Poke. Squish.

After a disappointing check up with my neurologist this past week, I gave Neurontin a go.  I tried. I really did.  Every time I'd take a pill, even at the very low dose I had been prescribed, I turned into a zombie.  I would get up, eat and maybe shower, go back to bed, and sleep until dinner.  Then I'd eat and go back to bed again.  After several days of this, I decided that I couldn't do it.  I also remembered why I stopped taking Neurontin last time - it made me so sleepy.  In combination with the benzos, muscle relaxers, pain medicine, it is just too much.  Sure, I can live, but that isn't exactly a life. 

Adam and I decided that I'd go in for another round of occipital nerve injections, and at the same time, talk to the nurse practitioner about resuming IVIG.  When she came in, she gave me a big hug and told me she was so sorry for all that we had been through.  She had been one of the first people to find out and congratulate us when we found out that we were pregnant back in May.

The neurology department almost never allows sales people, but by chance, a sales person came by a couple weeks ago with information about a newer formulation of gammaglobulin.  She handed me the drug pamphlet to look at, and it was for sub-q gammaglobulin.  I would actually prefer sub-q treatment as it splits the monthly dose into four weekly doses that are easier on the body. 

The NP is going to look into formulations, talk to a few people, and see if we can't try the sub-q or at least a different dosing method of IVIG.  While we don't have much clinical research to go off of, there is anecdotal evidence that splitting up the dose makes it much easier on the liver and kidneys.  We'll test right before the dose, and then a couple days after the dose to see if my liver enzymes spike again.  If my liver freaks out again, then we don't have many options left to pursue.  I don't smoke or drink, and only do prescription drugs...so killing my liver isn't exactly something I want to do at 28 years old.  I did feel better after IVIG, so it would be a major setback if that is the case. 

I got my occipital injections taken care of, at least.  The NP injects Lidocaine and a steroid near the occipital nerve at the base of my skull.  It sounds a lot worse that it actually is.  This time I was super tight and could hear it.  Eww.  I feel a little like a bobble head afterwards because of the Lidocaine. 

We would really appreciate any prayers.  Please pray that I am able to resume IVIG, that it is effective and the side effects are few, and that my liver handles the job without causing my liver enzymes to spike.  Please pray that we'll find a solution that helps me to get back to living a more normal life. Thank you to all who read and follow this blog, to those that help us out with babysitting while I'm at appointments, and everyone that prays or sends positive thoughts. 

Woohoo!

We now have half of our flock doing the squat.  :)  Can I warm up the skillet yet? 

Doin' the Squat!

Snowflake is doing the squat!  We're going to have eggs soon.  :)  When a pullet is getting close to laying, they'll squat down submissively if you reach out towards them.  They like their back pet and roughed up a little.  In reality, they want some.  Yep - naughty girls.  I think that over the next month we'll have most if not all of the girls laying.  Which reminds me...I need to get some new pictures of the girls in all of their moody, teenage glory.

So far the incubation is going well, too.  We installed a fan on the top of the incubator because forced air incubators generally have a better hatch rate.  The forced air ensures that the eggs get even heating, and that the corners of the incubator are warm as well.  In a couple days we should be able to see the beginnings of embryo growth by candling the eggs.  I'll be sure to post pictures when we get there.  Emma said we should give Grandma one for her birthday since they'll be hatching out a couple days before.  If all goes according to plan, we just might have to let her pick one out.

Don't Count the Eggs in the Bator

http://thecozynest.com/showgirls.htmAfter trying to find started white silkie or showgirl pullets somewhere within driving distance, we decided to just try hatching eggs.  The cost of mailing or driving to get birds out of the top half of California just wasn't worth it.  I bid on an auction of 16 eggs from a lady with every accepted color of silkies, and one show girl in Black/Blue/Splash and White pens.  The auction said that we'd get any extras that the girls laid the day of shipping.  We also won an auction for 6 showgirl eggs, plus any extras.  The showgirl  breeder also had all of the accepted colors, plus cuckoo. (Imagine our Barred Rocks with Silkie feathers) For those that haven't shown livestock, accepted colors are those that are allowed in shows.  (Any other color combination is disqualified, and there is a process to get the colors added that takes awhile.)

We shopped around and got a good deal on a decent Styrofoam incubator with an egg turner and forced air.  I had the incubator sanitized and the temperature stabilized the day we brought it home. Wednesday and Thursday were a serious exercise in patience.  We even called the Post Office in hopes of avoiding another disaster like we had with the day old chicks.  At around noon today, both packages arrived.  I was squealing with delight.  (Seriously - that must have been a sight.)

I opened the small box of Showgirl eggs first, and carefully unwrapped the egg carton.  The Styrofoam egg carton was wrapped in what was either Chux or puppy training pads.  They actually worked fairly well as both padding and absorptive material if needed.  The seller shipped us 9 eggs, and unfortunately two were dented.  We still ended up with one more than paid for, so I was pleased. 

The larger package of Silkie and Showgirl eggs was packed very WELL.  It took awhile to get to the egg cartons because the box was packed to the brim (actually over the brim) with packing peanuts.  I had ordered 16 eggs, and I was a little perplexed when Adam pulled out three dozen-sized egg cartons.  We opened the three cartons to find 34 eggs!  The egg cartons had Poly-Fil stuffing on the top and bottom of each egg, and they were in great condition.  Each egg was labeled with the breeding pen that it came from, so we had a good idea of what colors we would be getting.  We ended up with 8 eggs from the Blue/Black/Splash pen, 3 from the Cuckoo pen, 20 from the Partridge pen, 2 from the White pen, and one from the White w/ Splash pen. 

Holy cow!  We ended up with almost twice what we expected, and enough eggs completely fill the 41-spot egg turner.  The average hatch rate for shipped eggs is around 50%, so hopefully we'll end up with about that rate.  We've warned Emma that shipped eggs can be a gamble.  Sometimes none hatch, sometimes every single egg hatches.  I'm going to make a journal for her to "help" me monitor the temperature and humidity, and anything she sees when we candle the eggs.  We'll candle at around 7 and 14 days to remove any that have gone bad.  (Boy, when they go bad they REALLY go bad...if you leave the bad eggs, they'll explode in the incubator.)

This is what Emma is hoping for:

 

white Showgirl - click here to view original

Killer Squash

Sigh.  I am back to Frustration City today.  The weekend went pretty well, and I got a tan to boot.  Saturday we went up to Auburn to a livestock sale to sell Light Bulb. She is was one of the remaining three Hamburg pullets that we had.  We're down to seven chickens for now...at least until we can find a silkie or showgirl for Emma.  She really has her heart set on a white silkie or showgirl.  If not, she wants red.  I keep trying to explain that 'red' is really more of a rust color, but I'm pretty sure she thinks the bird will be Kool-Aid colored.  

 Yesterday we went out to Camp Far West for Father's Day.  All three of us girls and our husbands/kids came, our dad was there, and the in laws. (All three sets of father-in-laws!)  It was so windy out there that we really didn't get a chance to go out on the boats.  The waves were strong enough that Emma, Maggie, and Ryann were swimming in place.  Reagan is big enough that she could actually swim against the current.  I was happy to kick back in my reclining lawn chair in the shade, though.  The one time I did go in the water, I managed to trip and fall on a rock.  My feet are bruised and cut, and so are my shins.  I'm fine, though.  Poor Emma is pretty banged up.  Coincidentally, I found out that the medical assistant at the neurologist office was there, in the same area, at the same time.  Small world.

My appointment with the neurologist did not go the way I had hoped.  He was very sensitive and supportive about the miscarriage...by the look on his face, I think that he has been there before in his own life.  Because my liver enzymes spiked last time with the IVIG, he wants to hold off and try Neurontin instead.  I was all set to get the treatment tomorrow.  The infusion center had ordered the medicine and everything. 

I've been on Neurontin before, back when it was first approved for treating fibromyalgia.  I didn't get any relief then.  Things have changed medically, so who knows if it will work now. I just...I just feel so deflated.  This past month has been such a roller-coaster ride.  The combination of everything that has happened is enough, but then I have hormones that are all out of whack on top of it.  All things considered, I'm hanging in there.  I'm not stuck in bed, or stuck in depression...it is something that hits me for a few minutes a day and I'm able to move on past it.  

I realized that since we had been gone all weekend, I never picked the summer squash.  I've realized over the years that it is better to keep on top of those things.  Forget squash for a couple days, and you have an inedible baseball bat of a squash to deal with.  We had two soft-ball sized eight ball squash from one bush, one normal-sized eight ball, a couple zucchini, a nice crookneck, and one freaky crookneck with an under-developed conjoined twin attached to the side.

Which reminds me...I bought a scalloped squash at the livestock sale for Adam.  The little baby squash are his favorite.  ✿✿✿

Father's Day in Song

This first song pretty much sums up my memories with dad.  Driving that old Jeep with hot floor boards out on a dusty road with my hair flying around in the air. 

My dad always threatened to do this, but thankfully, he never did.  Luckily he likes Adam enough that the only trips to the gun safe are to show off new toys.

Each year that I get older, I see a little more of my father in me, too.

In closing, this is the cutest darn song.  My dad and I both love music.  He's got his guitar, and I used to play saxophone. (I still want to pick that up again...but I digress.)  I have a voice but don't like to share it in front of others.  So, I'll let these two. 

If I had a Million Dollars

Things have pretty much been in stasis where my life has been concerned.  I still haven't figured out what my doctor thinks is so important to discuss that he couldn't note it in my account.  I see him Monday, and hopefully, I can resume treatment Tuesday.  I'm doing okay, and I appreciate the kind words and prayers.  Most of the time I'm okay, and then something brings back the tears.  So, instead of talking more about this, which I'm sure you've read enough of, today is different.  I'd like to play a game of "If I had a million dollars", and I invite you to play along.  Bonus points if you remember the Bare Naked Ladies song by the same name.  ッ

If I had a million dollars:

- I'd buy us a couple of newer cars.  I like my Sonata, but let's face it...it has been some work lately.

- I'd buy a house.  Nothing fancy...big enough to be comfortable and with some land for animals and growing food.  Maybe with a barn and greenhouse if I could.





- I'd buy myself a beautiful horse.  I have an empty spot in my heart for that part of my life, and I miss feeling like I am flying atop a cantering horse.

- I'd buy myself a bigger bed.  I like to stretch out, and we don't have room for anything bigger than a Queen right now.

- I'd tour Europe and visit the places that my ancestors called home.

- I'd have someone make pants for me.  It is a serious pain to find pants, and I don't have the energy to sew them anymore.

- I'd find really good cause to give some of it to.  Or maybe lots to give a little to.  Either way.

So what would you do with a million dollars?

I'm not always a mess.

Despite the outward appearance on this blog, I promise, I am not always a mess.  Lately I've been frustrated because we're spending the better part of our day sorting out employment, disability, school registration, and medical treatment issues.  That's on top of the strong medications I take that make me sleepy, and the nasty ulcers I have in my mouth.  Oh yeah, and grief.  Good old grief...you wake up thinking it just might be gone, and then it sneak attacks you at the worst moment possible.  

Thank goodness I have a loving husband that deals with the medical stuff for me.  As I mentioned earlier, just dealing with the calls can stir up anxiety that is party due to the way I was MIStreated for so long, and party because of Stiff Person Syndrome itself.  We still have no answer on WHY I need to go in to talk to my doctor about the IVIG treatment before restarting.  

He is on-call at the hospital this week, and his assistant has been unable to reach him.  She has no clue why he did this, either, and she feels horrible.  I've been flaring up for over two weeks now, and I NEED treatment.  The steroids haven't helped, so unless I want chemo meds, I need the IVIG like the tin man needs oil.  The doctor probably wants to ask something stupid that the assistant could handle, and that makes it more frustrating. I normally love this doctor, but the past two weeks have been horrible.  

First we couldn't get through because of a new staffer that can't take a message for her life, and now we're waiting for a return phone call.  The doctor's assistant suggested going to the ER, get admitted to the ER, and ask for them to page the doctor.  If I weren't already a mess, and if I thought it would help, I would do it.  The ER can't give me the IVIG, and they can't give me pulse dose steroids without reaching my doctor that is seemingly unreachable.  *Sigh*

I'm looking forward to the Gold Country Chicken Sale this weekend in Auburn.  If anyone is interested, it is the 18th at Echo Valley Ranch Feed Store.  People will start setting up at 9:00 AM, and it ends around 2:00  PM.  We're planning on trading one of our Hamburgs for a friendly bantam that Emma can use for showmanship.  She asked for "one of those fuzzballs... you know, the nice ones that like to be held."  So, it sounds like we  might come home with a silky. :)

Grrr.

I'm beyond frustrated today, and all because I can't find anyone that has their act together.  I have been in the middle of a flare up with painful ulcers in my mouth, migraines, random fevers, and spasms for over two weeks now.  I tried a steroid pack with no relief.  I NEED to get IVIG so that my body will calm down.  It took over a week to get a call back in the first place, and now after a week of getting no answers from the infusion center, I'm told I need to go in to see my doctor. Why?  Nobody will tell me. 

I haven't taken any tests since then, and I have no freaking clue why I need to readdress a treatment plan that is already established.  I have to go downtown tomorrow while I feel like crap and would rather stay in my bed all day.  I hate going to the doctor's office.  Mercy has treated me okay, but Kaiser treated me like a sack of dog poop.  I have serious anxiety issues, and it is hard to handle anything medical because of it.  I got pushed around and was told so many times that I was crazy, making things up, exaggerating, that I needed to just move on, etc.  Nobody will tell me why I need to go in, and that is not making things better.  I could have had the treatment and been feeling 10x better by now.  But no. Of course not.  Nothing goes as planned for me.  

I've been crying on and off all day out of frustration and grief.  Dealing with just one of these issues is enough, but together it renders me a blubbering ball of snot and tears.  Please pray that I can get in for treatment ASAP, and that the appointment will go well tomorrow. 

Forever Loved

My necklace came in the mail today.  It means so much to have something tangible to wear next to my heart.  I took some pictures to send back to the artisan with positive feedback.  It is beautiful, and I would recommend bugaboojewelry to anyone that has suffered a loss. 

where we've been before

Today I had the blessing of receiving the gift of my grandfather's genealogy charts, documents, and photos.  My grandpa Bill spent much of his adult life tracking down his family's ancestry, as well as that of my grandmother.  For years he has been looking for another family member to carry on the genealogical work.  I thought about it for many years, and decided recently that it was meant to be.  I have a burning desire to learn my family's history, and to share that history with my daughter.

My grandfather struggled to track history that had been destroyed during the bombings in World War II.  There are pages upon pages of letters sent to and received from the National Archives, embassies, churches, the LDS ancestry centers, and more.  I was given original photographs that are over a hundred years old.  One noted that my great-uncle, raised during the depression, reached a spectacular height of 6'7".  That was nearly an entire foot taller than the average at the time!

There are still mysteries on both my grandmother and grandfather's sides, due to deaths, adoptions, and remarriages.  The information on my grandmother's father is sketchy at best, and there is no concrete evidence.  I spoke with my grandfather about locating a relative to compare dna, and he was excited at the prospect.  He also volunteered his own dna.  The next time that the kits are on sale through 23 and me, I will have to take him up on the offer. 

I can't help but cry reading his account of how my grandmother passed away in her sleep, and how he tried desperately to save her.  How he'll be buried in the same plot as her, and they will be together in eternity.  I found a small autobiography in my grandmother's own hand.  Touching these memories brings up so many emotions, both happy and sad.  After we visited grandpa, we stopped down the street at my grandmother's grave.  Adam and I washed off her headstone.  The white granite has been dyed a rusty color in spots from the high mineral content of our soil.  We walked around and sat under a tree for awhile, all three of us holding hands.

I will be sorting through the information for some time to come, but I wanted to share a few of the photos with you.  Click on the photo to view a larger image over at Flikr.

My great-grandfather's first gas station.  Guess who could afford to buy gas during the Depression?  Yep - the Mafia.

Broken

I broke down crying in the grocery store today.  Before that I started crying at a plant nursery.  I fell into a crying, sniffling mess when I found baby supplies right in the middle of the garage floor.  I never imagined that this could be so painful and hard to deal with.  I feel so alone.  Most people will say they're thinking of you, but that is about it.  Sometimes, though, you really need those people to act.  You need them to call you. You need them to show up to give you a hug and have a cup of tea with you.  You need them to make the effort because you do not have the strength to ask for it.  You need them to respect your need to just grieve and by grieving, slowly move on.  Most importantly, you need them to acknowledge your pain and loss.

Don't get me wrong.  I've had friends that owe me nothing and are knee deep in their own struggles offer to bring me dinner.  I know I could call them in the middle of the night if I needed to.  Words can't express how grateful I am to have friends like that.  On the other hand, some of the people that I really need around me are conveniently absent.  It is hard to have to pick and choose who we allow around us at a crappy time like this.  It really hurts. 

I have had a lot to deal with, starting from a very tender age.  I may not have a fancy degree, or a career, but I have had to work ten times harder than most to get what I have.  I am tired of having the accomplishments I do make be brushed aside or trampled on.  Most have no idea what it means to struggle like that for everything that you earn.  I don't know why, but my path has not been smoothly paved.  It is full of potholes and hairpin turns. 

So please, if you love me, don't dig another hole for me to climb over.

Dirt

Our weather went from 60* with rain and hail earlier this week, to temperatures in the 80's.  So much for acclimation.  It doesn't feel good. It feels hot.  Sweaty, nasty hot.  We decided to add three feet in depth to half of the back garden beds.  It was WAY too much work to do with a shovel, so we borrowed my dad's truck and rented a tiller. 

I should have video tapped it, because it was pretty hilarious.  (Sorry, Adam, it was.)  It was kind of like a 120lb Great Dane taking its owner for a walk.  Except this thing had giant tines and could probably cut through asphalt.  It did the job of breaking up the grass and mixing in the manure, though.  We added about 120 square feet to the garden in total.  That doesn't sound like a huge amount, but it leaves us plenty of room for both flowers and veggies.

Mom asked for lots of flowers, so I planted some today.  The area around the bean teepee got a purple verbena, a yellow flowered tarragon, some pineapple sage that grows bright red flowers, pink fuchsias, a purple sage, and some white allysum. Tomorrow I'll plant another watermelon, a spaghetti squash, and some other veggies.  I'm tempted to clone some of the heirloom paste tomatoes that I have to plant when the determinate varieties call it quits.  

Here are some pictures from today...

Adam sweating away...

Volunteer watermelon...at least I'm pretty sure it is a watermelon.

Here's some poop, there's some poop, everywhere there's poop poop POOP!

My three sisters garden got overtaken by evil Bermuda grass.  That's my next task...

The summer squash is actually doing pretty well.  We've had a few meals with zukes already.

One of the raised beds that was replanted with bell peppers and tomatoes.  That's my stash for the bean teepee scattered about.

One very pissed off chicken.  They squawked in protest while Adam tilled.

Did I mention I HATE powdery mildew?  I've been having to spray weekly and it keeps coming back. Thank goodness the rain should be good and done for a few months.

This bush was a little damaged by the rain, but beautiful nonetheless.

Forgot the name for these...but they're nestled under a big rose bush with white blooms.

God bless the bees that keep me fed.

Another beautiful rose.

And another.

Happy trails to you, until we meet again. :)

Life goes on...

I've been reminded this week in many ways that life goes on.  Like it or not, it does.  For the past week we have been struggling to get an IVIG appointment scheduled.  The lovely person that kept taking our messages was not getting the whole message to the PA-C that I see between visits with my doctor.  We FINALLY got through to another person that actually knew what was going on.  Now all we're waiting for is a call from the infusion center to schedule treatment, and they should call tomorrow.  I don't know how many times I had to say that I had a miscarriage just to get this taken care of.  The words hurt, but they sting a little less with each day.

This morning I was up at sunset to get showered and ready for my yearly breast cancer screening.  My mother was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer at the age of 32.  She is a survivor in more ways than one.  The women in my family have been blessed if you will with dense tissue.  That dense tissue makes reading mammograms very difficult, and also raises the risk of cancer.  The radiologists my doctor spoke with recommended that I alternate digital mammograms with CAD with MRI's.  Because we'd like to get pregnant again, and because I breastfeed, my doctor wanted to get it out of the way so that we both felt more comfortable.  

There is no way around it - mammograms and breast MRI's hurt.  The MRI involves laying face down in on a table with boob and face holes.  It digs in and hurts because your weight rests on the lower ribs, sternum, and face.  Even with some Valium, it is difficult to lay like Superman with squished boobs for 30-45 minutes.  About 3/4 of the way through the test, contrast dye is injected through an iv.  Mammograms...well, they just squish and pinch and bind.  Luckily those are quick.  I lucked out and did not need the ultrasound that was scheduled and only needed if indicated by the MRI and mammogram.  

We stopped on the way back from the tests to pick up some potting soil.  Mom got a Topsy Turvy last year, and I finally got around to planting a tomato in it.  The Topsy Turvy got a San Marzano tomato.  We plan on canning and drying a lot of tomatoes this summer, and I've lost count of how many of each that I've planted.  I think we're at 14 plants.  Normally I'd have tomatoes by now, so I have no clue how the harvest will be this summer.  We are planning on extended our back garden bed out a few feet, and marked that out with some spray paint when we got home.  Adam is going to till it under later this week, and then we can have fun deciding what to plant.

We have harvested enough summer squash for a few meals so far, but even the squash is acting sluggish from the weather.  I'm hoping that a nice spray of kelp, some fish emulsion, and some warm weather this week will help.  I'll have to post some pictures when things are looking a little less pathetic. :)

EDIT: I found two tiny green tomatoes when I went out to spray the plants with kelp.  Woohoo!

I'm okay until...

I'm okay until...

...Emma brings me a baby blanket and tells me that it holds all of her memories of baby Avalon.  That she's going to hold on to the blanket for when the baby visits from Heaven.

...I hear Emma out on the front porch explaining to her friends that our baby died, and it won't come back from Heaven until we can try again for another.  

...I look at my knitting stuff and see the hats I had already made for the baby.  Little, soft hats in brown, blues and greens, and a mix of reds, pinks, yellows and greens that reminds me of watermelon and summer.  

...I pick up the papers from the hospital that show the ultrasound results for an empty womb.  

...I curl up in bed at night and try to say my prayers without thinking about what could have been.

One Week

It has been one week since my world turned upside down.  One week since our tiny little angel flew up to be with God.  I could never have imagined that the pain of fertility issues and miscarriage could shake me to the core.  Having busted plumbing is not fun.   I manage okay during the day, but at night I ache because of the emptiness inside me.  It was only a few weeks, but those few weeks gave me hope.

To make matters worse, my body is not making things easier.  I am hungry, but I do not feel like eating.  When I do eat, the ulcers in my mouth burn and making swallowing difficult.  I have to take a sip of water to get each bite down.  It has been a struggle to get in nourishing food at a time when I need it the most.

To make matters worse, we have been playing telephone with Mercy in a struggle to get my IVIG treatment scheduled.  As horrible as it is to say it, I am not pregnant.  It does not matter what medications I take right now.  It can't affect a baby that is not in my womb.  I am a weepy mess, and Adam has been trying to get a hold of the nurse practitioner that I normally see, or her medical assistant.  The secretary is not leaving accurate messages, and the doctor, NP, and MA have been booked and busy.  

We called to tell them I was having a flare up because of a miscarriage, and needed to get in.  The front office said to call my OB.  We called back to say that we already saw the OB and got cleared to go back to my normal treatment until I get a regular cycle again.  The front office said they needed a note from the OB.  We called back to tell them that they could pull my ER records which would show that I had a miscarriage, my womb was empty, and that my hcg levels were returning to zero as expected.  The OB was going to send a note, but in the meantime, they could see the records from the ER.  They sent a message to my doctor, but didn't tell them which hospital.  (It was one of their hospitals - I go there so that they CAN access my records.) 

I eventually got a dose pack of steroids for treatment in the meantime, but we still haven't gotten through to anyone knowledgeable to get IVIG scheduled.  I do not need insurance approval, which makes this craptastic merry-go-round even more frustrating.  All I need is for the doctor or PA to call the infusion center, and we're scheduled within a few days.  My friend's ex works in the back office at a different location, and I'm tempted to start working that connection if I have to.  What else can you do?

I hadn't talked to my dad in a few weeks, either.  With all of the craziness of the past few weeks, I hadn't told him that I was pregnant...or that we lost the baby.  He emailed to see how I was doing, and I had to think for awhile about what to say.  What a horrible bomb to drop by email.  Adam asked if I wanted to call or see him in person instead...and it just hurts too much.  I can't spit out the words without tearing up.  God bless my dad, but he is a guy and he can get that "deer in headlights" look when I start crying. 

I am supposed to meet up with my grandfather tomorrow after church to get the family's genealogical records.  For years grandpa has been looking for someone to take over for him, and for years I have thought about it.  With the great boom in availability of historical records online in the past ten years, I knew that I had to look into our past.  I can't think of a better way to put the research skills I learned at my last job to good use.  Being able to teach our daughter our family's history instead of passing on vague stories is so important to us.  I just hope that I can get through tomorrow without breaking down.

I know that this has been long.  I've always been long-winded when I write.  I wanted to end this post by sharing a gift that Adam ordered for me.  Now I can hold that memory of close to my heart.  The back will be stamped with Avalon's name.  He asked for a May birthstone to mark Avalon's month in my womb, and a January birthstone to mark the due date. 

Forever Loved, My Angel Baby Pendant

Just Those Few Weeks

"Just Those Few Weeks: A Poem About Miscarriage" 
By Susan Erling Martinez 

For those few weeks-
I had you to myself.
And that seems too short a time
to be changed so profoundly.

In those few weeks -
I came to know you...
and to love you.
You came to trust me with your life.
Oh, what a life I had planned for you!

Just those few weeks-
When I lost you,
I lost a lifetime of hopes,
plans, dreams and aspirations...
A slice of my future simply vanished overnight.

Just those few weeks-
It wasn't enough time to convince others
how special and important you were.
How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
and no one is mourning the passing.

Just a mere few weeks-
And no "normal" person would cry all night
over a tiny unfinished baby,
or get depressed and withdraw day after endless day.
No one would, so why am I?

You were just those few weeks my little one
you darted in and out of my life too quickly.
But it seems that's all the time you needed
to make my life so much richer
and to give me a small glimpse of eternity

No more tears in heaven...

obgyn oh my

Today has been easier...at least so far.  We got up early to see my new ob.  Her office is next to Sutter Roseville Hospital, and it looks like some kind of gynecological spa.  It was hard to see all of the big bellies in the waiting room, but at least I didn't start crying. 

The doctor was nice, and put me at ease.  My uterine lining was pretty thin, so I didn't need a D&C.  She got me set up with lab slips to make sure my hormone levels are falling back to 0 like they should.  Instead of waiting for a perinatology consult when I get pregnant again, she's going to send over a referral.  I need to check with the perinatologist so that I get the right formulation of IVIG when I do get pregnant again.  I also got a slip for my yearly mammogram and breast mri.  She told me to call back in three months if we haven't gotten pregnant, and at that point we'll talk about fertility treatment options.  Hopefully it won't come to that.  So, in the meantime, I am waiting for word on the hormone levels and the approval for more IVIG.  We haven't gotten the bill for the first time.  I'm hoping the bill isn't too painful.