TTCSW

Trying to Conceive as a Single Woman.  I think this is a new term we should use, because doing what we’re doing as single women is TOTALLY DIFFERENT than trying to conceive with a husband or partner.  For example, I just lost my baby.  Was there anyone there to share equally in the grief?  No.  Do I get to just have free, abundant sex with my husband or boyfriend in order to “try again”?  No.  Can I just keep on trying (and potentially miscarrying) for free until finally the chromosomally healthy egg meets with the chromosomally healthy sperm?  No.  So as a single, *almost* 39 year-old woman, Trying to Conceive is not a sprint, nor is it a marathon.  It’s more like a triathlon.  Or maybe a very complex, very expensive obstacle course that expires when you reach a certain age, whether you’ve made it to the finish line or not.

So here is what the last few days have been like.  Started to miscarry (or have a chemical pregnancy, or blighted ovum, or whatever you want to call it) on Wednesday.  After sitting around wondering what to do, decided to go to the emergency room because it seemed like the responsible thing to do, although if I could I would take that back now, because the tests they ran only gave me false hope (they said they didn’t see an active miscarriage going on…but they didn’t see any evidence of pregnancy, either) and will probably cost me about $500.  Within about two hours I started to bleed in earnest so there was no question as to what was going on.  Could have saved that trip and that money, for sure.  Since I was about to leave on a five day tour of the east coast I thought it was time to fess up to my co-bandleader and his wife.  So I went over to their house and told them all – that, basically, I’m pregnant, and might be having a miscarriage as we speak, so I don’t know what kind of condition I’m going to be in during our trip.  They were shocked to say the least (they had no idea I was doing any of this) but super supportive and helpful; when I texted him the next day that I had miscarried they immediately drove over and took me to dinner.  It was really lovely and something I so needed at the moment – both a woman, and a man, having sympathy for me, and saying they’ll always support me no matter what.  Not that I expected anything different, but...you know.  You know how it is.

So the next day we left on our trip.  The gigs were good – and I appreciated the distraction.  But the sadness seeped through anyway; I cried a lot, and desperately wanted to be home in bed with the puppy where I could wail like an animal with nobody judging me.  All I could think of was “every time I see pictures of myself on this gig I’ll remember I was in the middle of a miscarriage right at that moment.”  And this is true.  Also being on the east coast reminded me of my aunt, and the last time I saw her alive last summer, and how all of this came from that, and here I am experiencing even more loss.  All of it really made me start wondering – is anything good EVER going to happen to me?  Or is it just going to be one horrible depressing thing after another, for the rest of my life?

Of course this is the self pity talking.  I believe I’m entitled to a certain amount of that.  But I don’t intend to stay in it for long.  Had you asked me last week, “so…are you planning on trying again?”  I would have said “Hell no, I can’t take any more of this; I’m DONE.”  But then a funny thing started happening.  I found myself clicking over to my WTE app, checking for when my next cycle might start.  I started googling things like hope after a miscarriage, pregnancy rates after chemical pregnancy, success after chemical pregnancy, etc.  I spent a lot of time on the “Grief & Loss” board of the WTE app, reading with special interest the “Share your success stories after loss” thread, which had months and months of women sharing their birth stories after miscarriage.  A friend who had several late-term miscarriages assured me I would forget all the pain and want like nothing else to try again.  At the time I thought, “no way, not me.”  But you know what?  She was right.

I called the clinic from NY yesterday and miraculously got someone on the phone.  They were of course sorry for my loss.  They told me pretty much what I already knew – that this pregnancy just wasn’t viable (they used the term blighted ovum based on the fact that no egg sac was seen on the ultrasound…but I prefer the term chemical pregnancy), that we can of course proceed with the system that worked for me last time (Femara + careful monitoring) and I should wait for one more period so I know when CD1 is (I’m assuming this will be in about a month or so); they also mentioned if my donor has not succeeded in getting anyone over 35 pregnant that I may want to consider switching donors, which I am open to.  They said they’d run some reports for me.  They also said if I have another chemical pregnancy that they don’t recommend proceeding – that it’s time to get aggressive.  Which scared me, but I don’t know why, because I had already decided the same thing – one more chemical pregnancy and it’s time to move on to mini-IVF.  At least then I get an idea of how viable my eggs are.  I suppose I could move on now, but I guess I want to see if this loss was just a fluke or an indication of my overall egg quality – I could succeed next time and only spend another $1500; I think that’s smarter than plunking down $9000 right off the bat.  Again, if money were no issue…but it is.  So, the plan is to try again in August.  If no pregnancy I may move on at that point; if  another loss then I will definitely move on.  If it sticks, well, then…hooray!

I’d like to talk about the horrible feeling of loss, the crushing disappointment, the sadness that comes from some deep primordial place inside of me that I can’t even explain.  I’d like to talk about the misery of deleting the pregnancy apps with my old due date (Feb 22) off of my phone, of throwing out all my Kaiser paperwork, of canceling my pre-natal appointment that was supposed to be this Friday (and they won’t take a cancellation over the computer, so now I have to call them and tell yet another person that my baby died), of back-pedaling with nearly everyone I (stupidly) told already (won’t do that again – another lesson learned; keep your frigging mouth shut until the 2^nd trimester!!!), of realizing with horror that I did NOT get off the hook, that this is now going to get very expensive and complicated and stretch into my 40^th year, and I may NEVER achieve a pregnancy again, and even if I do, I may NEVER be able to carry a baby to term, ever.  Even more fun is that fact that I’m having some kind of phantom limb thing going on where I still get this faint tugging sensation in my right abdomen that for six days I thought was my baby implanting and growing.  I may in a year have to throw my hands up and say I failed.  But in a year I may have a healthy baby.  It’s like some kind of sadistic roulette wheel.  I had a friend once say she didn’t believe in God, but said if there is a God, he is a sadist.  Tonight I’m believing that.

But there is also this.  I’m not going to say I wasn’t thrilled I was pregnant, because I absolutely was.  But I was also terrified, and by Wednesday so sick I could barely function.  The first thing I thought after the initial high of the positive test was, “oh shit, I have to leave on tour in a few days and I have my event next month…how the hell am I going to do all this…?”  And as the nausea grew day by day I found myself in a near panic.  It was getting to the point where I pictured myself bedridden, totally unable to think or focus or do anything, and this with the four days I make my entire living for the year looming just a month away…it was horrifying.  I was happy to be pregnant, but I often found myself thinking “this is the worst possible timing!  What the hell am I going to do…?”  Of course I had no idea I’d be that sick or feel that terrible – but I know now!  So am I happy I miscarried?  Of course not, I’d give anything to be pregnant again.  But am I relieved I feel well and don’t have to be super careful with everything I do between now and my event in three weeks, which is a non-stop marathon of intense, crushing stress, heavy lifting, no food, and no sleep?  Absolutely.  I still look at food and can’t believe it looks appealing to me, and can’t believe I get so much pleasure from it.  It was a joy to be able to travel all weekend, perform, be up late, get no sleep, eat crappy food (or not), be able to fulfill my obligations, and work at my full physical capacity.  Everything between last week and end of July is going to be insanely stressful, demanding, and require every ounce of my physical and mental strength just to survive.  Is this a good time to be at a delicate point of a pregnancy?  No.  Am I relieved I get to try again when it’s all over and I can frickin’ relax and focus on just TTCSW for a while?  Yes!

If only I had a crystal ball and I knew there was a healthy baby at the end of this path…but don’t we all wish that, all of the time?  I could look back on this horrible incident and say, “see, that first one wasn’t right because the timing was wrong, but then the next month I got pregnant again and that one stuck…”  I so hope this is my story, but who knows.  My story may be I Went Through All This Only to Discover None of My Eggs Were Viable, or It Turns Out I Can’t Ever Carry a Baby to Term and Nobody Knows Why, or I Spent $9000 on Mini-IVF and All I Got Was This Lousy T Shirt. 

Only time will tell.

PS - thank you, THANK YOU all for your kind condolences.  They meant more to me than you'll ever know!