I Think, Therefore I Am

Before I get all deep here, I want to give a little background on my approach to life. About 3 years ago I read the book, The Secret. At first, I was a total skeptic just like a lot of folks. But, I'm a pretty open-minded person, so I read it and soaked it in. A basic principal is that anything we want from life - we can have. We just have to believe we will have it, be genuinely thankful to the universe for giving it to us (before actually receiving it), and then "manifest" it. One chapter challenges you to to start small. It suggests trying to manifest a cup of coffee or a parking space. I was living in NYC at the time and one of the things I dreaded the most was trying to catch a cab in rush hour or bad weather. I decided that I would try to manifest cabs. I started by convincing myself, "I always get cabs" and would repeat this mantra over and over until I believed it.

No joke, cabs would literally pull over to pick me up before I'd even lifted my arm to hail them. I started to have a lot of fun with my "magic trick" as I would impress friends while attracting cabs in the most unlikely circumstances. One night in particular made me realize there really was something else at work than "magic" per se. It was rush hour and I was standing on one of the worst corners in Manhattan - right near the Holland Tunnel. It was FREEZING out and there wasn't a cab in sight. I repeated my little mantra to myself, "I always get cabs... I always get cabs..." and within a minute, a cab turned the corner and picked me up. As soon as I got inside the cab driver said to me, "The weirdest thing just happened to me." I asked what. And he said, "I was heading in a completely different direction, but then I got a strange feeling like I should turn onto this street. And there you were."

I will never forget that moment. It was then that I truly believed I could manifest anything. After mastering the art of attracting cabs I also manifested an apartment, my husband, and our future home. But those are all stories for another day. Let's talk about today. Today I am working on manifesting a healthy pregnancy.

So what exactly does that entail? I believe I need to surround myself with positive thoughts for the future. I've been picturing my burgeoning belly. Imagining the shared excitement of my husband, parents, in-laws, friends, midwife, acupuncturist, and readers of this blog. I'm thinking about what it will feel like to be so excited to pick out baby clothes. To decorate our baby's room. And eventually to hold our baby in my arms. For that baby to grow into a child. And for our family to begin to take shape.

I downloaded an mp3 last week called, "Visualizing Pregnancy" which is a rather calming and lovely guided meditation. I knew virtually nothing about it when I purchased it (just checked out a clip on itunes), but I liked what I heard. The other day I listened to it in its entirety for the first time and practically burst into happy tears. The woman behind the recording applies all of the principles of The Secret that I've already been trying to do on my own. One thing she stresses throughout is to imagine what it will feel like to have a healthy pregnancy. And, thus, the name of today's blog post. I will continue to think it, and allow it to become real.

Aw, Mittelschmerz!

My husband and I realized the other night how much fun it is to say, "Mittelschmerz!" to each other in our most convincing German accents. Go ahead. Give it a try!

MITTELSCHMERZ!

The notsomuch fun part? Actually experiencing it.

When I was in my early 20's I began suffering from a recurring paralyzing pain in my lower abdomen.  I'd be in the middle of dinner with friends or worse, a date, when the pain would start slowly... creeping up on me with subtle cues. The first sign was as if I had eaten something gaseous. Like a barrel of beans. But the feeling was way more crippling than gas pains. Within a few short moments, my lower body would bloat noticeably and the pain would deepen. Turning a night out socializing into a complete failure. I remember the empathetic looks of concerned friends, suggesting I go to the doctor. I would tell them, "I think I'm ovulating" before I would hobble off and head straight home in a cab, clutching my side as if dying from appendicitis.  My ovulation theory seemed to make the most sense. This started happening almost every month about halfway through my cycle. So I used my deductive nature to piece the clues together. I thought (hoped) this must be normal. And as I recently discovered, it most certainly is.

Mittelschmerz, as it turns out, happens to 20% of women right around ovulation. I've read varying opinions as to what causes it. Could be the egg bursting through the ovarian wall. Could have something to do with follicular growth. One thing is certain - it is nothing to be worried about. In fact, it's a blessing in disguise. Mittelschmerz actually alerts you (in a really painful way) that you're ovulating. And this is important news for anyone wanting to get (or avoid getting) pregnant.

I feel like a bit of an idiot. All these years I thought I knew about my body. But I really didn't. I mean reallllly really didn't.

One of my best friends recommended the book, "Taking Charge of Your Fertility" to get-to-know the not-so-mysterious signs and signals of our bodies. I bought it right when we started trying to get pregnant and barely made it past the first page. I was afraid it was TOO scientific. I got scared. I didn't want to have to THINK about getting pregnant. I just wanted to do what billions of people have done for ages. Sleep with my husband and make a baby. Ta-daaa!

After the miscarriage, I picked the book back up again. I practically devoured the pages, reading the first 60 straight through. It wasn't high science. It was full of "aha" moments. It was here that I first read about Mittelschmerz.

It's amazing the plethora of information that I've learned in the past few weeks. My body has been communicating with me for 20 some-odd years in a language I didn't understand. There was the "gross, disgusting, stuff" that I kept hush-hush about which turns out to be perfectly normal (and healthy) cervical fluid necessary for making babies. Which shows up just prior to ovulation, screaming at you, "we're fertile now"! I learned that sperm can live up to five days, that tracking your "waking temperature" and cervical fluid is the most reliable way to deduce exactly when you're at your peak fertility, and that your temperature goes up anywhere from .4 - 1 degree right after you've ovulated.

I've been tracking my waking temperature every morning with the help of my husband (*as an aside, he's not actually necessary, but it's a nice way to keep the hubby involved). The past few days my temperature was exactly the same: 97.5. And after my "Mittelshmerz" pains on Friday into Saturday I wondered... does this REALLY mean I'm ovulating? Will my temperature increase on Sunday morning? Today my waking temperature was 97.9.

Ta-freaking-daaa!

Baby-making should be fun, spontaneous and enjoyable. But knowing a little bit about your body ain't such a bad thing either.

Wonder Fertility Woman

Since the sting of miscarriage has [mostly] subsided, my focus has been 100% dedicated to bettering my mind and body for our next go-around. I've been reading fertility books, doing Weight Watchers (I gained 10 lbs during the pregnancy), exercising regularly (yoga and The Firm workout dvds), meditating, charting my basal body temperature (bbt) and cervical fluid plus going to acupuncture treatments. Some may think this is all a bit extreme. Obsessive, maybe. Overwhelming, perhaps. I see it as a necessity. Physically, my body may be ready to get pregnant, again. But I must proactively work on getting the emotional part in order.

One of my friends recently complimented me - telling me I was so strong. I like to think so. But I also think that strength is directly tied to resiliency. I have been knocked down many times in the past - mostly during the highs and lows of dating - only to have to force myself to get over it and move on. Although this time, it's not as much about getting over it as it is about getting back up again. We want a baby. And although I am mentally prepping for success, the reality is another miscarriage is not out of the realm of possibilities. One of my dear friends had three in a row before having two beautiful boys. Three! Each time having to manage the disappointment and sadness. And each time having to pick herself back up again and decide she was ready to try again. Resiliency kept her going. And rewarded her with two healthy pregnancies. I need to believe I can manage anything on my journey, while having faith that our next pregnancy will be a healthy one.

So I am eating better, moving more, reading more, believing more. Am I obsessing? I don't think so. I see myself as focused, driven, and dedicated to my next pregnancy. I see myself creating a warm, inviting environment for my future fetus. I see myself as a master in visualizing an adorable baby that looks just like the perfect combo of me and my husband. I see myself moving forward... towards making my future family a reality.

Overheard at the OB-GYN's office

Thursday was a big day for me. Meeting with the midwife, the surgeon who performed my d&e, and going to an acupuncturist who specializes in getting women knocked up. The midwife, as always, put my mind at ease. I have zero regrets about choosing to involve a midwife in our childbirth plans. I had heard there is an extra-added element of emotional comfort. And so far I have had the most incredibly patient, kind, and caring folks to deal with. Including the receptionist for the midwife's office who has had to talk me off the ledge about 10 times. Maria is the face (and voice) of that office and does everything in her power to make you feel cared for and human.

Unfortunately, this was not the case at the OB-GYN's office. In all fairness, the doctor who performed my surgery and who met with me on Thursday was wonderful. Sweet, caring, and patient as well. A young mother herself, she seemed to identify with the loss of a pregnancy. I wish everyone in her office could have a similar sensitivity.

When I walked in for my followup appointment her receptionist did not even make eye contact with me. I scribbled my name on the sign-in sheet and sat down directly across from her "unwelcome" window, waiting for her to acknowledge me. This never occurred. She was focused on her task at hand, making lots of phonecalls to other patients in a somewhat controlled voice. Since I was sitting within earshot I could hear her phonecalls word for word. And suddenly, I realized who she was calling.

"Hi Cassandra, your appointment is tomorrow at 3pm. Don't have anything to eat or drink after midnight. Go to the Same Day Surgery on the 2nd floor of the Main Building..."

A few boring facts that evoked an instant flashback to the phonecall I had received just two weeks earlier. She was calling all of the women who had miscarried and setting up their surgeries. At first, I felt sorry for myself. I immediately remembered the sadness of accepting the loss of my pregnancy. Feelings flooded back that I had managed to either push past or push deep down for the last two weeks. What were the chances that I would be sitting there, within earshot, at the exact time the receptionist would be calling all these women? Didn't she have a clue that someone like me might be sitting in the waiting room? Couldn't she see my discomfort? Why didn't she slide her damn window closed to muffle the words I did not want to hear?

Once I got over my own mixture of anger, sadness, and sick irony, I started to feel something else. Empathy for these other women. And the harsh reality that this receptionist probably made phonecalls like this to women like me several times a week. There are so many of us. So many women who were so happy to have conceived... so happy to be growing a baby in her belly... and then so sad to have her hopes suddenly destroyed by miscarriage. It made me think not only about the phonecalls that receptionist has made in the past - probably thousands - but the phonecalls she will make in the future.

My midwife told me that 1 in 5 pregnancies ends in miscarriage. She said it's a lot more than you'd ever think. But once you have one - you realize there are so many other women out there, just like you. Instead of looking at miscarriage like an epidemic, I'd rather think about the community that we can, and should, create. Those of us who have gone through it can help the others who may one day experience it themselves. We need to be here for each other. And not keep our miscarriages tucked up inside. We should be able to talk about them, share our feelings, and most importantly - move on.

Thursday evening's appointment at the acupuncturist renewed my feelings of hope. She was an OB in China, but for the past 11 years she has solely performed acupuncture in the US. Mostly on women with fertility problems or who have had miscarriages. Her walls were covered with letters and pictures of all of the babies she helped bring into the world. Part way through my treatment, she told me to look at the wall and picture my letter up there. I smiled to myself and told her, I already had.

Waiting For Flo

When you're trying to get pregnant, Aunt Flo is the dreaded enemy. Every month you cross your fingers that she's spared you. Every day without a sign of her is a good day. And once you get pregnant you hope she stays the hell away. Because our pregnancy had such cryptic signs in the beginning I was constantly checking my underwear and toilet paper for a glimpse of Flo. I never spotted during my ill-fated pregnancy. Not once.

Today, things are different. Flo is like my long lost friend I've recently reconnected with on facebook. I am waiting for her arrival day after day after day. This time, she will have a long awaited homecoming. Imaginary streamers, balloons, and fireworks for Flo.

Although many people are not emotionally ready for awhile after a miscarriage, we are. We are so ready that we would start trying again today if it was doctor approved. Technically, we could get pregnant right now. But it's not advised. You should let your body recover, let the uterus shed what it needs to and allow the lining build back up (note: these are not actual medical facts - just what my brain processed at the midwife's office this morning). My midwife (and surgeon) both said we should wait a full cycle. As in... ovulate... get Flo... ovulate... get Flo... and THEN start trying. I balked at this instantly. I'm 37. My husband is about to be 44. We're no spring chickens. My midwife smiled and said we didn't have to wait a full cycle. She said it was O-K to start doing it after we got Flo.

So I wait... patiently...

PS. My two weeks of "nothing in vagina" is officially over. Hoorah for tampons once Flo shows up!

Granny panties and sanitary napkins

During my 8ish weeks of pregnancy I realized that, at some point, I would most likely have to transition out of my daily thong to something a little more practical. I fantasized about stocking up on full coverage Hanky Panky's - a lacy and comfortable alternative. Those dreams were quickly put on hold when I found out about my missed miscarriage. Underpants would still be a theme. Just not the kind I'd been dreaming about.

The day of my d&e I packed a bag to bring along to the surgery. I wasn't really sure what to expect, but had a feeling I might not be prancing around in my thong afterwards. I have two separate underwear drawers. One for my thongs and the other for my backup "granny panties". Most of them are stretched to capacity - the elastic barely flexing. Why I kept them all these years is a mystery, but that day I was thankful for the stash. I picked out a pair without holes that had somehow remained in tact for the last 10 years and threw it into my bag.

After the surgery I slipped on my oversized panties with a maxi-pad I had brought with me just in case. I should've known this was not a "just in case" situation. This was a "welcome back maxi-pads" moment. Which was confirmed when I received very clear instructions on my discharge sheet:
Nothing in vagina for two weeks

Besides the obvious, this also meant that I needed to do the unthinkable and actually stock up on sanitary napkins. I hadn't worn a pad since middle school. And the memories were not good ones. As I scanned the "feminine hygiene" section at Super K-Mart I realized I remembered nothing about wearing pads except for the discomfort. Did I need long, regular, heavy, winged, thin, super long, super fragrant, super compact...? I stood in the aisle for 10 minutes without a clue. Not only did I not know what to expect out of these pads, but I didn't know what might be coming out of my body. I had some light bleeding right after the surgery, but wasn't sure if it would increase or decrease. Would it be like a full-blown period? Light spotting? Would I need to change the pad every couple of hours? I finally realized I had no choice but to buy a medley of sizes, shapes, and brands. When I got home and looked at my pile of pads my visions of sexy maternity underwear slipped away and two weeks of humiliation, sticky pads, and wedgies came into view.

One full day of wearing long, winged pads and I was over it. There was no way I could wear pads every day for two weeks. No way what-so-ever. Luckily, in my buying spree, I had picked up a package of "thong panty liners" - probably the greatest invention in pad history. My bleeding was very light to practically nothing at all. I needed something, but I didn't need a diaper.

I opened my preferred underwear drawer and reacquainted myself with my good pals, the Hanky Panky original rise thongs. It's amazing how something so small can make such a big difference. I felt a little more human and a little closer to normal. And suddenly, the next two weeks didn't look quite so bleak after all.

We Wanna Be Parents

My husband and I were hitched in June 2010 - just a little over 6 months ago. He's in his early 40s and I'm in my (sigh) late 30s. We're both childless, but have both always pretty much wanted kids. I'm the kind of person that attracts kids like a magnet. Usually, they are completely unaware of the age difference between us and think I am there not to socialize with their parents, but to play with them. It's been like this ever since I stopped being a kid myself. And because of it, I've always dreamed of the day when I would have children of my own.

My husband wanted us to start trying while we were engaged. But having been told many years ago that I was "very fertile" I was afraid we'd get lucky and I'd wind up barefoot and pregnant on my wedding day. I wasn't afraid of the social stigma, but rather the fact that once pregnant you cannot be on a diet. And in order to look somewhat decent in my wedding dress I had to drop a few pounds - not put them on. We decided I would go off the pill on our honeymoon and start trying straight away, which we did.

Month after month I continued to receive my dreaded monthly gift aka Aunt Flo aka the curse aka my period and I was constantly disappointed. And fear started to seep in. I'm not 27, I'm 37. You hear all the dreaded statistics. Could it be that we would have fertility problems? What if I couldn't get pregnant? Month after month I was taunted by the possibilities... until... the faint blue line.

The day after Thanksgiving, after 3 negative pregnancy tests earlier that week, I was a 8 days late for my period and finally got a faint positive line on my pregnancy test. When I say faint I mean it was BARELY there. If I held the test up in the exact right light at precisely the correct angle, you could see it. The line was there. I made my husband rush out to the store to get another test. This one was pretty clear. Instead of a plus sign it screamed at us: "PREGNANT"!

I almost couldn't believe it. After the months of disappointment, here was the big thumbs up we were hoping for. But how was it physically possible? We had only done it TWICE in November. He had started a new job and I was in a diet and fitness kick. We were constantly exhausted and had put our "ttc" attempts on the backburner. And yet... here we were... PREGNANT!

As quickly as the excitement started to sink in, so did the possibilities that something was not right with this pregnancy. I went to my midwife for a blood test to confirm the pregnancy and was told that my hcg levels were low. Which was concerning. Low hcg levels can mean a slow to develop pregnancy. An ectopic pregnancy (where the fertilized egg never makes it out of the fallopian tube - something that happened to my husband and his ex-wife) or a blighted ovum where a sac develops but an embryo never does. It could also mean there is a chromosomal abnormality. Quite instantly, I started to feel my heart sink. I felt in my heart like something was wrong.

A second blood test confirmed my hcg levels had risen - they are supposed to double every 24-48 hours and they had. Hooray! We scheduled my first ultrasound which was due to take place around 8 weeks. And now, disappointment #2. As I got onto the table and the tech began to look around, she only saw an empty sac. I appeared to only be 5 weeks pregnant. Not 8.

She told us that it could be a blighted ovum. But that she would give our pregnancy the benefit of the doubt. We had to come back in a week to know for sure. In a healthy pregnancy within a week there is a lot of change. If all was okay, we should see something that following week.

Those 7 days were horrible. I was depressed every day. Literally waiting to miscarry. I am not a negative person. I am always looking for the positive and always believing the best will come. But during those 7 days, I could not see anything positive. I was convinced we had a blighted ovum. But then - two days before Christmas - we saw an embryo and its heartbeat! I was in shock. The tech was so happy for us, but was quick to tell us we were not out of the woods. She dated us at 6 weeks. Which could be fine. Or there could still be a problem. She reminded us that a slow to develop embryo could be a chromosomal abnormality. There it was again. That damned dread. They needed to see us again two weeks later. January 6th. A day after my 37th birthday.

If you've been feeling the ups and downs of my journey, you can imagine what I was going through. The highs, the lows, the highs and then... we hit another low. And this one was about as low as you can go. January 6th, at our 3rd ultrasound, the tech looked around and around and around and did not see what we were hoping to see. She told us that the baby stopped growing and there was no more heartbeat. The doctors refer to it as a "missed abortion" but I've heard "missed miscarriage" and prefer that expression. It seems that after our little miracle of seeing a heartbeat it was only a matter of days or possibly even hours before our baby stopped growing.

They scheduled me for a "d&e" on Friday - two days ago. And since then, I have been (as you can imagine) a mixed bag of emotions.

Thursday was pure sadness. Crying... crying... and more crying. Have you ever watched the show, "The Locator"? It's a tear jerker. And was basically my free therapy for the day. There was a Locator marathon on and I cried about every 20 minutes for the entire day. I was afraid to go to sleep that night. Was I going to trick myself into thinking I was still pregnant? Was I going to wake up with a start and remember the nightmare that had become our reality?

Friday morning I awoke to a surprising feeling of peace. This baby was not meant to be. It just wasn't. From the start, there seemed to be something wrong. From that faint blue line. To the low hcg levels. To the small sac... I hoped and prayed and wanted everything to be fine. But it wasn't. And now I had to deal with the reality. I had to accept what happened.

I do not judge anyone else who has been through what I have and if it has taken you longer to grieve and cry and be depressed. You must go through your own grieving process at the pace that is healthy for you. My journey was to stop grieving after having been distressed for so long. My journey was to finally be at peace and to stop worrying and wondering and looking back. My journey was to look forward - starting on Friday.

The hospital staff was incredibly sensitive, human, and delicate. I was completely knocked out for the d&e. Which I am incredibly thankful for. I have been in minimal physical pain since. And, emotionally, I am feeling good. Hopeful. And excited for what is to come.

I am still sad for our loss. And I may always have some sense of that loss. Our first pregnancy that was not meant to be. But I also realized something. That this was a part of my journey. And getting through it just means I am one step closer to meeting my future baby.

I have started this blog to document the rest of my journey. The fertility methods I am currently reading about. The fitness I hope to achieve this go around. The closeness I continue to develop with my husband. The ups and downs. The good, bad and ugly. All that and a bag of chips (or brownies, or ice cream or pizza or whatever you may crave once you get knocked up - my cravings were out of control). Please join me on my journey and share your stories - I'd love to hear them.

-wbm