I wanna give up.

I just feel like giving up. Am I? No, probably not, I just need to have a big ass pity party for myself before dusting myself off and fighting some more.

I don't need people to say to me, 'well, maybe they're right' or 'you can do it!' or any of that shit, I know I can do this, I need people to tell me how fucking SHITTY it is.

Now, with that said. . . .

I had another consult with yet another fertility clinic that a dear friend set up.

It went . . . . interestingly. The conversation started off with him asking me why I was coming down there, did I want donor eggs??

. . . .which really set me off. But he sounded nice, so I behaved.

I told him no, that we were having trouble staying pregnant and that we had issues and we would prefer OUR child to be OURS. Totally not saying that kids from donor eggs or sperm or adopted aren't anyones. . . fuck it, if I offended you, fuck off. There. Didn't mean to, but yeah. Sick of explaining myself.

Anywho, I said we would prefer to use OUR sperm and egg. And then we went over the history and he tried addressing my BMI.

For those of you who aren't fat. . . .

anyone who EVER brings up BMI is a red flag to fat people. It's THEIR nice way of saying 'oh, you're a little porker' without being offensive. Lets remember that this man is asking me about my BMI without EVEN seeing me.

A BMI = body mass index. A healthy person can have a high BMI and a very unhealthy person can have a very LOW BMI but sadly high BMI= bad in our medical professions eyes.

He tried to encourage me to loose weight because they had BMI guidelines and sadly, I was over those guidelines. I had to loose 10 lbs to be put on clomid and I would have to loose an excess of 40lbs to be even CONSIDERED for IVF.

Am I fat? Yeah, I am. Could I loose some weight, yeah, I could.

But lets look at the bigger picture here. I'm gluten free. I'm hfcs free. I don't eat a shit ton of processed foods. I am eliminating processed sugars. I don't drink soda. But by his standards, on paper, I am unhealthy. I am morbidly obese.

And I feel like I'm being kicked while I'm down.

*fan fare plays* Congratulations!! You've lost your eleventh child!!! And, as an added bonus, you're too fat and there is a huge likely hood that your fatness is killing your babies!!!

. . . .

. . . .

. . ..fuck that. Seriously.

Did I sit on the couch a weep? Yeah, I did. Then I went out and jogged 2 miles and biked another 2.

But hey, I'm morbidly obese, how could I jog.

I think I have the scariest 'what if' . ... .

I feel like I'm making progress through this series of grief.

I firmly believe that people go through the stages of grief as out lined here.

I think I'm somewhere in between anger and depression. I'm still very angry about what has happened/is happening, but I'm also very upset about it too.

Lou and I talked about surrogacy today.

We talked about a lot today.

What if we have to do ART? 

What if it's me . . .or. . .him or the combination of us?

What if my uterus is scarred or . . .

What if I'm just never meant to have more children?

Bottling

Today is an angry day. 

I don't understand my train of thought on how I'm getting to anger. 

It's looking more and more that DNA wise, my husband and I aren't meant to have kids together. That our chromosomes just don't line up together. Isn't that lovely? So Liam, our son, would truly be a medical miracle. 

I look at him and I weep. I cry because he's perfect. Beautiful and brilliant. And then I cry harder because we may not be able to have more that is half Lou and half me. I have no doubt I would love children that are only a product of one of us, but it would still be a lot to process. Can we afford ART? Is donor sperm or eggs covered? 

And then, because the cart is already ahead of the horse, how will they diagnose us? We're looking at driving two hours away for assistance, so we'll have to come up with gas money, hotel, food, and copayments. Why is this so hard?! 

Can't I just throw a big ass pitty party for myself?! Shouldn't the FIRST doctor done a full work up? Shouldn't they of found something instead of saying 'you're fat' and helped us?! it's been FOUR YEARS of suffering! Four years of watching people have babies and be happy for them. Four years of begging and pleading with someone, anyone, to help us. Four years of wanting children. And we were blessed with our son. I should be happy, shouldn't I? I should be happy he has a loving family and that he's here, right!? 

Maybe I should give up. 

Maybe I should give up on people even kinda understanding what we're going through. I mean, is that fair for me to expect them to understand. For them to know I want to talk about it, I want to cry and feel loved and supported. That I NEED to talk about it?! I need to hear 'this shit is fucked up!' 

But no, I'm stuck being quiet. . . .trying to not lash out at people because I'm starting to bottle this up. I'm starting to stop answering honestly. 'How are you?" "Oh, I'm fine." Which is a big fucking lie. I'm not fine. I'm angry. I'm upset. I'm pissed off. I'm lashing out at people I love and I should be thankful that they understand it, they have an empathetic ear . . .

I just feel really alone. 

Over a Barrel

I wish I could say I'm feeling better about what happened last week. Honestly, I'm not and I wish I could articulate how I was feeling. I'm going to try, but this will probably be muddled.

I suppose the primary emotion is anger.

I'm angry that I was denied care because I was taking my health into my own hands.

I'm angry that many doctors/nurses have this belief  that women are broken. PEOPLE are broken. That we can't possibly make decisions for ourselves and if we do choose to do that, we're pushed away from medical care.

If parents choose to not vaccinate their children, for whatever reason, many Pediatricians refuse care. Some will say that it's because they don't want to be held responsible if the child contracts a disease and that child suffers harm, but some would argue this. 

But why can't we respect the parents choice, to refuse a vaccination?

If a mother chooses to VBAC in a hospital setting she is 'agreeing' to certain things. Continuous EFM or IFM, because honestly your uterus is broken and will burst, killing you/and or your baby. And because women are viewed as broken and failure is evident, you will need to have an epidural 'just in case' your body fails. Because, what a woman wants when she is looking for a VBAC is for 'her own selfish wants. Not a healthy baby.'

Really? Really. Really?!

A woman has been planning her wedding day for months. But she's told by her wedding planner 'to not be strict, things just don't work out.' The woman ignores that because, dammit, this is her wedding day and should be PERFECT. Her dress should fit perfectly. Her hair should be perfect. Her day should be perfect. She shouldn't have to settle.

But what if the florist messes up the flowers?

What if the priest shows up drunk? The photographer looses all your photos?

You'd be pissed right?

Now, isn't the birth of your child as important, if not more then, your wedding day? Why should we have to settle?

Why is it grounds for a lawsuit if the flowers are wrong or the photos are lost. . ..but in the hospital if your anesthesiologist messes up your epidural and you're in pain or the doctor has a complication and you loose your uterus. . .why is that okay?

Why are women punished because they want to have a proper trial of labor? Why is the hospital setting them up to fail?

So, I'll circle back to me and why I'm writing this: It is MORALLY WRONG for doctors to refuse care based on their preferences. It is not morally wrong for doctors to refuse care based on evidence based fact.

In my case, the Endocrinologist refused care because I wanted to HBAC, or home birth after a Cesarean.

If you look at the studies:

Fortunately, a uterine rupture from a prior cesarean with a low-transverse scar is a rare event and occurs in less than 1% of women laboring for a VBAC. With this type of scar 7 to 8 women out of 1,000 laboring for a VBAC are at risk for a uterine rupture.

Uterine ruptures have also been known to occur in some women who have never had a cesarean. This type of rupture can be caused by weak uterine muscles after several pregnancies, excessive use of labor inducing agents, a  prior surgical procedure on the uterus, or mid-pelvic use of forceps.

Research shows that the risk for a uterine scar separation is lower with each additional sucessful VBAC.

With no prior vaginal births	With 1 prior VBAC	With 2 prior VBAC	With 3 prior VBACs	With 4 prior VBACs
0.87%	0.45%	0.38%	0.54%	0.52%

Data from Mercer, BM, Gilbert, S, Mark B. Landon, MB, et al. Labor Outcomes With Increasing Number of Prior Vaginal Births After Cesarean Delivery. Obstetrics & Gynecology 2008;111:285-291.
www.greenjournal.org/cgi/content/abstract/111/2/285

You can read more here: 

http://www.vbac.com/what-is-a-uterine-rupture-and-how-often-does-it-occur/

So having looking at all that information, VBAC is not as risky as it seems. So why are physicians refusing care? Why are they telling women to jump through hoops when they shouldn't have to? Why are we reinforcing the 'your body is broken' mentality?

Why was I punished? And I was. The doctor could of helped us. I suppose at this point in time, do I want help from a person like that? Probably not, but when you're over a barrel you're willing to compromise on several things.

And I suppose that's why I'm terrified. What if the next doctor asks us to sign a form stating that we will give birth by 40 weeks or have a section? Is that fair? No, it's not. But they apparently have the power and I'm just over a barrel.

My time with a 'Dr' Amy.

I didn't meet the real 'physician' that calls herself 'Dr. Amy' but I could have.

I've been suffering from infertility for going on four years now. And while I'm blessed enough to have my beautiful son, I have 11 angel babies. Eleven.

I've gone looking (once again) for infertility help. I was always prepared that OBGYN's would be anti homebirth because, you know, we all have exploding uteruses and we need to be medically managed. I was never prepared for what happened to me today.

I called this fertility practice and got good vibes from them. The woman who answered the phones was nice and helpful. Receptive, she knew what RPL was.

We went in and talked to them today.

The doctor came out and greeted us personally and took us back. She said I was 'an unusual case' and asked if a med student could sit in and observe.

We started going over my history.

Started trying to conceive in 2007, had miscarriages in December 07, April 08, and October 08 the previous two with bloodwork.

At that point in time I had infertility testing done, tested for MTHR and a ultrasound with saline done. Endometrial biopsy done as well. At that point in time they threw clomid at me to see if it would work. I got pregnant on the second cycle, I made it to seven weeks where the heartbeat slowed (I was pregnant with twins, but lost one because it was a blighted ovum.)  They asked to schedule a D&C to which I declined because there was still a heartbeat. After the heart stopped, I requested a secondary ultrasound to confirm fetal demise. I was given cytotec and told to go home and take it. I googled cytotec and found the side effects and flushed it down the toilet and I miscarried on my own.

I harvested the baby that survived and brought it in for genetic testing. They never did genetic testing on the baby. They threw it out.

I told this "Dr." that I wasn't comfortable with my method of care in this situation and she didn't seem phased.

After that miscarriage, I conceived naturally with twins. I ovulated on both sides. One was, once again, a blighted ovum. The other, Twin A, survived to become my only living son.

She went on to ask about my pregnancy with my son. If it was eventful and how his birth and life thus far were.

I told her about my section and that I had PTSD from my sons birth. He had FTT and once we eliminated gluten he gained weight. We gave donor milk. I had Ceilac disease.

She asked how I knew I had Celiac, and I told her that I had the genetic markers for Celiac, that my gastrointestinal doctor made that distinction. While the genetic markers is not the 'gold standard' it is 98% accurate and with my symptoms it was a slam dunk.

The "Dr." then said that it has been thought that Celiac and miscarriages go hand in hand. I said I wasn't surprised that my gastric doc believed that as well.

She then asked me where I planned to birth, what hospital. I answered her honestly. At home.

She said that a VBAC at home was dangerous. That I would be risking MY life and the BABY's life and that she was refusing treatment.

I looked at Lou, my husband, and said: "She is punishing me for not lying."

She said she wasn't. I said she was. If I had lied, we wouldn't be here. She told me that sections were needed and they saved lives. There was no such thing as an 'unnessacary' section. She actually used air quotes when she said that. She said uterine rupture was DANGEROUS and catastrophic.  She played the dead baby card more then once and said if '9,000 sections are preformed and it only saves ONE life, that is okay.'

I then realized that she and I were never going to see eye to eye and that this was not the care provider I needed, so I fired back with these facts. 

She said .07% of a chance is still too high.

I then asked her about circumcision, because SURELY if she was so against even ONE baby dying due to uterine rupture she would be against circumcision which kills over 200 babies a year. I wasn't surprised when she defended the practice of circumcision. She did say it was a cultural and religious right, and that it was cosmetic surgery, but it was the parents choice, not the babes. She also said that 'everything kills babies. Babies just die.'

She touted potential benefits of circumcision (which her numbers were WAY off, she claimed that it 90% of the time prevented transmission of AIDS and STDS) and then I brought up ambiotic fluid embolism. 

Something that we can ALL agree is caused by the medical establishment.

She got upset and claimed that it was very rare, I asked as rare as uterine rupture? And this is when Lou said 'we're leaving.'

We left. I got my chart.

We walked out and I was MAD. FUMING. And I sobbed.

And sobbed.

And sobbed.

I cried for the baby I was loosing right now.

I cried for the hope that she would of helped me.

I cried for the women she would hurt.

I cried for the hope that I lost. The injustice that was happening. I cried because Doctors like her say 'it's okay if I kill someone. But it's NOT okay if you do."

I'm still crying. Crushed hopes. Crushed chances. And all because I refused to lie. I refused to mislead my care provider.

. .. .. . .I guess I should get better at lying.

Freak

That's exactly how I feel. I feel like a freak.

I'm currently loosing my 11th babe, Liam being my 12th. How do you like those odds? 1-11? The Raiders had a better record then I do.

I'm avoiding facebook.

I'm not comfortable telling everyone again. I'm not comfortable seeing babies or bellies or people bitching about their kids or morning sickness. . .because quite frankly. . .while I'm happy for them (and I am) I'm so fucking jealous. I'd happily be naucious and viciously sick. Why?! Because then I'd know my babe was safe. Things were progressing as they should. I feel at such a loss. I am surrounded by people who have so much faith in birth and their bodies. .. .. . and here I am an utter failure.

And quite frankly, no, I don't want to hear about your loss, or YOUR problems right now, so fuck right off. I want to watch Friends and be loved and bawl my eyes out, because quite frankly, THIS SHIT IS NOT FAIR!

Tomorrow I'm going to a new infertility clinic.

I'm . . .terrified and angry and. . ..I just want to hide. I want my life to not suck right now. I want a home. I want to be pregnant. I wanna be able to stop crying.

I want to be normal.

Rambling

Therapy has been going well. . . .I talked about how I'm trying so hard to organize my thoughts and the events into a coherent read.

There I go again. Worrying about what other people will think. Who cares, really? I can rationalize it, if women who were hurt during labor and delivery take something from this or empower themselves or seek help, I've helped someone, right?

But what about me?

I kinda come first here.

anyway,  that was the point of my therapist. I shouldn't think about what I'm trying to write, I should just get it out. Help myself. I may not be in a place that I can heal others, because quite frankly I'm not healed myself.

I have moments of clarity where I feel great and at peace with it all, then I want to lash out at people for not appreciating their gifts. Not having to loose babies over and over again. Be disrespected by people who you thought loved or cared about you, be told that you're a shitty mother. . . .Like seriously?! Maybe I should be going postal.

I guess that's where some people loose me. I really don't let people in. It appears that I do, openly, freely, completely  but then there are times when I clam up and keep everything to myself. It could be because I'm afraid of judgement of other people or what they might think. . .. or it could be I'm ashamed of myself or something that I did (or didn't do.. .) and it's because of this that I really think people don't get me.

It's all perception.

People assume that I'm hot headed because that is what they 'see.' But I'm trying to over come years of programming where I was told my needs/wants/ concerns were less important then the needs of the many or others.

So it's hard for me to say loudly that I have issue with something because I'm afraid I'll offend/hurt the other person. So we go about conversing until I've tried and tried and tried and tried to gently get my point across then I give up and get blunt. So people assume that I'm 'a blunt hothead.' that I can't be diplomatic or that I'm just running on pure emotion. And that honestly hurts.

I guess it hurts because I guess on some level I hope/wish/expect my friends to really understand/get me. And they, like me, aren't perfect. They don't know what I don't tell them. So I try and over communicate. I repeat myself to make sure that I've got my point across. . . .then I realize I didn't and people still don't understand me.

So . . .maybe I should just fucking give up.

Anyway, this is the blog I'm working on . . .or trying to. Sad thing is, I'm still way too raw from what happened.

Way too raw.

******

Shit. My heart is racing. I feel scared. I shouldn't feel scared, but I do. I've been dragging my feet, I offered to write up how my son was born for a series Guggie Daly is doing . . ..and. . ..I'm terrified. 

I'm scared how people will respond. I'm scared of putting myself out there. I'm scared to just write/read the words to describe what they did to me in the hospital. 

I've been trying to blog it out, but I had some comments sent to me and I stopped. I forget that people read blogs. And those people aren't all like minded or kind. You see, I didn't have the easiest time staying pregnant. I have been diagnosed with a condition called RPL, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss. 

People very often want to help. They want to offer you help and most of the time it's unsolicited. And sadly many of those offering help, put their foot in their mouth. 

After being worked up at the infertility clinic, I'll use that term loosely. They did a shitty workup and were patronizing at best. I was put on clomid and quickly ended up pregnant, I miscarried. The OB kept calling me her 'fertile Myrtle' because it was so easy for me to get pregnant. When we lost the heartbeat she encouraged me to have a D&C, but I declined. She even wanted to schedule the D&C before we lost the heartbeat as, 'it didn't look good, and at least with a D&C we could have viable tissue to work with.

When I refused I was sent home with Cytotec. I was told there were NO side effects. I didn't trust her, so I googled. We all know, or should know, what comes up with Cytotec. 

After that miscarriage, I'm sorry this is already a book, we got pregnant with twins. We lost twin B, VTS, but twin A was strong. I had a horrible pregnancy. Many ultrasounds. Complications. Panic. Who could blame me? I was afraid to enjoy the pregnancy. I was afraid to get attached just to have it stolen away. By then I had lost six babies, nine now. 

At our 20 week ultrasound we were told we had a boy and there was a complication. He had a single artery cord. We had to come back for an Echo and had to have follow ups. During this time I was in love with mymidwives and I was encouraged to change it up so I was familiar with the four of them. Every visit we would see another midwife and the ultrasounds stopped. If they had kept going they would of seen that my water broke and my son stopped growing, but I digress. 

My 'due date' came and went. I never had a cervical check. I was proud to be an informed mama. The receptionist kept asking me when they were inducing. I told her I wasn't. I was told they wouldn't let me go past 42 weeks. Who won't let me do what?!

I woke early in the morning on January 26th to strong prodomal labor. I thought . . .THIS IS IT! I couldn't get comfortable. I kept on all fours on the bed and hummed. Hubs called work and told them he probably wasn't coming in. This went on from four am until 7am when I went to the bathroom and found green. It confirmed my fear that the water had broken at some point in time and he had passed his bowels. I was NOT informed that this was a normal part of birth, and called my midwife to check in. She asked me to come in so she could check us out. If she found meconium I would be staying. We packed up the car and off we went. 

Let me tell you, the drive to the hospital was FUCKING HELL! I was still in, what I thought was, active labor and every bump, every stop, every turn was torture. WHY didn't I stay home? I asked my husband this three times and he said 'well, we can turn around.' 

Should of listened. 

We got to the hospital and he unloaded me and I waited for him. I got on a bench and hummed quietly. People came to help me, I told them I was fine! I was just having a baby, I wasn't sick!

We got up to the labor and delivery floor and I told them I was here for my midwife. I was shown a huge birthing suite. The nurse asked me to lay in the bed and before she could say anything else I asked for a birthing ball. My midwife came in and talked to me, timed out the contractions. I was asked again to get into the bed and I refused as I was more comfortable on the birth ball. The nurse sat on the floor and held the EFM on me. She didn't register any contractions, but we had a strong heartbeat. I threw up and I said to myself. . . .'THERE IS NO WAY I'm in transition.' I read things that said 'throw up= transition' well, no I wasn't. But it was THAT that made my Midwife want to check me. I was 0 cm dilated and 40% effaced. That was shattering. 

She did a PH test and didn't find fluid. She told us we could go home. I should of. 

She asked if I wanted to do the ultrasound

**** Have to stop.