CD22, 7dpo

This is that crappy time of month where I sit around and wait until it starts becoming rational to POAS. I'm trying to hold out until Saturday, which would be 13dpo, but I know I lack self-restraint (and am not sure I didn't ovulate a day earlier, on CD14), so we'll see. (This is also that time of month where I imagine that everything happening in and around my body is a sign that I am pregnant rather than a sign that I am obsessing and losing it, but I'm going to ignore this issue for now.)

It's sad to me that tomorrow is New Year's Eve and I have no real plans other than not drinking on the off chance I might be pregnant or might have a chance of becoming pregnant in the coming days. It seemed as though no one we knew had plans, so I think my brother and SIL and a few other friends may be coming to our place and then heading to the city to see fireworks at midnight. I wish we had a child (or that I was still pregnant) so we would have an excuse for having such a lame NYE. Maybe next year.

Miscarriage news round-up: Later December

Stories from around the world over the past 2 weeks:

• Charges against a shocked Pennsylvania woman who placed her miscarried fetus in her freezer while she sought guidance as to what to do have been dropped. Perhaps there are details that have been omitted from this article, but I have to ask: what the f*ck is wrong with that DA, bringing charges against this poor woman in the first place? I suspect this will be one of those stories that bothers me for weeks after reading it. (And I may have to start a "What-the-f*ck-is-wrong-with-people story of the week" feature.)
• Another story of a miscarrying woman not receiving appropriate treatment at a New South Wales, Australia hospital. Apparently, the fetus had died a month earlier, but the woman was twice told that the bleeding she was experiencing was normal. The hospital disputes her account. Lest anyone think this is an Australian issue, it happened in Canada too.
• Following up on the story of the British woman who miscarried while suffering work-related stress: The woman was ten weeks pregnant at the time of the loss -- the first article had its information mixed up. This article reports that a tribunal found in her favor, which may result in a significant judgment. The tribunal's findings were on her claims of indirect sex discrimination and unfair dismissal based upon the employer's refusal to grant her request for a modified work schedule. She dropped her charges that the employer's behavior had contributed to her miscarriage.
• As if experiencing miscarriage didn't suck enough in and of itself, the physical effects may be longer term. According to this article, a recent study (looking at old data) has shown that a miscarriage or abortion increases a woman's risk of premature delivery and low birth weight in subsequent pregnancies. The risk increases with the number of prior miscarriages or abortions. But the data being looked at is quite old, as far as medical science is concerned -- from the late 1950s and early 1960s. Given that the link is hypothesized to be a result of scar tissue and infection in the cervix and uterus, the advancement in medical science in the intervening 40+ years could minimize or eliminate this connection in the modern era. More coverage here and here. (This article and this one fail to mention the fact that the data is not current.)

CD20, 5?dpo

My chart this month looks weird to me. Looking back at my last 2 charts, I haven't had temps anywhere close to the coverline post-ovulation (until the day before AF arrived), but this month my temps have been back there a couple of times already. And my post-ovulation temps are normally quite a bit higher than my post-o temps have been this month. Have any of the rest of you experienced this? Does it mean anything, or is it just one of those things? Our bedroom temp has been the same (we have a digital thermostat), and I've been wearing more clothes the past few days than before, so, if anything, I would have expected the opposite pattern from what I'm seeing. Monday and Tuesday were mornings in other people's houses over the holidays, but I didn't notice the bedrooms being especially warm or cool. I would have thought based on CM that I o'd on Saturday (CD14), which is what Fertility Friend says if I tell it to discard Tuesday's low temp, but that feels like cheating.

I am also wondering if it is perhaps time to replace my thermometer. This is where I fess up to having used a regular digital thermometer rather than a BBT since I started charting. Since my charts had looked pretty much as expected, I didn't give a lot of thought to it. Now that they seem odd to me, I'm wondering if I should go get a BBT. Also, today, my temp was more than half a degree higher after I got out of bed and walked ten feet to the bathroom (I don't normally check twice; I was trying to test the thermometer), which seems like a big shift without much movement. Anyone have any thoughts on this?

Finally, in case I decide to make the purchase, can anyone recommend a good BBT (and tell me where to buy it, if you know -- our local pharmacy doesn't carry them)? The features I'm looking for are: (1) backlit, at least when turned on, as it is dark still when I temp; (2) doesn't beep constantly -- ideally, beeps once to let me know it's on and beeps a second time when done (my current one beeps every few seconds to let me know it's working, which drives me (and P) nuts); (3) saves the most recent temp, in case I fall back asleep before checking the reading and need to use the recall function to learn what it was. My current regular thermometer does 1 and 3, but not 2. It is sensitive to a tenth of a degree, and it seems that people's BBTs are sensitive to the hundredth, though I'm not sure I really care about that. Much thanks in advance for any advice.

Wagers

P and I have finished our crazy Christmas tour -- 8 homes in 8 cities in 3 states in 4 days. As usual, Christmas ended with a visit to my drunk of a mother.

(As an aside, my mom is gay. This isn't news to me, nor does it have any bearing on the challenging relationship I have with her (most/all of which derives directly or indirectly from the aforementioned drinking problem), but it's probably news to all of you and knowing that will make the relationships between people easier to understand. My step-mom is married to my mom. My step-family is my step-mom's family.)

Ever since P and I got together, we have celebrated Christmas jointly. Before P, my brother and I would go to my dad's on the 23rd for "family Christmas" -- my mom left us on Christmas Eve, and for the next few years this was our way of reclaiming the holiday, or, more accurately, wallowing in self-pity and watching old slides and videos to remind us how much happier we used to be. On the 24th, we'd all go visit my dad's father and sister, staying there through the 25th. My mom didn't get us until the 26th, which was punishment for breaking up the family on Christmas. (Believe it or not, I used to be far more bitter about this.)

When P came on the scene, we had to add time for his family, so he and I would leave my father's family on the morning of the 25th, driving three hours home, then spend an hour or two celebrating Christmas just the two of us, finally heading to his family's for Christmas dinner. At this point, my brother decided to end the decade-log embargo and started leaving when we did and going to my mother's for Christmas day. This got him favorite child status, which he pretty much enjoyed anyway. This also began the tradition of the Christmas of two moms. Every year, he would be there on Christmas day, and every year he was punished for it.

Every year, our mom (and sometimes our step-mom too) would get rip-roaring drunk, and frequently she would make a scene to end all scenes (she does this somewhat often -- the time P and I had to carry her out of a restaurant half-conscious, we actually got a card apologizing). When the next day rolled around, she was so hung-over ashamed, she would be on her best behavior. So each year, my brother got "bad mom" and we got "good mom." Somehow, it took us years to figure out this pattern.

This year, my brother and his wife decided that for their first Christmas, they wanted to be alone on Christmas day. (Truth be told, his marriage was a good excuse to do what he has wanted to do for 20 years -- neither of us had woken up on Christmas morning in our own bed since 1987, and I still haven't.) So he and my SIL joined us for the 26th. The big question was whether we would get bad mom or good mom, or if we would somehow get both. We placed bets among the four of us, but no one was sure whether accurately guessing bad mom could really be called winning. Happily, we got good mom. She ruined one surprise my stepmom explicitly asked her halfway through the ruining of not to ruin , and she complained loudly and rudely that she had no grandchildren and didn't know when she would get any (and, bless her heart, my stepmom told her to shut up and mind her business -- I have never loved her so much), but she was generally non-awful, and she didn't make any scenes. The worst moment was when my stepmom accidentally knocked a full glass of red wine onto the floor and onto a variety of , shattering glass and wine across the floor, and my mother for some reason cried out in pain, despite having no reason to have experienced any. It felt like a normal person's Christmas.

So I hereby promise that if and when I find myself blessed with children of my own, I will never do anything that will make it seem appropriate and worthwhile to place wagers on whether I will scream, cry, or pass out at Christmas dinner.

Merry Christmas

We're getting ready to hit the road for our annual Christmas ritual -- four days in the car.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Back in the Day

For the past fifteen months or so (since before my grandfather's 90th birthday), my father and P have been working together on creating the slideshow to end all slideshows. My dad has been scanning all the photos and slides, while P has been formatting the photos into a slideshow, setting it to music appropriate music to reflect the various eras represented, and creating a DVD from it. It has ~1000 photos and is 2 hours long, spanning more than 80 years. It's quite impressive. Here are a few selections from my life, seeking to avoid posting photos of others who may not wish for their likeness to be depicted on a largely anonymous blog.

Me and my mom, August 1977, when our relationship was thoroughly uncomplicated

Me, halfway through blowing out the candles on my second birthday, June 1979

Best Halloween costume ever, October 1980

Miscarriage news round-up: Early December

Still playing catch-up:

• Apparently it isn't just those of us who have experienced it who fear we are to blame. According to this article, a recent study has shown that some women believe that women who miscarry or have bad pregnancy outcomes are to blame for what happened. Like the doctors conducting the research, I feared that women who had experienced poor pregnancy outcomes would be more likely to blame themselves, but the research didn't bear that out. (Apparently, doctors are doing a decent job of providing fact-based explanations (or explaining that there may be no explanation) for adverse pregnancy outcomes to those who experience them.) Instead, the less educated a woman was, the more likely she was to blame the mother and believe in myths, like that being exposed to something frightening could cause a poor outcome. Interesting stuff.
• Historically, women with epilepsy being treated with AEDs were thought to be at greater risk of miscarrying. According to this article, recent research has shown that women on newer AEDs have a lower risk of miscarriage than those on older AEDs. If you are being treated for epilepsy and plan to become pregnant, discuss your medication with your doctor, as there may be ways to reduced your risk. (Though, obviously, also be sure to discuss the risks inherent in changing medication if your epilepsy is currently being effectively controlled by the medication you are on.)
• This woman's story of an undiagnosed molar pregnancy was harrowing. She had miscarried at ten weeks, had what sounded like the British equivalent of a D&E, then, two months later, found herself expelling a significant amount of additional tissue. The D&E hadn't gotten all the molar cells, so they continued to grow.
• More news regarding the Wisconsin man accused of causing his mistress's miscarriage: The preliminary hearing has been postponed, as he is out on bail. Furthermore, he happarently as a history of abusing the victim -- to the point that she took out a restraining order.
• I had hoped that story was an aberration, but apparently it's not, as a man in Virginia was sentenced to five years in jail after confessing to having caused his girlfriend's miscarriage in a similar fashion. Similarly, a man in the UK has also been charged in a similar offense and recently changed his not guilty plea. And this Canadian man kicked a woman causing her to miscarry twins, though much of the story beyond that point is unclear. What the f*ck is wrong with people?

Austria, Czech Republic, Hungary: 57, 61

CD8

For a while now, I have been feeling like P and I aren't in the same place in terms of dealing with the miscarriage and, more generally, starting a family. When I have attempted to express the sadness I feel, or even merely give a glimpse into it, he has seemed frustrated -- when one time he responded with "Stop it," I stopped talking to him about it at all. When I instead have expressed excitement or anticipation with respect to trying or, more often, actually having kids, he has ignored me completely, not even acknowledging that I have spoken at all. We normally communicate with one another well, but the last couple of months have been difficult. And it has left me feeling like I am alone in this, not just bearing our sorrow alone but like somehow I am the one who wants kids and he is just along for the ride, humoring me to avoid confrontation. I know intellectually this isn't the case -- he was so excited when we first started trying and when I was pregnant, and I know how excited he is to have kids -- but it's hard not to feel that way given the way he's been acting.

Yesterday, while Christmas shopping, I allowed myself to slow down in the children's section at Macy's, looking at tiny outfits that for the first time in a while didn't make me want to erupt in tears. I picked up an especially cute one and asked whether we could dress our kid in it one day. As usual, he ignored me. For once, I called him on it. Evidently, being excited seems too much like July to him, and leaves him feeling way too vulnerable. The thought of putting himself out there and getting hurt again is excruciating. So he has remained guarded, figuring if he doesn't care it won't hurt as much if we don't get pregnant, or if we do and miscarry again.

Somehow it didn't occur to me that we were actually in the exact same place -- because I definitely feel the same way, and it has made it hard for me to get excited again too. I think not talking about it has made it worse for both of us. And I think it's made it really hard for me to get beyond the sadness, because it's the only thing I've been allowing myself to feel. Not being vulnerable to avoid getting hurt has just left me living with and dwelling in the hurt I already feel, and that really sucks. I suspect it sucks for him too. So we decided to commit to moving past the pain, to embracing the excitement and concomitant vulnerability. And I actually feel a bit better.

Admittedly, we started this process last month in Vienna when we bought our pig clock to put in the room-that-shall-not-be-named-that-is now-a-storage-room, but I think we both felt burned again when that cycle was a bust and went back to the way we had been, which, at least for me, was a major setback. I'm hoping we'll be able to keep it going for a bit longer this time. At least now it seems like we can talk about it.

CD6 again

Today, I went back and looked at my posts from CD6, CD8, CD10 last month and realized how little has changed. Thirty more days have passed, but I still feel sad a lot, and I still feel defeated, and I still don't feel like the person I was before. I wish it was July again. Or I wish I was the person I was before September again. Or I just wish I wasn't the person I am now, feeling the way I am now. I had forgotten what it was like to be this sad. I had forgotten I could be this sad.

I have always been more of a thinker than a feeler, more comfortable analyzing than emoting or even just being.* Sadness and anger (and loneliness, I suppose, though that may be a subset of sadness) have always been the emotions I have felt (or at least remembered) most strongly. And I have always known this about myself. But I think back to August, and I know that I can feel joy. I hope joy comes back. Please come back.

* Please keep this in mind when reading my last two posts, ye who might be concerned that my desire for kids is somehow less than or detached, as I might be were I to read my posts without knowing a fuller version of me -- it's really not that at all. Also keep in mind that my relationship with my own mother is complicated and often disastrous, which makes the word motherhood itself very, very frightening to me.