panic attack or someone stepping on your throat) makes me feel anxious, even when I am not. This is making "relaxing" a little harder to do because I constantly feel unable to breathe and like my heart is a cement mixer tumbling around in my chest.

I sound rather geriatric don't I?
But that's okay.

I constantly remind myself that this is all temporary, and in four months time will reap a huge payoff, and somehow thinking about it that way helps.

I got an email from a friend the other day where she was talking about some of the worries she is feeling about being pregnant after loss. In it she said something really beautiful, and regardless of our given situations right now, I think it's a bit of advice we can all use. She said that she could feel stressed, or she could feel blessed, and she was opting to feel blessed.

I have been reminding myself of these words a great deal the last few days. Yes it is not ideal to be having all of these health issues, and yes bedrest is a bore, but I am blessed, so blessed, with two little snowflakes that have decided to kick and punch and let me know day and night that they are here and they are thriving. I have a lot to feel stressed about, but I also have a lot to feel blessed about - so, like my friend, I am going to (try) to go for that.

Here is my latest belly bump pic taken last week. I have some fairly recent ultrasound shots, too, that I just need to get uploaded, so hopefully they will appear in a post sooner than later.

Again, I am putting lots of space here for anyone for whom this might be a trigger. Sending love out to all my fellow infertiles who are trying for their own bumps, and my fellow babylost mommas still waiting on their rainbows. I pray that this happens for you all sooner than later.
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This past Sunday marked 22 weeks in my pregnancy. My little snowflakes are mere weeks away from viability now, and though my desire is for them to stay in there as long as they can (preferably 36-37 weeks so that I can deliver them naturally before my scheduled c-section at 38) the knowledge that something could be done for them in the next few weeks, has me mentally counting down the next 12 days until they reach that milestone.

I never did this type of countdown to viability with Peyton. I just assumed with Peyton that all would be well, and my pregnancy coasted along rather smoothly. At forty two weeks, after my second induction had failed, Peyton came into this world via c-section. I truly believe she would have stayed in there forever if I had let her, and sometimes I wish I had. Inside of me she was protected, my body provided for her what her own could not, and I truly believe that the happiest moments of her life were those spent in my womb.

With my snowflakes, I have been sort of forced to take the possibility that I may not reach the 36+ week mark into consideration. With any multiple pregnancy, the likelihood is a little higher for not going fully to term, and when you compound that with the fact that this SCH predisposes me to premature rupture of membranes and pre-term labor, you end up with this perfect storm of worry that has prompted this big count down.

Just this week, two woman on my SCH support board have gone into early labor (one whose OB told her the night before that her SCH had fully resolved), and it scares the life out of me. These women were just 22 weeks and change, and barely 25 weeks along, and their stories make it feel as if reaching that point of viability cannot come soon enough.

Though full of many, many blessings, this whole pregnancy has been pretty complicated. My issues with the bleed in my uterus continue, and though I have not actively bled in a while (thank God!) my last ultrasound showed that the SCH had grown a bit. Three weeks ago it had gone down to 5.5cm which was great news, but last week grew to 7.9cmx3.5cm - so roughly a little over 3 inches by a little over 1 inch, and though my Peri told me she was pleased with the size, seeing as how 7.9cm is only 1.1cm from the size my SCH was at the time of my first "big bleed," I didn't find a whole lot of comfort in that number.

As of this weekend, I have hit the 2.5 month mark of being on bedrest, and have come to terms with the fact that it what it is - a necessary means to an end. Bedrest is kinda boring, kinda mentally exhausting, but necessary so there is no point in fighting it. Every few weeks I will have a day where I want to get out of my house and run down the street, or go up Peyton's hill, or pick up groceries, or do any of the things that I feel physically capable of doing, but I can't, and I just have to cope with the reality that laying around like a lump all day every day is what is best for my babies, and move on.

Things have also gotten a bit more complicated this last month because I have developed some fairly annoying cardiac issues. For about six weeks my heart has been racing on and off as I lay here, with my resting rate having long spells of being between 120-130. I went to the cardiologist who told me that laying down causes the blood in my heart to pool, and when that pool pushes through my heart, that causes the rapid heart rate. He put me on a 48 hour holter monitor and the very morning the holter monitor went back, my heart went into arrythmia, and has pretty much stayed there since. There are long 2-3 second pauses in my heart beat every 4 beats or so, and while the doctor has promised me it is not affecting the snowflakes, the sickening feeling it gives me (like that of having a panic attack or someone stepping on your throat) makes me feel anxious, even when I am not. This is making "relaxing" a little harder to do because I constantly feel unable to breathe and like my heart is a cement mixer tumbling around in my chest.

I sound rather geriatric don't I?
But that's okay.

I constantly remind myself that this is all temporary, and in four months time will reap a huge payoff, and somehow thinking about it that way helps.

I got an email from a friend the other day where she was talking about some of the worries she is feeling about being pregnant after loss. In it she said something really beautiful, and regardless of our given situations right now, I think it's a bit of advice we can all use. She said that she could feel stressed, or she could feel blessed, and she was opting to feel blessed.

I have been reminding myself of these words a great deal the last few days. Yes it is not ideal to be having all of these health issues, and yes bedrest is a bore, but I am blessed, so blessed, with two little snowflakes that have decided to kick and punch and let me know day and night that they are here and they are thriving. I have a lot to feel stressed about, but I also have a lot to feel blessed about - so, like my friend, I am going to (try) to go for that.

Here is my latest belly bump pic taken last week. I have some fairly recent ultrasound shots, too, that I just need to get uploaded, so hopefully they will appear in a post sooner than later.

Again, I am putting lots of space here for anyone for whom this might be a trigger. Sending love out to all my fellow infertiles who are trying for their own bumps, and my fellow babylost mommas still waiting on their rainbows. I pray that this happens for you all sooner than later.
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Last Spring, I stumbled upon a video about infertility entitled "What IF?"

At the time when I first saw it, we were knee deep in grief over Peyton and had been trying desperately for nearly 9 months, without success, to achieve another pregnancy. The previous December, I had gotten the news that an infection from my c-section had left both of my tubes scarred beyond any usefulness, and that my only option, and not a guaranteed option at that, was IVF.

I was in shock.

For over a year after Peyton's birth I had complained to my doctor that I wasn't ovulating or menstruating. When she gave us the green light to try again last June, and I failed to conceive, I knew something was wrong. Through it all, my OB explained my infertility away as the result of me "grieving too hard." "If you don't get over this," she would tell me, "you will never get pregnant."

Lying alone and half naked on a steel table at the hospital, my unresponsive tubes glaring down at me from a monitor overhead, a sympathetic doctor delivered to me the news that I would never again be able to conceive on my own. "There is no justice in this world," she told me, taking a deep breath, and as she did, any last shred of hope that I had held onto for a family of my own, flowed out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

In that moment: grief stricken and infertile - I felt my life was over.

Discovering that I had lost my fertility after losing my only child undid several months of healing, and brought a million questions to my mind. Hard questions. Painful questions.

Was I still a woman if I couldn't conceive?
Was I still a mother if my only child was dead?
Was I still a Catholic if I was willing to pursue IVF when the church is so strongly against it?
Was I still a wife if I couldn't give my husband a family?
Were we still a couple if making love could never create a life?

For someone who just a year and a half prior had been a confident 28 year old, with a promising career, thriving social life, happy marriage, and first child on the way - the downward spiral of those 18 months took me to the darkest depths of my life. Everything I believed would be suddenly felt like a lie, and the truths that I was facing were hard to swallow:

I had lost our child.
I had lost our fertility.
I had lost our hopes.

That's not a typo. I HAD LOST these things, or at least that's how I felt. In my mind, the blame for all of our losses and failures, were mine and mine alone.

I don't know why I always viewed hubs in a different light than myself. In many ways, I saw him as a victim in all this. He had married me and I had failed to hold up my end of the bargain.

Maybe it was because our IF issues were with my body?
Maybe it was because when he proposed he told me he wanted to "grow old together and have lots and lots of children," and the realization I couldn't give him that made me pity him for staying with me?
Maybe it was because I was Peyton's mother, and our miscarried baby's mother, and mothers always blame themselves.

All I know is that when I stumbled across this video, it struck a deep chord with me. I had, for months, been asking myself many of the same questions posed in the video.

What IF I lost my sense of self to my infertility?
What IF I lost my sexiness to infertility?
What IF I lost my spouse to infertility?

What IF?
What IF?
What IF?

Today I was looking around on the internet, and once again came across this video. As I did, the tears came, but they were different somehow. Today I cried tears of gratitude. Though I had felt so sure just six months ago that infertility would beat me, today I realized that I have beaten infertility.

It took over a year of trying, months of hormone injections, the pain of twisting an ovary, Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome, 4 weeks of bed rest for the Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome, the heartbreak of learning our first cycle had failed, many, many, MANY hours of therapy to deal with the above mentioned feelings, facing a second cycle after failing the first with no explanation, a bleed that has kept me on bed rest since week 12 and in all likelihood will continue to keep me bed ridden for the next 20 or so weeks, tens of thousands of dollars, countless tears, fears and anxieties, and all the emotions that go into having a high risk pregnancy after loss, but I am here - pregnant - full of hope - and very grateful.

I guess that is why I am writing this post. To let others on their own infertility journey know that I get it. I have been there, at the bottom, the very bottom. I have questioned every aspect of myself, my worth, and my life. I have wondered if joy would ever again return to my heart. If I could ever give my husband a family. If I could ever survive this, and the answer is yes.

There is always a chance.

Sometimes we have to wrestle with these big questions to find our way, but in the end, we can all get there. For us, a couple who lost their fertility to birthing a dying child, our chance came with IVF. For others it comes with surrogacy, or IUI. Medications, or adoption.

I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know that it is looking brighter once again, and that is something that once felt impossible.

I guess that what I am trying to say is that it is only when we open our eyes and our minds to all of the possibilities in front of us, even those that we fear or resent or are unsure of, that we can find pathways to hope.

Here is the video that had such an impact on me. I am sure for those of you haven't seen it before, or are viewing it a second time, you will feel it resonates at some level with you too. (Be sure to pause the music player in the right column of this blog to hear the video.)