Category: loss

celebs & pop culture, loss, musings, songs, quotes & poems

Glory.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

The past few days, the gossip sites have been abuzz with the news of Beyonce and Jay-Z’s new baby, Blue Ivy Carter. I really don’t understand why celebrities can’t just give their kids normal names, but that’s a topic for another day…

What’s captivated my attention the most has been the news that Jay-Z and Beyonce suffered a miscarriage prior to Blue’s arrival. Yesterday, Jay-Z quietly released a track on his website called “Glory,” in which he not only professes his love and pride for his newborn daughter, but acknowledges the pain and fear brought on by the earlier miscarriage.

“Last time, the miscarriage was so tragic,
We was afraid you would disappear. But nah, baby, you magic.”

And

“False alarms and false starts,
All made better by the sound of your heart,
All the pain over the last time
I prayed so hard it was the last time.”

This part of the song touched me, especially. We’ve been in so much pain since the miscarriage. I, too, pray that was the last time. We were supposed to have heard the heartbeat that day we went into the doctor and found out our baby was gone. I can’t even describe how much I’m looking forward to hearing a heartbeat of our take-home baby someday. While fear could easily consume me if I let it, I just have to focus on the big picture and know that all the pain we’ve been through will be worth it one day. As Jay-Z states in the hook of his song:

“The most amazing feeling I feel,
Words can’t describe the feeling, for real,
Baby I paint the sky blue,
My greatest creation was you, you: Glory.”

Jay-Z and Beyonce have always been a very private celebrity couple, and I applaud them for opening up about something many people are reluctant to share. Obviously, I’m guilty of this too, since I didn’t even tell my own parents until a week ago. But it seems miscarriage has always been sort of a taboo topic, and it isn’t until you actually experience it that people start coming out of the woodwork to admit that they, too, have experienced pregnancy loss, or that their sister/mother/aunt/best friend has. It’s really too bad our culture isn’t more supportive, since the statistics for miscarriage are so high – one in four pregnant couples will experience it. I think if more celebrities and high-profile people were open about it, the rest of society would follow suit.

(photo via Getty Images)

friends & family, loss

A mother’s love.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

So, I finally told my parents about our loss last Friday. I don’t know why I hadn’t told them already… maybe because we hadn’t even told them we were trying in the first place, and the only times we’ve seen them both since becoming pregnant or miscarrying has been Thanksgiving and Christmas, and other people were around and it just never felt like the right time to say, “by the way, we were pregnant… but not anymore.” I didn’t want to tell them over the phone, so I just hadn’t told them, even though it’s been eating me up since I tell them everything. Anyway, I had some time off work last week so I called them and asked if I could come over (they live about an hour away). It felt so good to spend the day with them and tell them what had happened, and they were so supportive. When I got home, I got an email from my mom telling me she was thinking about us, and that she was glad I had shared with her what happened; that she was thankful D has been so supportive for me, and that I can always count on her and my dad for support too. She said if I ever needed her, she wouldn’t hesitate to come right over.

Her note brought tears to my eyes — and still does, recalling it. If I am half the mother my mom is, I know I will be doing all right.

loss, musings, songs, quotes & poems

For auld lang syne.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

2011 has been a year full of ups and downs. Unfortunately, most of the “ups” of the year have been grossly overshadowed by one significant “down.” Needless to say, I was thankful to put 2011 to bed and am ready to start fresh with 2012.

I’ve never really given much thought to the lyrics for Auld Lang Syne until now. The title of the song, which is based on an old Scottish poem, literally translates to “old long since.” It’s become synonymous with New Years, and while the actual phrases and lyrics of the poem don’t translate well to modern English, the overall sentiment is that we should hold onto our memories and reflect on the past as we look toward the future. In other words, while we shouldn’t live in the past, we should never forget it, because it’s made us into the people we are today.

While our loss is still very raw to me emotionally, I know it happened for a reason, as D and I are much closer because of it. It’s the most difficult thing we’ve ever been through, and tough times are often true tests for relationships. It’s good to know we can go through something like this and become stronger because of it, when many couples would fall apart.

I will never forget our first baby – he or she will always have a place in my heart – but it’s time to move forward. So, as I look forward to 2012 and what I hope will be the year we get our take home baby, I’m allowing myself to let go.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For aluld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

(chorus)

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d teh gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
Sin auld lang syne.

(chorus)

We twa hae paidl’d i’ the burn,
Frae morning sun til dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.

(chorus)

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
For auld lang syne.

(chorus)

So long 2011. Here’s to a happier 2012.

friends & family, loss, musings

You can’t reason with crazy.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

One of the hardest things about not telling many people about our loss has been the baby and pregnancy references from other people. Most of these are well-intentioned — friends asking when we’re going to have kids or parents asking if we have any big news to share. They sting, but I can usually force a smile and get through it.

This Christmas, though, D’s grandma got us a very “special” gift and I’m having a hard time getting over it.

A little background to set the stage: Grandma Hoffman is crazy. And I don’t mean in a sweet old lady who forgets things kind of way. I mean in a truly lost her mind sort of way. On top of it, she is just plain mean. Even her own kids can’t stand her, and everyone tiptoes around her so as not to upset her. Not that they necessarily care about her feelings, but no one wants to hear her nonsensical tirades when something sets her off. No one will tell her which grandkids are living with their significant others, or that our brother-in-law is gay. This woman believes with all her heart that homosexuality evolved as a result of women’s lib — and I quote, “Women stopped letting men open doors for them, so men started kissing each other.”

You can’t make this kind of crazy up. But I digress…

Anyway, we often get strange things from her for Christmas, and I’ve learned to take most things with a grain of salt. This year, though, she took the concept of strange gifts to a whole new level. She got D furry handcuffs. Yes, you read that right. Furry handcuffs. Like the kind you would find in a sex store. And they came with a note. Something about how she is 87 years old and wants a male great grandchild to carry on the family name before she dies and that D can use these to tie me up and make it happen. She obviously doesn’t know what we’ve been through, and if she wasn’t so crazy I would have had some words for her. But there’s absolutely no reasoning with her, she is simply that crazy.

I’ll admit, in the 9 years D and I have been together, I’ve always just sort of laughed at crazy Grandma Hoffman. I never let her upset me the way she did to D and his sister. But this “gift” hit a nerve. I’ll probably go to hell for saying this, but I kind of hope this is her last Christmas.

health & body, loss, musings, songs, quotes & poems

To become whole, first let yourself be broken.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

I ran across the above quote today and have decided that it perfectly fits where my life is right now. I am trying so badly to accept what I have been through, and remember that everything happens for a reason. In a way, I feel like I’ll love my eventual baby that much more because of the hell I will have gone through to get him/her.

Friday night was another chapter in my journey through hell, when I ended up in the emergency room due to excessive bleeding.

Yes, after everything I had been through to make the bleeding stop, it started up again Friday night, and with such a sudden intensity that my doctor told me to come straight in to the emergency room. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life, and it was incredibly scary. My doctor said they would check to see if I was still retaining tissue, and that I should prepare myself for the possibility that I may need a second D&C. I cried. And perhaps the worst part was that D wasn’t home when I was going through all this. He was at a concert about 45 minutes away, and since he had gotten a ride with a friend, he had no way to get back early unless he caught a cab, which I’m sure would have cost a couple hundred dollars from that distance. I told him to sit tight and that I would drive myself to the ER, and if it did come down to me needing another surgery, then he should get a cab; otherwise, I told him to get home as soon as he could and I would keep him posted.

By the time I got to the hospital, things were getting progressively worse. I’ll spare the gory details, but let’s just say I was passing solid material in addition to blood. I try not to think too hard about what exactly that may have been, but I think it’s safe to assume it’s what the D&C left behind. They got me into ultrasound and determined that I still had enough tissue left behind to be “borderline” in requiring another D&C, so I had to wait while they brought in another doctor for her opinion. Eventually, they decided to take the more conservative approach and gave me an injection of Methergine (the same medication I had taken in pill form just a week earlier) and hope that this would be a final dose that would effectively cause my uterus to contract and expel anything remaining. If the Methergine didn’t do its job, they’d next look into Misoprostol, which is a suppository that’s sometimes given instead of a surgical D&C to cause the body to miscarry when it’s not doing so naturally. Instead of. Not usually in addition to. Apparently I’m just one of the lucky ones.

The good news is, I eventually did stop bleeding, and I didn’t need another D&C or the Misoprostol. At least not yet. Then again, I stopped bleeding once before. I’m terrified that this isn’t the end. I also have a million questions and don’t feel like I’m getting any answers besides “these things sometimes happen.” Meanwhile, all I want to do is try again, but my body is not letting me move forward.

Six weeks ago today, we got the heartbreaking news that changed our lives. Since then, I have been broken. When will I be whole again?

health & body, loss, musings, TTC after loss

Patience, grasshoper.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

If I had to pick one word to describe myself, let’s just say “patient” wouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind.

In addition to being the most heartbreaking and emotionally draining thing we’ve ever been through, this whole process has been a huge test of patience for me. You see, when I get it in my head that I want something, now isn’t soon enough. So when we decided we were ready to try for a baby, waiting to get a positive pregnancy test seemed to take forever. Once we finally saw those two magical lines, waiting for that first 8 week appointment and ultrasound took an eternity. And when we got that bad news, I waited one week to miscarry on my own before getting a D&C just to get it over with.

That surgery should have represented the beginning of the healing process for us. We would still have to wait approximately one month for my period to return, but after that we could begin trying again. As devastated as I was over the loss of our baby, I knew I wanted to be a mother, and the prospect of trying again was the only thing that kept me sane some days. If I could just get through this month of waiting, things would surely start to look up.

But things didn’t go as smoothly as they should have. Instead having some mild bleeding post-surgery that disappeared after a few days, the bleeding didn’t go away… in fact, it began to get heavier. When two weeks went by and the bleeding wasn’t ceasing, I called the doctor, and found out that sometimes they don’t get everything with the D&C, and I was likely bleeding because my body was trying to expel what was left behind. I waited for another week to see if my body would take care of it on its own before going into the doctor’s office, where they performed a procedure to attempt to manually suction out the contents of my uterus. One of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced in my life. She then sent me home with a prescription for Methergine, which would make my uterus contract and expel anything that was left. That was one week ago, and besides some very mild occasional spotting, the bleeding seems to be finally done… 32 days later.

Thirty-two days. By now I should have already gone through one cycle of waiting and we should be on our way to trying again. But I’m still getting a very faint positive pregnancy test, which means the pregnancy hormones have yet to completely leave my system. I have to wait for my hormones to drop before I can ovulate, after which point I have to wait approximately two weeks for my period to arrive. We can’t start trying again until after I get my period, and even then, I will have to wait about two more weeks to ovulate, and then wait two more weeks after that until I can take a pregnancy test. If it’s negative, the waiting game just got extended by another month. When will this end? When will we get our baby?

In a previous post I was optimistic about the future, and even thought there could be a good omen in the possibility of having a September baby, as we have so many September birthdays in our family. I had visions of surprising my parents with the happy news that there would be another September birthday to look forward to.

But with the setbacks we’ve experienced, September has most likely slipped away. So now I’m looking forward to October. It doesn’t hold the same magic to me as the month of September does, and it’s that much farther away from our original June due date, but I’ll take it. I really am trying very hard to be patient. I truly believe everything happens for a reason and I keep reminding myself that we’ll get our baby when we’re supposed to, whether that’s October, November… or beyond. But it’s hard. It’s hard not to look at the calendar and see where we should be, and then realize that we’re back to square one. No, we’re behind square one, since we’re still waiting to begin.

Did I mention I’m impatient?

celebs & pop culture, loss, musings

Shut up, Kourtney Kardashian.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

Yes, I know the title of my blog is a play on the reality show about the Kardashians, but that doesn’t mean I actually like any of them. I think they’re all obnoxious, self-centered and whiny. But a quote I read yesterday from Kourtney just sealed the deal. Apparently, Kourtney is nine weeks pregnant with baby number two by that d-bag Scott. And she thought nine weeks was a great time to announce it to the world. But what about waiting until the second trimester to announce like most people do? In her words:

“You’re supposed to wait until 12 weeks to tell people, but I feel confident.”

Oh I see… so confidence would have kept my baby alive? Good to know for next time. Maybe I’m over-sensitive these days, but comments like this just seem like a slap to the face for people who have suffered a loss.

Now, I wouldn’t wish the pain I’ve been through on my worst enemy, so I truly hope she has a healthy pregnancy and baby. But could you even imagine how that fame-seeking family would exploit a miscarriage? Disgusting.

(Image via eonline.com)

friends & family, house, loss, musings

Giving thanks.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

My earlier worries turned out to be unfounded, and I had a wonderful time with family at Thanksgiving. Truly a relief, and just what I needed after all the emotional turmoil we’ve been through these last few weeks. I think accepting a drink early in the day helped subtly establish right away that I was clearly not pregnant, which effectively squashed any questions before they could start. I did worry that someone would ask a seemingly innocent question about our plans for starting a family, but thankfully, the topic didn’t come up. Instead, we had a wonderful time, full of great food, games with the family and laughing to the point of tears on more than one occasion. I can’t even describe how good it felt to cry from laughter instead of sadness.

Today we had D’s dad and step-mom over for dinner. It was a bittersweet day, since we had originally invited them over with the intention of telling them about the pregnancy. We had told them we wanted them to see all the work we’ve done on the house. After losing the baby, we didn’t want to rescind the invitation, so we had to get through today with a smile, all the while painfully aware of what this day was supposed to have been. Despite this, we did have a very nice time with them, and it really was fun to show them everything we’ve done on the house.

Tomorrow is Apple Cup – another day that should be fun, but will carry with it the burden that it should have been more, because it’s the day we had planned to tell our friends about the pregnancy. I even bought a t-shirt that says “Future Coug” with an arrow pointing to the belly. Instead of wearing that shirt tomorrow, it will remain at the bottom of a drawer until who knows when. I know tomorrow will be a lot of fun, but I also know a part of me will be a little sad at the same time.

I suppose one of the downfalls of being such a planner is that when things don’t work out as I had planned, certain would-be milestones – like when we had planned to tell people – just become painful reminders of our loss. But despite the horrific past few weeks we’ve had, these past couple days have made me realize we truly do have much to be thankful for. I love my family. I have a wonderful husband who loves me and has been my rock through this whole ordeal. We have a home that we’ve worked hard to make something we can be proud of. And we have great friends who will undoubtedly make tomorrow a memorable day – even if it’s not the memory I had planned.

friends & family, loss

Happy Thanksgiving.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

Usually I love this holiday, but this year I’m dreading it. Don’t get me wrong – I am very excited to see my family, especially my dad, whom I haven’t seen in almost two months. But tomorrow was supposed to be the day we told our family that I’m pregnant. I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell them about the loss yet, which is strange, since I tell my mom everything. But telling them about the loss would require telling them I was pregnant in the first place – something we had been saving until we had the opportunity to tell them both together in person… which would have been Thanksgiving. This day has just been so built up and now that it’s almost here, it’s such a painful reminder of the baby that will never be.

So, tomorrow is going to be difficult. A big part of me wants to wait until we have good news to share before we tell them about the loss. But I let something slip about a month ago to my mom that I think raised her suspicions about the possibility that we might be pregnant or at least in the process of trying. I honestly don’t know how I’ll react if she says anything tomorrow. Some days I surprise myself with the strength to put on a smile and pretend like nothing’s wrong. Other days I break down in tears over the most seemingly insignificant things (choking back tears as I type this). D really doesn’t want to talk about it tomorrow because he doesn’t want it to overshadow the whole day; we don’t get to see both of my parents very often and holidays should be happy times. I agree with him… I just hope I can hold it together tomorrow.

health & body, loss, planning, TTC after loss

Looking forward.

Keeping up with the Hoffmans

As much as our loss still hurts, I’m finding what helps me the most is looking forward to the prospect of trying again. I won’t lie, a huge part of me is terrified of miscarrying again. But I have to keep reminding myself of what my doctor said: that we have an 80% chance of going on to have a healthy pregnancy this next time. It’s also helpful to remind myself that our friends had a similar type of loss, and went on to have a beautiful, healthy baby this past September.

Since I’m an obsessive planner by nature, I even went as far as to figure out approximate milestone dates if we’re lucky enough to conceive on the first try again this time. With any luck, my period should arrive in about 4 weeks, after which point the doctor gave us the green light to start trying again. That means I could ovulate around Christmas, and have a positive test by D’s birthday in early January. That would give us a September baby – and there is certainly something to be said about September birthdays on my side of the family. I know it’s wishful thinking… who knows if my cycle will be regular, and who knows if getting pregnant will be as easy this time around? Even if it is, who’s to say this next one won’t end in heartbreak as well? But you know what? Thinking about the future makes me happy, and that’s something I haven’t felt in almost two weeks now.