Thank you everyone who has left such kind messages for me. It is really comforting to know that there is a group of people pulling for our family. This is the kind of thing you can't share with many people....
I think a lot has happened, and yet nothing has happened. I went home after meeting with our new OB, I was unable to keep anything down. I had a hard time keeping anything down the next day as well. This bout of worry and sadness has seemed to kick up the "all day sickness" that seemingly started to subside.
We have an appointment to speak with a specialist in maternal fetal medicine dealing with multiples on Jan 21st. First, we have an ultrasound, then we meet the doctor. I'll be a day shy of 12 weeks by then. Sigh.
In addition, we have set up a meeting with the REs at the baby-making factory to discuss why we were given the option to transfer two embryos when the surgeon (and fellow RE) in the practice would be so opposed to me carrying twins. And also why the doctor doing the transfer said the "only thing in my chart was that I should deliver at 36 weeks".
What is probably the scariest part about this whole thing, is that IF my uterus was to really rip in half when carrying twins, I would have been blindly unaware of this impending danger. Since my husband was the only one who remembered the surgeon saying I shouldn't carry twins AND since we insisted on calling the clinic multiple times after we found out we had twins AND waiting for weeks for an answer....that is the only reason (our dogged determination), I repeat the ONLY reason, I was given such information.
Not before the transfer. Not after the 1st ultrasound. Not after the second ultrasound. Not even at our "graduation day" from the RE. Only on the phone from the nurse after "a long meeting" with the surgeon more than 2 weeks after we inquired.
If I feel up to it, I'll post the email my husband sent to the RE practice in the next few days. It is very well written, very clear, very respectful, but pointed.
I'm not sure what we are going to "get" out of this meeting on Wednesday. Hubby wants an apology, but more than that, I think he wants more is to speak with the surgeon about his recommendation. He also wants to make sure that this information is directed to the specialist. My hubby is hopeful that the actual written recommendation by the surgeon is not as dire as I made it sound. As for myself, I am not expecting much out of the conversation. I feel pretty beaten down right now, both physically and emotionally.
7 comments:
Oh honey, I wish I could be there and give you a nice cup of hot chocolate and a big hug. I still do not understand why you people were kept in the dark and the info was not sounded loud and clear earlier enough.
Sometimes, docs transfer more than the required number of embies to increase the chance of atleast one implantation. Maybe that was the reason? I don't know. If this thing will make you lose one of your babies, I am gonna cry with you. I can understand how very heart-wrenching this is.
I can only pray for you guys right now. I will do that for you and your hubby and your doctors.
You're in my thoughts. So sorry you're having to go through this, but pleased at how well it sounds like your hubby is stepping up and taking charge. You're all in my thoughts. hang in there.
I wish I had some sort of great thing to say, but mostly you and your family are in my thoughts.
Such difficult stuff. Thinking of you
Just got back from a whirlwind of relitive-visiting; I was so worried about you the whole time! I hope you get some answers at your meeting, glad you have DH with you to be your rock.
I just keep coming back to your situation in my mind, and imagining how heartbroken and conflicted you must be. I wish I had some wonderful words of comfort. This poem, originally posted by BrooklynGirl is so beautiful.
By Stanly Kunitz
I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers,
not on the litter."
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
Thinking of you, take care. Post when you can.
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