So, I guess some of you can call this part three.  I’m calling it a freeze.  Or a something other than either one of those things.  I don’t know, I would rather not call it anything.

I decided to rip the bandaid off last week and share what was going on in my life.  I’d dealt privately with the shock of a surprise pregnancy, and surprise twins.  A few people knew, but mostly, it was just ours to ponder.  It was an overwhelming thing to ponder that I sometimes felt was drowning me in heaviness.  It was just a lot.

I desperately wanted to be elated.  Pregnancy is a blessing, right?  Babies are a gift, no?  There was no particular way I was hoping people would react.  There was nothing I was expecting to hear.  At least I didn’t think so.  I just needed to have my friends and family to hold my hand and ease me in to the days ahead.

What I wasn’t expecting, is 48 hours from posting “part one”…I would no longer be pregnant with two babies, or any baby at all.  I hadn’t expected that reality when I posted announcing that I was pregnant.  If I had expected it, I would have kept it to myself I think.  If I had thought it would happen the way that it has I would have stayed quiet until I knew how to open up about the end.  If I had known…

I didn’t know, and the way the last few weeks have played out has taken a number on me.  Thrown me back and knocked the wind out of me.  I don’t have the personality to feel pity for myself for long, I feel things for what I think is a comfortable amount of time and I move on.   In the middle of bad things I verbally talk about all the ways it could be worse, how other people have dealt with worse…and hope that people don’t think I am trying to get sympathy.  I don’t know why this is a complex I have…but it’s how I cope.

The problem is, I don’t feel pity and I don’t even want to talk to people enough to tell them it could be worse and move the focus to my problems to how they could be worse.  I find myself going into myself, directing everything inward.  I can’t think of a time in my life I’ve ever felt the way I do now, and there’s no one to direct it at.  So I silently rage, inside.  Today I was asked who or what I was angry at/about.  Where it was directed, I couldn’t even get an answer out.  I am just…angry.  Over everything and nothing.  Over things I can’t explain and things I don’t want to.  At situations and things that were in my control and those that weren’t.  At statistics and stories and odds and facts.

And until I can cope with this rage, I am trying to stay away.  Not to spare others, but to spare myself.  If I allow it out, I don’t know if I will be able to stop it.  I can’t tell if this is healthy or not, I’m sure not.  I am hoping enough days of ignoring it, of denying it in to action…a few days eating ice cream, trying to get Sophia and Holden to play blocks together, and watching movies on the couch with my kids will help.

I am working hard to will this from making me a person I don’t want to be.  I am working hard to find my belief in all of this overwhelming anger.  I am not sitting here pretending this is all something it’s not, or pretending to be ok.  I want to, I wish I could. I wish I could just say it’s fine.  But it’s not. And I’m not.  And because of that I feel angry.  Anger on top of anger on top of anger…

Thank you for your support, and I hope you understand why I haven’t replied to emails, or comments.  Why I haven’t had the words.  Because I know even this…even these words make no sense.  That this is the worst post I’ve ever written, and I can’t even try to read it to edit.  I am just angry, and I just need to figure out how to get to a place where I’m not anymore.

Tweet

{ 19 comments }

The monday after Test Day…was stressful.  I was armed with all the statistics. The changes of carrying a baby to term with an IUD that couldn’t be removed but was safely in place.  The chances of miscarrying when an IUD is removed.  How many IUD’s fall out. How many IUD’s end up having gone through the uterus and hanging out in the abdomen.  How many pregnancies with an IUD are tubal. How many are viable.

All these numbers and stories and things.  Running through my head.  And when the midwife takes a look and says she can’t see strings, my heart starts spinning and the focus of the stat’s adjusts.  If it’s in there now, he can’t be removed. If it’s not in there, where is it? I don’t have any clue what the best option would be.  I don’t know what to want.

She has me come in to their ultrasound room, and she tells me. She’s not really good with ultrasounds. She doesn’t really know if she can even find the IUD, if it’s in there. So this ultrasound doesn’t mean I’ll know anything.  I’m thinking “great”.  She looks, and looks, and anyone who has had this kind of ultrasound knows it’s not really comfortable. And she thinks maybe she sees the IUD.  But she doesn’t know for sure.  So she prints off a photo, and sends me on my way.

Hours upon hours of phone calls to doctors offices. Doctors offices that turn me away because I’m too “high risk and ethically questionable”.  It felt…hopeless.  All these risk that even I knew about, and you’d think the medical community would be wanting me to come in NOW! Instead they were running for fear of malpractice or something.

That Tuesday (for those keeping track this is 4 days after Test Day) I finally found the doctor, my doctor.  He wanted me to come in right away!  FINALLY someone who could give me answers, who wanted to know exactly what was happening so we could figure out a safe plan!

I hop anxiously up on the table and he looks.  He looks and looks with out talking.  And I look and look like I know at all what it would look like if I saw it.  And he tells me with out a shadow of a doubt that there is absolutely no IUD in my uterus. It’s just…missing.  It could have fallen out (remember 1 in 100.  And most don’t even notice.). It could be in my abdomen (most don’t even feel it happening.  Happens to 1 in 1000).

A week after this eye opening Tuesday (A week and a half from Test Day), I find myself back on the ultrasound table.  Spotting brings me back to see my super awesome doctor and another look inside the ol’ ute.  The moment he sticks the wand in I know. I see it.  I’ve had well over a dozen ultrasounds in my life.  I saw it. But he didn’t mention it, yet.  He focuses on the baby, and measures, and sees the tiniest of heartbeats.  A heartbeat that probably just started with in the last 24.

And then HE drops the hammer.

THERE ARE TWO. 

Yes. That happened.  There was another. Just like I saw when the wand first went in.  Twins.  Identical twins.  We couldn’t see much of Baby B.  He couldn’t get a good angle, and wasn’t sure if Baby B would be viable, if it had a heartbeat, if it would get a heartbeat.

Instead of an IUD, there are babies!'

So, the ride isn’t over yet.

On Tuesday I find out if Baby B is going to be a case of a Disappearing Twin, or if this is happening.

Twins.

I decided to go ahead and blow the lid off of this because no matter what happens at this point, this game changer means I need support. The past two weeks have been insane and scary.  And I don’t see the scary times slowing down. 

Tweet

{ 46 comments }