Right. Or maybe that should be write, since I'm finally doing that again.

Things are - OK. They're fine. We're fine. I'm afraid I don't have it in me to write about this experience with the eloquence and ferocity of Bri - when it comes down to it, I'm a (perhaps surprisingly) private person. One of the hardest things for me about all of this has been losing even a modicum of that privacy. It was by choice, of course, but it was still a strange thing.

I won't say it's easy, because that would be ridiculous. I go along and feel ordinary; I'm just living my life, trying to move on. And then things happen - like Friday night, when I got an email from my cousin's wife telling me she's pregnant, due right around the time I would have been due, and here's the ultrasound picture. I sat in front of the computer like someone had just filleted me; I couldn't move. I couldn't think of anything to say or do. I just sat there staring at that email. Finally I made myself get up, go into the kitchen, tell M. She just stared at me - I guess I looked a little strange - and then I walked back out. She followed me down the hall and made me go into the bedroom, where we curled up and cried for a little while. There isn't much to say about that - it was an awful coincidence, and it hit me like a ten ton truck. But there isn't anything to say or do; all we can do is feel what we feel and go on from there. That's what it comes down to right now.

This will be my final post here on Baby Krimpet. I feel sort of funny even typing those words, for obvious reasons, I guess. I just wanted to say again how amazed I am by all of you - by your kindness and commitment and strength. M and I are stepping back from this part of the world, at least for now, and so I've decided not to keep this blog going. You can find me here, however - and I would love to know that you're still around, to know what's happening. I wish all of you, in whatever stage of this process you find yourselves in, luck and happiness and health. And thank you, again, for your kindness and compassion over the last months.

Packing it in

There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it. The baby is gone. I had a routine ultrasound on 10/3 and there was no heartbeat. A pelvic and a second, more sophisticated TV ultrasound at the hospital that afternoon confirmed it. The D&E was Thursday. M and I are doing about as well as can be expected. The last week has been awful, but we're dealing with it because, really, what else is there to do?

This sounds so abrupt, almost casual. The truth is, of course, that we're grieving and trying to figure out what happens next. The conclusion we've come to for the time being is that we can't keep trying. The physical, emotional, and, yes, financial cost is too high. I know many women have gone through this - I say that not to dismiss our grief but to contextualize it, I suppose - and have tried again and had successful pregnancies. It truly isn't the fear of another loss that's keeping us from trying again - it's the realization that we can't keep putting ourselves through this - the months of trying, of ultrasounds and obsessing over my cycle and hormone shots and hope and fear and the whole gamut of emotions. We need time. I need to feel like myself again - like I can think about something other than what's happening to my body, or rather - like I have some control over what's happening to my body. Adoption may well be in our future, and we feel good about that possibility. In the meantime, our focus is on us, and figuring out what we need and what we want.

The brief period of time I spent blogging here and being a tangential part of this community has been wonderful. I'm not going to disappear entirely, but I need some time, and some distance. I want to thank you all for being so supportive. No matter how many years I've been part of an online community in one form or another, the real life kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.

Signs and wonders

The first real indication that I've let this pregnancy thing go to my head? There's a new Margaret Atwood book out - and I didn't know. I think that says it all.

Needless to say, I will do everything in my power to drag my tired ass to the bookstore after work tonight to pick it up. I've been reading a lot lately - well, OK, I always read a lot. I read like people breathe - because I would cease to be if I didn't. But what with the being sick and home and all, I've gone through a lot of books in the last week. In truth, it's pretty much the only thing I've been doing lately. Oh, I go to work and teach and all that, but I mean other than those necessary, paying the bills sorts of things. I have not exercised in two weeks, and this, my friends, is unprecedented for me. And it's obvious, in that I am sitting here with the button of my jeans undone. Now, everything I've read (and hey, look! We're back to the pregnant thing! Just like that!) tells me that by this point I will no doubt find my pants to be a bit snug, and those people, they are right. Thing is, these pants are already one size up from the pants I was wearing just a month ago.

I haven't been eating all that well. I'm not going to beat myself up over this, because for about 4 days there, all I could put in my body was saltines, pretzels, and homemade macaroni and cheese. I don't ordinarily eat things like mac & cheese. I'm more of a soy yogurt and organic fruit kind of person. A tofu scramble for breakfast and a big salad for dinner type of woman. I am certainly not saying that I don't indulge myself, because that's why there are cupcakes, people. But I try to keep that to a minimum.

Last night was the first time in a week I was really, truly hungry. I don't get home on Thursdays until around 8, and M worked late, too, so you know neither of us felt like cooking. That amazing dish I'd been thinking about - roasted delicata squash stuffed with quinoa, roasted vegetables, sunflowers seeds, and dried cranberries, with a sprinkling of cheese on top, a side of steamed edamame, and mango sorbet for dessert - went right out the window. I called M from the train station. She looked at the recipe. She said, "Pizza?" And I said, "Oh dear god, yes." So - white pizza with mushrooms and caramelized onions. The fact that I was hungry at all was a minor miracle. The fact that I could eat onions? A major one. So I came home, put on my Go Organic pajamas, ate pizza, and watched 'Ugly Betty'. And it was good.

Embryo Krimpet

After a pretty awful weekend and some scary moments, it's an unspeakably enormous relief to report that all is well. We had an ultrasound this morning, and the doctor - a straightforward, tell-it-like-it-is sort of woman - was beaming. She said she's not concerned about the spotting, etc. at all, that it's perfectly normal. We saw a strong, steady heartbeat, very good for 6 weeks, she said - and she also said that this means my risk of miscarriage has dropped to 10-15%. Again - unspeakable relief. I am, of course, to keep an eye on things and call with any problems, and we'll do one more ultrasound before they release me, but she said everything looks great and there's nothing to worry about.

And so, without further ado, here is Embryo Krimpet at 6 weeks and 3 days ...

oofah

So the past few days have been rough, for a variety of reasons. I'm writing this from bed, where I would willingly spend the rest of my day - but I know it's better for me to get up and out so that work tomorrow isn't such a shock to the system.

I started taking the antibiotic (Macrobid) on Wednesday night. That night I woke up soaking wet with sweat, and feeling awful. It's not unusual for me to react badly to antibiotics, and after all, I do have an infection, so - OK. No big deal. I took my next dose Thursday morning, and within an hour I was a mess. I'd already been feeling nauseated, but I forced myself to eat so I could take it. Soon I was shivering and hot, dizzy, certain I was going to hurl. My boss took one look at me and said "Go home." So I packed up and left - only to realize, as I stepped off the train and started digging for my keys, that I didn't have them. M works an hour away. My parents live an hour away. Our friend B was my only hope; she works about 15 minutes down the road, but what were the chances she'd have our keys with her? Thank the gods, she did. And she got right in her car and drove them over. So I curled up and felt generally miserable for a while. Getting up to pee constantly, of course - and one of those occasions, there was brown discharge when I wiped.

I'm going to pause here to say that I never, ever in my life thought I'd talk to anyone but my doctor about my bodily functions. I am, however reluctantly I admit it, a WASP, born and raised. We do not discuss these things. Is it uptight? Probably. But I have never been a person who is comfortable with stuff like this. I'm getting over it. Fast. Pregnancy is no time to be squeamish.

Anyway - it scared me. Being in an already weakened state, what with the infection and the hormones, it scared me a lot. I spent some time curled up with my cat Seymour, crying and scared and eventually I fell asleep. It continued to happen - barely visible, something I might not even have noticed had I not been looking (obsessively). Poor M came home to find me red-eyed and sniffly and generally feeling like hell. As always, she was wonderful, and took excellent care of me, calmed me down.

M and I were both off on Friday for her uncle's funeral. Before we left that morning, I called the dr. and she said not to worry - as long as it's not bright red blood and as long as it's not heavy, it's OK. She told me to come in for an ultrasound on Monday morning so they could take a look, but she said it was nothing to be concerned about. She reminded me that I have a UTI, that I'm on medication, and that my body is going through a lot.

So we went to the funeral, and it was a long and difficult day, as one would expect. We got home around 7 that night, and I was changing, I felt it - for the first time, the discharge was visible on a pantyliner. Once again I panicked. Cried. Despaired. I was convinced I was losing the baby. I felt so awful - nauseated and exhausted and feverish. I had a feeling in my abdomen that I wouldn't describe as cramps - more a burning feeling, a sort of dull ache. I was sure it was all over. M got me to eat something so I could take my next dose of antibiotic, and within an hour I was burning up and so out of it I didn't think I'd make it from the living room to the bedroom. M put me to bed and gave me Tylenol, and I slept like I'd been drugged. On Saturday morning I called the clinic and asked for the fellow on-call. I was concerned that I was having a reaction to the macrobid, and still concerned about the spotting. 4 hours later the fellow hadn't called; I made phone call #2. This time she called me right back, and she said she would change my antibiotic. About the spotting she was simultaneously comforting and alarming, if such a thing is possible. Obviously she needs to cover herself and the practice, so she said she can't promise me that this isn't a miscarriage, but that she's really not worried about it. Brown discharge and even cramping is perfectly normal in early pregnancy - it is not at all unusual. She told me that it was best to wait until Monday for the ultrasound, since then it would be a week between the scans and they should be able to see appropriate progression to see if the pregnancy was proceeding normally. She called in another antibiotic for me, and I went back to couch mode.

One of the difficulties here is not knowing what's causing me to feel these many things. I have a low-grade fever, so I feel hot and shivery and awful. I have this sporadic lower abdominal pain that could be the UTI or could be cramping or could be from the stomach upset I'm experiencing from the antibiotic. I feel pretty much constantly nauseated, which could be pregnancy or could be the infection or could be the antibiotic.

It's now Sunday. The discharge was barely there all day yesterday and this morning, at least until about half an hour ago, where it was once again enough to show up on a panty liner. And once again I still feel lousy, I still feel scared. I know I won't rest easy until I have the ultrasound tomorrow morning. What's funny to me is that throughout the months of trying to get pregnant, all I could think about was getting pregnant. I thought once I was pregnant I'd be fine, all would be well. Now that I'm pregnant, all I can think about is staying pregnant, staying healthy for me and the embryo. I know there's nothing I can do. Two doctors and a nurse have told me with calm assurance that this is nothing to worry about. I know that the best thing for me to do right now is rest and relax and not get myself worked up into a tizzy of fear and hypochondria. So that's what I'm trying to do. I'm taking it easy, I'm reading and watching movies, resting. M is a perfect saint, fetching and carrying and soothing my fevered brow with her nice cool hands. I still have all of my pregnancy symptoms - breast tenderness, exhaustion, nausea, weeping at the least provocation, etc. All of this weepy weakness is fairly antithetical to my "eh, buck up!" nature, but I'm dealing. And learning, bookworm that I am, that reading about a thing and experiencing it are a world apart.

the kindness of strangers

Sometimes people are just so unexpectedly nice. I don't meant to sound like the worst kind of cynic (which I maybe am), but it still surprises me when people are just nice for no reason.

So I have to have the Rhogam shot. I'm not bleeding, but, while the culture was positive for a UTI, it also showed no blood. I - in my "but it's my body and I know what's happening" mode - still believe that the pink was simply a bit of blood in my urine. It was the first pee of the day, it was concentrated, whereas the sample they cultured was taken at 4 PM, after drinking two ginormous bottles of water. I have had no bleeding, no spotting, no cramping. I have a UTI. Nonetheless, in order to err on the side of caution, my dr. asked me to have the Rhogam shot. I was not happy. I've consulted Dr. Google and got a wide variety of responses, everything from "it's perfectly safe and has been used for years" to "run away! run away!" I suppose the bottom line is - I'd rather be too careful than not careful enough. I talked about it extensively with M, and she agreed, so - Rhogam it is.

I'm fortunate in that I work for the university, right in the hospital. So the clinic had someone drop off a lab slip on the gyn ward, and I was told to pick it up, go to the lab, get the type and screen, and then tomorrow morning I could go get the shot. Only, when I went to pick up the lab slip, this very sweet nurse smiled at me and said, "Come with me, sugar. Right in here." She led me into a room and told me it was silly for me to run all over the place and wait until tomorrow for the shot. She'd draw the blood right now, send it to the lab, they'd run the blood, and make up the Rhogam. Once she has the Rhogam, she'll call me and I can come back to the ward and she'll give me the shot this afternoon. She was so sweet, so generous and reassuring about the whole thing - it really made me feel better. Like someone in this medical business actually cared what was happening to me. I don't mean to impugn my dr. at the clinic - she's very nice, and she understood my concerns. But she's not always terribly on top of things with me, and the attention and just plain human kindness of this nurse meant a lot.

So now I'm just waiting for the call to get the shot. Reminding myself that I have nothing to worry about. Doing things, like blog surfing, to take my mind off of it. Hence:

Too bad, tiny-footed superhero!

I love Fussy so.

the flutter and the fear

I'm feeling a bit raw just at the moment, so my apologies if this sounds slightly hysterical. I think all is well, but I've had a rough day.

I had an ultrasound scheduled for 4 PM yesterday afternoon. M and I had the day off, so we slept in a bit. When I got up, I went to the bathroom, and when I wiped, there was a pale pink tinge. I forced myself to remain calm, told M, and called the clinic. They said to come on in. I relayed the info to my dr - it wasn't bright red blood, it wasn't even CM or discharge - just a pink hue when I wiped after peeing. They did the ultrasound, and she said everything looks great. We could see the gestational sac, the yolk sac, and there was even a flutter! M was standing there holding my hand, smiling like mad, and I was so relieved I almost started to cry. The dr. reiterated that things looked great, but said we'd do a repeat ultrasound in 2 weeks. (Now, I'm a bit - a bit! - sensitive, so I admit it bothered me when she said "Congratulations - so far. I don't want to jinx anything" and then laughed and knocked on wood. Um, OK. Way to make me feel good!)

Anyway, I was still a bit shaky, so we just laid low for the rest of the day. I was tired, of course, so I slept a bit, we ran a few errands, and that was that. Other than the now usual stuff (tired, a little nauseous if I don't eat regularly, and the sore boobs), I felt OK.

This morning the same thing happened. I peed, I wiped, and there was a pink tinge. And it occurred to me - this isn't blood. This isn't CM tinged with blood. This would seem to be urine with a pale pink hue. Might this be a UTI? Now, I've never had a UTI before, so I wasn't up on the symptoms. But when I looked it up, sure enough - it's more common in pregnancy and often not caught right away since the urinary frequency is also a pregnancy thing. The cloudy and/or blood-tinged urine. The sharp pain just above the pubic bone. The itching. You know the drill. So I called the clinic, and they said, yep, that's what it sounds like, come on in.

So I left work early and went on over. When she handed me my lab slip for the urinalysis, the nurse also handed me another lab slip, and explained that the dr. wanted me to get my blood typed. I pointed out that this info was in my chart. No, but they just want to be sure. I reminded them that I'd had a complete prenatal screening - including a blood typing - months ago. At the clinic's request. All in my chart. I got the urinalysis and returned to the waiting area, where the nurse informed me that, hey, yep, all that blood work info - in my chart! Then she ushered me into a waiting room and said the dr. wanted to have a few words with me.

Now, this just struck fear into my heart. I'm sure this is in no small part due to what I'm being told by friends is ordinary first trimester fear, and exacerbated by hormones. Whatever the cause, I was scared. The dr. came in and said that the initial 'dipstick' test was negative, but that she was having the urine culture done because she doesn't trust the dipstick method (also, I drink water all day, and pee a lot, so it was probably a fairly diluted sample). She asked me to go over my symptoms again, which I did. Then she told me, as if it would be a shock to me, that I'm O negative. I don't know, maybe most people don't know their blood type, but I've always known mine. At any rate, it was not a shock. I pointed out that the donor is O positive (we looked for an O neg donor, but my god - it's hard enough to find the right donor. Narrowing it down to only O neg would have made it impossible! We're only about 1-15% of the population!). She - the dr. who performed the insemination - looked startled, and said, "OH! This is a donor insemination!" I refrained from slapping her, and stayed remarkably calm. It's a big clinic; they see a lot of patients. Why should they remember me? Why should they, oh, I don't know, read my chart before talking to me? The dr. then said, very blithely, that if the culture was negative, and it looked like I was bleeding, I'd have to have a Rhogam shot to make sure the antibodies in my blood didn't attack the baby and kill it. I was so blindsided by this. I know about Rhogam; my mother, who is also O negative, had it with my brother and sister, who are both O positive. She'd reminded me that I'd need to get it at some point. But no one had ever discussed the possibility that it could be a problem so early in the pregnancy.

I took the news calmly, asked a couple of questions, and she said she'd call me tomorrow with the results of the culture. I went out to where my friend B, a research nurse there, was waiting for me. We took the elevator down, walked outside, and I started to cry. B was very reassuring; she told me all signs point to a UTI, and the fact that I'm not actively bleeding is a very good sign. The fact that the ultrasound yesterday was fine is a good sign. She hugged me and talked to me and did her best to reassure me, and I appreciate her efforts immeasurably. I called M at work, told her, and started to cry again. Then I made the trek up to campus and taught the first part of Toni Morrison's Paradise to a class of completely disinterested and half-asleep freshman (so half-asleep that several of them were actually nodding off; at one point, in the middle of my own lecture, I slammed my hand as hard as I could on the lectern, just to watch them jump and wake up).

And now I'm home. I'm relatively calm. I'm still peeing constantly, and it still hurts a bit when I do. I'm still not bleeding. I still have the sore boobs and the tiredness. I am still pregnant. And I am still scared. Damn it.