If life gives you lemons...?

You make lemonade! Went to the hospital today and was utterly delighted by the fact that my doctor, the amazing Mr L had good news for me... The reason for my latest miscarriage was no more than the old genetic lottery that my chromosomes like to play. Bearing in mind all of the reasons that pregnancies end and having been tested with no bad results, I am truly delighted to hear that we are only dealing with the wonky chromosomes and nothing else.

Obviously there has to be a bit of a bummer that comes with this- my chance of miscarrying is higher than we  were told by Guys. It's around the 40-45% mark which is a little bit on the high side but when you think that four in four of my pregnancies have ended in miscarriage, it gives it more reason.

I do, perhaps, have the best consultant ever. He spent around twenty-thirty minutes talking about what our next steps were going to be, how I was doing both physically and mentally and the major "what if" (what if we didn't manage to conceive naturally). He ended the session by giving me a direct number to contact him on as soon as I fall pregnant again so that he can monitor me from the word go. I know my dad has done nothing but ask him to look after me well but he really has. I feel like I'm getting private healthcare attention from the NHS.

It still doesn't make the baby crack lessen and we have an uphill struggle ahead of us but at least we finally have a clear reason. Not only do we have that reason, but it is in fact the same reason we thought we were dealing with in the first place. A known quantity and nothing new.

When will we win the lottery?

I have my doctor's appointment tomorrow. The one where I find out what caused the fourth miscarriage and because the hospital kept us waiting with as to whether the test results were back (my file was too big for an instant answer- note to self must have less miscarriages so that it is easier in the future...), I am going alone. I am so scared. If it is anything other than the genetic issue, it will be pretty terrifying as after all, everything else came back clear like the bloods and shape and size of stuff. Really scared if it comes back with anything other than what we already know we're dealing with.

Understandably low, I am teetering on the edge of tears a lot at the moment. Just feels like there's a lot of shit happening at the moment- you know the adage of, "It never rains but pours"? That. Entirely that. Flats that leak, dead mice washing into your kitchen and psychopathic neighbours have lead us to looking to buy our first home together. It should be an exciting step but there's that fear that the old credit rating won't be good enough for them to give us a mortgage and then it's me letting everyone down again. Obviously, credit rating is more controllable than fertility but urgh: YET ANOTHER THING!

We have found a property that is pretty local to where we are currently living- three decent size bedrooms, good sized bathroom, front room, kitchen, downstairs loo, walk in larder, front and back garden and roof space. It's ex-LA on a quiet road that overlooks a private football field with little greens breaking up the road. The downside is that it is a concrete build so a non-standard building material and therefore there are less people who will lend on it. The windows and doors need replacing but I daren't look at how much it would cost as it almost feels a little like looking at baby stuff when you're newly pregnant. A few weeks later, you lose the pregnancy and feel a total idiot for dreaming.

I remember whilst working at M&S before teaching, I was chatting to one of the managers about the fact that I never thought I would ever meet someone. After all, I had a best friend who was like the other half of my brain and a wonderful relationship with my mum- so many people had less than that so did I really deserve anymore? Seven years later, sitting in my front room with my husband, that didn't really work out the way I expected but in the way of the house and the baby, they feel like too bigger a dream. If I dare start to believe they might come to fruition, then I'll curse it from dreaming too hard. Whilst teaching our RE unit about weddings today, I teared up looking at the photos- it was the most perfect wedding, perhaps that was our lucky bit?

Don't get me wrong, I know I will be a mum. There's no doubt about that. We made a decision at the weekend that we wouldn't go for the IVF route- egg donation or PGD. I'm so glad that P is on the same page as me- was utterly terrified by the thought of such an invasive treatment with no guaranteed result. I'm not saying never ever, but just not right now. Whilst I would never judge anyone on their choice to have a baby through IVF (I get how much you want your own baby, really!) for me personally, I feel it would be selfish for me to do that whilst seeing kids on a daily basis who could do with a bit more love. It might still happen naturally of course but if we do get to the point of not wanting to try anymore (which feels sooner rather than later), we do have options.

I read on Facebook the other day some meme thing:
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

―Elisabeth Kubler-Rose

I might have made a comment about preferring to be ugly than go through this shit... :)

Is knowledge always a good thing?

As we strode towards the Easter holidays, I decided to take a bit of a break from the blogging. Y'know, sometimes it's a good idea to actually talk to people rather than tell them what's happening through writing- it's a bit of a one sided conversation! So the Easter holidays came and I became so damn sick! Like proper hallucinating feverish sick and although I'm not exactly quiet in anything I do, I'm surprised we haven't had passive aggressive notes from the neighbours below complaining about me disturbing the peace!

Whilst the illness was raging, I was surprised at how the tears dried up- this sadly was a bit of a short term thing, obviously the tears weren't able to flow when all the liquid in my body was on my lungs! 

It's funny because obviously you can torture yourself pretty well over things for quite a while without needing to change the topic but just recently, the dark thoughts have started to stretch out to other things. With the recent deaths of Margaret Thatcher and Robert Edwards (IVF pioneer), it's hit me that they were all born in the same year-1925. That's the same year as my nanny, who will turn 88 in August. She seems to have suddenly become a lot older.This was also coupled with my mum saying that she doubted her elderly Bassett will make it to their holiday in Devon- I seem to be dwelling on morbidity a hell of a lot more than usual. I tend to have a pretty flippant attitude to death- the complete opposite to my best mate who has a true hatred of death (partially the reason she became a doctor?!) so this is a new development. This has extended to an almost flippant attitude to my own health. Even with the stinking chest infection, I still wanted to smoke. Just have no reason to look after myself- WHICH IS UTTERLY STUPID! Of course I do! We'll be trying again soon and my body needs to be healthy enough to hopefully not mess it up this time.

For the first time since number 3 and number 4 happened, I held a baby on Tuesday. It was a really good friend of mine's second child- I had been one of the first to cuddle number one, in fact, perhaps the first other than family! I was a bit of a state in the kitchen the night before, crying over P's fajitas- thinking about how I was going to deal with it. Thing is, when it comes to real babies- that seems so far off, I can't even imagine actually having a baby. When I spoke to another friend later the same day, she said her sister was exactly the same (she's two weeks off giving birth to twins) after having so many issues herself. When I first saw the baby and her big sister, there were absolutely no pangs of jealousy whatsoever- having children seems like a very abstract notion. It was so lovely to see a good friend and her family again. It hurt going back over all the crappiness of the past few months but she made a point which my step mother had made before. My brother and I have always been fully aware of what our future fertility would hold from both our parents and the medics involved.

Does it help though, knowing so much? Knowing the statistics? If you are told that you have a 30% chance of having a miscarriage, that makes the chance of having a baby 70% which doesn't seem too bad. However, if your pregnancies keep falling into that 30% statistic, is that 70% just an optimistic carrot on the end of a stick? I am really worried about trying again. The whole thing is incredibly stressful. Do I do the peeing on ovulation sticks? Do I leave it to happen completely naturally, like we did over the honeymoon? I guess tapping into the fatalistic attitude I have at the moment, it doesn't really matter what we do as there seems to be no issue with getting pregnant, just an issue with it getting past the first trimester and there is nothing I can do to stop anything from going wrong there. It'd be great if I could actually get my hands in there and sort out the DNA myself, but short of something worthy of a horror film, it's not down to me. 

The doctor's appointment is looming too. With the foetal test results from the D&C. Man, will I be totally freaked if it says it's anything other than genetic! I did everything right with the last one- everything, right down to taking the baby aspirin and folic acid on a daily basis, no smoking, no bad foods etc. After all the tests they've run and that have come back totally clear, for it to be anything other than genetic would be a big kicker.

So whilst unlike another blogger  Retro Chick, who I love to read, write about her grumpiness- mine isn't grumpiness but it is negativity. I've never been a negative person and I cannot allow the bad times to turn me into one. The flippant attitude needs to change. I need to stop smoking for me rather than because I have something growing inside of me and I need to stop having a fatalistic attitude. Things are not inevitable, just a bit rubbish sometimes.

Are there really blue skies?

Having a later start to school today as it's my PPA morning and the rat men were meant to come today. They came but they didn't buzz our flat before leaving! Ridiculous! Had a strongly worded conversation with the man at the end of the phone who was astonished as I that they had come but left before doing anything! Grrr! At least I managed to do a wash meaning that I don't have to go into work naked this morning.

Having seen my mother-in-law's status this morning that there was a weak bit of sunlight, I ran to the window in awe. Yes, sure enough, amidst the grey cloud, there were snippets of blue sky. Even with the biting cold, the blue sky offers a ray of hope that we might be moving towards summer. Everything is much lighter but with the recent weather, that has felt like more of a lie.

There were a lot of tears yesterday, including almost tearing up in the classroom, which would have been a true disaster since my poor TA was off with two poorly daughters. Everything went well with my colleague's scan- I think there was a bit of fear in me that it could happen to her too- to reach the scan and find that things were too small or that there was no heartbeat. Her daughter has ASD and I was really worried how that could affect her-she's been on an even balance recently and I didn't want her to slide backwards at a time when her mum would need to rest. Despite my fears, everything was okay and her response was that if it was another girl (she already has a sister) that she wouldn't be looking after it! She clutched the photo for the rest of the afternoon, only allowing me to put it in her bag when there was a child ruthlessly cutting through pieces of paper next to her. I am a horrendous anti-fantasist- worrying and imagining the worst case scenarios and planning what I would do if they happened. Paul always looks aghast when I talk about when I walk by myself in the dark and do a running commentary for Crimewatch..."Sarah was last seen walking past this block of flats at 9pm..." It seems to be an alternate weight to the Pollyanna perspective that I project. I'm glad that my pupil had good news though.

I gave my colleague a hug and wished her congratulations when I handed her daughter over at the end of the day- I didn't cry then. I meant it with my whole heart- it does work out for other people and one day, I hope it will work for Paul and myself. In fact the interesting part was that I didn't cry from that point onward- had a parent on my tail who wanted to talk about some time off for a family wedding so I couldn't become teary then. After that, I ended up helping two teachers with their data (rather than heading home and tidying up the house hehehe!) and even ended up in conversation with one of them about their period pain (it's funny how we all talk about it- some of my closest friendships have started over a period conversation!) I noticed some small spots of blood yesterday and took it that my period had started- it would have been around the right time too- so I laughed with her about how I hadn't had a period since October and how odd it is to be back to having them again. She hadn't known about the four miscarriage and was utterly gobsmacked when I told her, also seeming a little surprised at how upbeat I was (check my brave face out- I will win an Oscar for it one day!) It doesn't seem to have developed into a period but I don't think that I possibly have enough blood or lining to have a proper one, having bleed for two and a half weeks after the D&C- I may actually die with anymore blood loss!

There were a few tears shed this morning after Paul left for work. Back in December, I was given paperwork for the Saying Goodbye services by my GP. They are an organisation set up by a husband and wife team who lost five babies themselves where they run special services for people who have lost babies at any stage, whether miscarriage, stillbirth or later. These are held in churches and cathedrals across the country and are coming to America soon. It seems a lovely idea but I'm not sure that it would give me anymore closure. I see life and death quite scientifically- to me, we make our own heavens during our time on Earth by living our lives as best we can, helping other people wherever we can. When we die, that's pretty much it: there is the physical reincarnation through ashes being spread, plants growing and being eaten etc, then the genetic through having offspring and the mental through being remembered by friends and relatives but unlike when I was a child, I don't believe that people walk up sunbeams to reach heaven. It wouldn't be helpful for me to go and light four candles for the babies that I've lost because they still exist in not only my heart but Paul's and those of my family's too. Anyway, back to what I cried at- the Saying Goodbye team have created a video which had me crying huge globule type tears:

Although, the services are not something to help me- the job that Saying Goodbye are doing is amazing and they are helping so many people get through this properly rotten time.

Through the Saying Goodbye Facebook page, I found their sister charity Growing You which does seem like something I may need in the future. Having bordered on needing to be sectioned during the last pregnancy (if only for the sake of my iPhone battery), I know that the next time I fall pregnant, I will need a lot of support not to turn into a crazy woman. I hope I have learnt some perspective from miscarriage number four but who knows what will happen when I actually get the HCG running through my veins again. I truly did feel a certain sense of relief when the pregnancy ended as I didn't have to worry about seeing blood when I went to the toilet anymore or have to check food like a hawk, making sure that I could eat it. It doesn't really seem to matter how many good intentions you have, a pregnancy will either make it to the end or not whether you dip your chips in mayo or don't. When it comes down to the genes, it comes down to something so completely out of your control and being such a control freak, the two don't really mix. When we get around to trying to make another baby, I will need a lot of cuddles and talking through it.

Anyway, I'd better put something on other than my pjs and head off under these almost blue skies to work. The heating has gone off too and I'll only be in trouble if I leave it on all day again!

How do I react?

Yesterday was my first without crying. Possibly my first day since miscarriage number 3, which was just before Christmas. It was my mother-in-law's birthday and after a pretty painless day at school (even after taking year 6 grammar booster) I legged it into town to have dinner with my in-laws. Despite killer tiredness, I managed the whole day without a single tear!

Alain de Botton wrote this on twitter the other day:
" Hard to say to a friend: I need cheering up because of the sadness your success has caused me."
This couldn't be more true.

Not quite as brave this morning. Had a little weep in the shower as my colleague goes for her dating scan today. Her daughter is in my class and last night she came to remind me that she was going to take her to the scan in the morning. I feel so guilty for not being overjoyed for her. It's so hard when her pregnancy would have been so close in dates to my own.

Having really odd coughing/retching fits at the moment- very similar to my morning sickness retches. Along with that, I have also got really irritated nipples(sorry probably too much information!)- it's almost as if my body is taunting me at the moment with what it should have been doing if it had decided to work properly.

After the weekend's chat with Paul, I do feel much more relaxed- I suppose I've got a bit of a reprieve for a while before my body has to do anything. I have to try to be as normal as I possibly can- not buying a million sticks unlike last time! It's not as if they can tell you anything about how the pregnancy is progressing- they just tell you that you have enough hormone in your body to be pregnant. I was peeing on sticks like a mad woman last time- twice to three times a week checking that I was still pregnant- I even did one the morning before the scan when obviously things had gone completely tits up. I dread to think how much I spent on tests. There's this widget that you can use that shows you how much money you have spent on trying to get pregnant but to me right now, that just seems like a whole other statistic that I don't need to be worrying about.

So I have a couple of months before the madness starts again. When my period restarts, I don't know quite how I'll react- it wasn't exactly a normal reaction that I had when we first had sex after the miscarriage- no husband really wants his wife in floods of tears straight after making love! It's hard not making links between the two things and what has happened. It can't be allowed to continue like that and it hasn't in regards to having sex- completely back to normal there now but I think it's understandable given three miscarriages within a year- something has got to give!

Hopefully, August will just be a time of preparation for my best mate's wedding in September- I can use all her DIY projects as a way of distracting me from the fact my November pregnancy would have been due then. Also the September one will hopefully be diluted by our first wedding anniversary. It would have been awesome to have had a baby to mark the date but this way, Paul and I get to celebrate what was the most amazing day ever without having to worry about going into labour!

Who knows, I might not be able to drink by then!

Where does the weekend go?

After a bit of a grotty end to the week, yesterday was such a lovely day. Despite the winter fail of March, after I had finished tutoring, I headed back home via Sainsburys (and the world's angriest man on the 122- was actually shoved out of the way so that he could scream at the bus driver!) where Paul met me and we walked home together. After my mock complaining all the way, we settled down with lunch and stuck on Breakfast at Tiffanys. Once the film had finished, it was time for buttery crumpets and a big cuddle on the sofa. I think there is a very definite link between the crappy days vs good days in relation to the amount of physical contact- the more cuddles, the better I feel!

We then had "the Talk". That "Talk". It's been bubbling away inside my head for a long time- felt a little like being a teenager and about to reluctantly own up to something to my parents, rather than a discussion that Paul and I needed to have! I was worried that it was just going to be a lot of sobbing and that Paul would do his normal thing of, "I just wants what's best for you" but this wasn't just about me, it was about us as a family. Quite a lot of people have asked me how many more times I can let myself go through this and even how many more times our relationship can manage to cope.

The optimist in me, my inner Pollyanna, speaks in quite a clear voice saying that if my mum and step mum managed to have babies naturally, I should be able too. It's just that waiting for the right numbers to come up- the genetic lottery. So my next pregnancy could result in a baby, who knows!

We both said that we'd wait a couple of months- let my body have a couple of normal cycles and certainly, the first thing we need to wait for is the meeting with Mr Lee and hear the results of the tests. Everything else, as I've said before seems completely normal- the blood tests/ internal scans all came back fine. I think as a matter of self protection, I've already told myself that the genes are the reason for number 4 too. It's just a bit too scary to think of any other reasons for things going wrong- ONE THING AT A TIME!

Either way, dependent on Mr Lee's findings, we will have another go naturally in a couple of months. If that then goes wrong, we both thought that depending on how we are feeling, we would either choose PGD/egg donation or adoption. All the way through, I think the ultimate thing we've got to keep in mind is how we're feeling at the time. We have got time; I turn 31 in November so time is something that is on our side. It's weird- I really like having a clear set path normally, with exact plans in place but this is one thing that I cannot completely control. I actually feel quite calm even though nothing has really changed and it's all because I've got Paul to go through it with.

It was good to have the "talk", finally. I know it was eating away at me- not knowing when was the right time to bring it up but even thought this stuff is tough to talk about, it's really important that we keep talking, cuddling and watching old films on the sofa. I cannot wait until next weekend's extra days as it's not only our six month-aversary with a promise of Argentinian steak but also an excuse for extra cuddles and more old films.
Six months since this:

Photos by the epic genius of Andrea Ellison and Boo Marshall

Are you okay?

...and the answer is... Yes, I am okay. There have been a flurry of concerned emails, texts and messages asking just how okay I am. I realise that some of the things that I write are quite brutal and honest but please remember that this is just writing down what is in my head and this is the fourth time of thinking and feeling these things. There are days that are utter shit and others that are fine where I feel myself again.

I am hugely grateful for all the support and love that has been shown to us. As I have mentioned before, pragmatism is one of the things that I am trying to use to keep perspective on everything. A wonderful husband, great friends, a loving family, a job that I adore, a pretty flat in a great area and two daft mogs. I have an awful lot that so many others don't and must remember that but also not beat myself with it either.

Part of the doldrums is not knowing what should come next. A break definitely as I need to heal physically and mentally before trying again. There are almost too many options (spoilt brat!) but with no guarantee of a baby at the end of the different treatments available, it's very hard to know where to start. I am very scared of IVF treatments. Very scared. It's so invasive and really messes around with your body- I haven't really coped well with the loss of the pregnancies so am I really strong enough to be able to go through that?

It's not just babywise that I don't know the next steps. I'm not really very sure what's going on with teaching- Michael Gove has waged war on our professionalism as teachers, there will be a lot of changes and a lot of strike action (with money already being put away to cover strike days- seriously!). Our school is also going through a lot of change with a high staff turnover this year, a new school building and mixed results from the children. I'm in my sixth year of teaching (most people quit by their third year) and with all the baby stuff going on, I am not in any place to start taking on senior management roles. I do already have responsibilities for MFL and I shall be rolling out a whole school award that focuses on the rights of the child (not only teaching them that they have rights but that they cannot take them away from others). When discussing the changes with my step mum and pondering a move, she made a really good point that sometimes it's better to be part of the team that gets the boat afloat rather than jumping ship. I love my school so much. We have the best children on this planet- beautiful kids who make everyday special, even the really crappy ones.

Had sex ed today with my Year 5 boys- there was all sorts of hilarity with tampons and high fives with sanitary towels on their hands. It's amazing how understanding they can be- one of them asked if when a women bled, it hurt them and when I explained that the bleeding didn't hurt but the cramping does, all of them looked very concerned and made all the right noises. Where we are discussing a lot about why we go through puberty, they have asked a lot of questions. One of the boys, as I was taking them downstairs to dismiss them, asked if I wanted to have a baby and I responded honestly: that I want a baby very much. He then said that when he first met me, he thought I already had a baby as I was so much like a mum! A very sweet thing to say (I'm hoping that he didn't mean my big belly!)

One thing's for sure that I must make sure that I do, even with all this change and confusion, I must make sure that I don't just use this as my only means of communicating my feelings. I must keep talking to Paul. We all know the consequences of a lack of communication in marriage but with babycrack involved, I think it destroys even more relationships. A baby would be the most amazing gift on this planet but I have already been blessed with an amazing marriage. I must not let it slide.