Cha-Cha

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“Optimist: Someone who figures that taking a step backward after taking a step forward is not a disaster, it's a cha-cha.”

― Robert Brault

I am trying to be an optimist. I am trying to take my two steps forward, one step backward and make it into a cha-cha... but man it isn't easy. 

I know the importance of goodness and positivity. I just feel like every time I take a step forward lately I take two backwards. No stomach attack for six weeks? Let’s have three in four days and put her in the Emergency Room twice. Fertility cycle successfully tracked and used? Let’s have her period arrive two days earlier than anticipated and with a vengeance. Cast in a dream role in a Shakespeare play? Let’s have her work her ass off to have it cancelled at the last minute. Add in some stresses I choose not to blog about, stupid doctors who give me a snap diagnosis and tell me I should be on antidepressants to see if they help anything (when I am not depressed regardless of all this going on) just makes me want to hit something. I am not clinically depressed. I can laugh, I can feel happiness and joy and I am not in a fog of sadness and hurt hours a day. I am not sad. I am not depressed.

I am frustrated. There is a huge difference. 

Sometimes my frustration brings me to tears because that is my body’s uncontrolled physical response. But more often than not, I am just me. I don't dwell on these things all the time. I am how I always have been. I don't know how else to put it. I have been in that horrible fog before, my teenage years especially... I know the difference and how important mental health is to people. But I will not just take medication because one doctor who has spent five minutes with me and sees my medical issues happening and thinks I should, even if just as "preventative maintenance" because it is "only a matter of time at this rate."

Seriously?

So, as you can tell from my ranting things have not been easy around these parts lately. I cannot believe I naively expected to get pregnant as soon as I stopped taking my birth control over a year ago. I cannot believe I thought having my gall bladder removed would fix my stomach issues and make me normal again. I cannot believe certain things happen. I cannot believe I am officially the "someone else" certain things happen to, but never to you person. I mentioned in my 2014 Retrospect post how hard of a year it was and 2015 can only be better.... well I was wrong. Different sorts of awful can happen and be just as hard if not harder. Sometimes that makes me wish I was a kid again, this adult stuff is for the birds. Maybe next year will be better. Maybe October, November and December will be better...

All I can say is, I am working on my cha-cha as much as a rhythmically challenged girl can. 

Loss

I wasn't sure if I wanted to write this blog. Ryan and I talked about it for awhile and he finally looked at me and said, "Do you think it would help anyone else? Because that is what I think your blog does. It helps people." I thought about that for a bit and I remembered some of the "harder" things I had blogged about. I blogged about two surgeries, when my marriage needed some extra help, the Birthday Ball, PCSing, bullying, deployments, wedding planning, engagement.... and whether someone said it to me directly or in a comment or an email I know they helped others. So maybe this will help someone too. I know I felt pretty alone for some of this and finding some other blogs did help me. I've had my blog for nearly six years now and this is part of our lives... the good and the bad. 

Ok.

I wanted to blog about our fifth wedding anniversary on May 1st. I wanted to blog about Mother's Day.  But I couldn't.... not this year.

Right before our anniversary I had a feeling. I was late. We have been trying to conceive since July with out much luck. My being sick and having surgery probably didn't help matters but when this month rolled around I couldn't help but get excited as the days continued to pass without my monthly visitor arriving. On a whim I went and got a pregnancy test on my way home from work on a night when Ryan was lateman and on the range and wouldn't be home. I had gone with my friend Donna to buy Ryan his anniversary present (we do the traditional gifts if you remember, so year five is wood and he got a rocking chair from Cracker Barrel) and as soon as she left I took the test. 

Not even thirty seconds later it showed positive.

I screamed. I cried. I scared the hell out of the Dup.

Ryan had mentioned me bringing dinner to him so I texted him asking if he wanted me to bring him food. He replied yes and I was pretty thankful. I am awful at keeping secrets and I knew I was about to burst. Ryan had to be the first to know so I couldn't see or talk to anyone else before him! I wanted to do something cute and special but I was on a time crunch. I found an old bracelet box that I wrapped and put the test inside with a special message.

I had to drive almost half an hour to the range where Ryan was and my heart was racing the entire time. I sent him another text saying I really had to talk to him in private about something that happened today. He agreed. I finally got there and sneakily set up my phone on the dashboard to record his reaction. I told Ryan I had an early anniversary present for him and I couldn't keep it a secret. He was really funny saying he didn't even have mine yet and he had been on the range all day and he didn't think he could properly appreciate a present at the moment. I don't have the heart to post the video itself but you can see from the below screen shots he definitely appreciated the present. I was smiling like an idiot and we both probably cried.

We were very excited. We called our parents to tell them the news but decided beyond that we wouldn't start telling people until the right amount of time had passed. Ryan had to mention it to some of his coworkers when he got back in since he was worried and telling them about how we had to have a "talk". We also agreed some of our best friends could know too. I hung out with Ryan for awhile longer before heading back home and calling my best friend Sam to tell her the long awaited news. As I was on the phone the Dup promptly hopped up on the bed with me and snuggled in on my belly.... something she hasn't done in ages.

For a very, very short time.... things were perfect.

On our fifth anniversary I woke up feeling ok, but kind of crampy. I didn't really think anything of it and I called the Naval Hospital to talk to my PCM about what to do next. They told me just to head in to the lab that day and we'd go from there. Ryan got home after I got out of the shower and we started discussing what to do for our anniversary. My stomach was starting to cramp more and more and I started to feel a little nervous. I went to the bathroom and saw a little blood and my heart stopped.

I called my mom in a panic. Was I overreacting? Was this normal? She told me to call my doctor.

I called my PCM back, choking back tears, and asked what to do. After being passed around they gave me to a nurse who had had implantation bleeding and they wanted to make sure she was the one I spoke with. I described everything and she told me not to panic and to come in and do my test as planned. She also told me other symptoms to look for if things weren't good. Ryan had to go do a height and weight thing and take a MarineNet class and we agreed to meet up after I went to the lab. When I got to the Naval Hospital I went to the lab and they handed me a cup to give a sample. I went back into the rest room and my heart basically stopped. So much blood... it scared the hell out of me. I couldn't give a sample, all that was coming out was blood and clots and it was bright red.... the color the nurse warned me wouldn't be a good sign. I came out of the bathroom shaking and crying and the technicians walked me straight to the Emergency Room.

Not where I expected to be on my fifth wedding anniversary.

In the ER things were nuts for a bit. I finally managed to give them a sample, but it was basically red. They took blood samples and my vitals and it was a lot of waiting. I texted Ryan and he told me he was on his way and he arrived just as the doctor came in to talk to me. Based on some of the tests they knew I was pregnant, but early.... but they weren't sure if it was just a regular pregnancy, an ectopic pregnancy, or a miscarriage. An ultrasound showed my lining looked pregnant, but it was too soon to see if anything was there or had been there. They also did a vaginal ultrasound to try and rule out an ectopic pregnancy since I was in pain. Naturally in between all of these there was the endless waiting of the Emergency Room. Ryan crawled in to the bed with me and held me as I cried since I was so terrified. We nodded off for a bit too before all the tests came back... inconclusive. After hours and hours.

My doctor was wonderful. He had me at ease as much as can be but I was still a crying mess, but he was great. He scheduled me a follow up for that Wednesday. He basically said if my blood work went up (my HCG) then I was still pregnant, but if it stayed the same or dropped it would indicate a miscarriage. So with a follow up appointment and prescriptions for Tylenol, prenatal vitamins and zofran, we were finally on our way. Since we took separate cars I got in mine to drive home. I hadn't eaten all day so I stopped at Panera to get some soup at the drive thru. As soon as the bag got in the car and the smell hit my nose, my stomach turned and I felt sick. I drove home with all the windows open while secretly thinking, ok, this can be a good thing. Maybe it means I am still pregnant. And then I got home and threw up just in time for Ryan to walk in the door. Poor guy. I got into bed with some medicine and a movie and essentially napped the rest of the day. I had an ice pop for dinner and then we went to bed by 8:30.

I worked the weekend. I was off Monday. I cleaned and grocery shopped. I worked Tuesday. All along I took my prenatal vitamins. I bled for another day or so, but it got lighter in flow and darker in color. All good signs. By Wednesday I was hopeful when I went for my appointment in the lab to get blood drawn.

My arm did not agree with all the needles. It is still bruised and multi colored weeks later. Ryan had duty Wednesday but he asked me if I was ok to go alone. I was. I honestly thought deep down things were going to be ok so I didn't feel the need to have someone with me. I had prayed... our parents and my best friend were sending good vibes and thoughts and prayers. I thought I was still pregnant and around New Year's Eve (my estimated due date) we'd have a baby joining us for the New Year. My appointment with the OBGYN wasn't for two hours so I went home, showered and then headed back to the hospital for my appointment before I was supposed to go to work a closing shift.

Waiting in the waiting room my heart was racing. Women in various stages of pregnancy were all around me and I kept getting that small spark of hope. The nurse finally took me back and we went over everything waiting for the doctor to come out of surgery to see me. She eventually came in and looked at my blood results.

They were down to 5. Pregnancy is detected at 25 and up. I had dropped a lot. I had lost the baby.

A miscarriage.

Even typing the words makes me start to cry again.

The flood gates opened in the doctors office as they handed me the box of tissues. I had to do another ultrasound (of course vaginally) to double check and they said most of the lining even was gone from comparing to five days ago. Everything basically had already passed and she told me I may continue to spot for awhile but it was almost over.

I basically miscarried on our fifth anniversary. I just wasn't sure until five days later.

The doctor was very kind and I basically sobbed my heart out. Both the OBGYN and the ER doctor told me it was nothing I had done, it was probably due to a chromosome abnormality and something was not right so my body naturally passed it. There was nothing I could have done differently... it wasn't my fault. Logically I understood it all... I really did. But emotionally I didn't want to hear it and continued to cry. The doctor offered to call my husband's command to release him or to write notes for us both and I declined. I left and got myself outside and called Ryan to deliver the awful news. My husband had to hear I lost the baby on the phone and I felt awful for him as I sobbed. He told me to get to the car and stay, he was on the way. Duty be darned. I texted my mom and my mother in law and my best friend... I couldn't say it out loud again at that point. I was devastated.

I sat in the car and sobbed until Ryan arrived. He held me and told me again it wasn't my fault. It was ok. I was due to go in to work but I knew I couldn't make it through the day. Ryan got a call from his CO and was told to finish one thing and then to go home with me. I decided to drive over to the library to talk to my manager and see if I could go home. I calmed myself a bit and drove up to the library. I know I could have called but again, I didn't want to be on the phone either. And I wasn't sure we were covered staff wise either. 

I got to work and to the reference office and my boss wasn't there. Standing in the back hallway looking around like a trapped animal my good friend from work, Jo, saw me. She asked me if I was ok and I shook my head no. I told her I lost it not even realizing she had no idea what I was talking about. She figured it out pretty quickly as I once again sobbed my heart out, not realizing I still had tears left. We sat in the office as my manager came in and filled her in. My manager Tara is wonderful and she and Jo listened as I cried and tried to calm me as I waited to hear if Ryan could go home. I was told to take the day off, we were covered, and I was so thankful for the two of them so I didn't have to be alone. They both asked me why I went to that appointment alone and I told them... I honestly thought it would be the opposite outcome. I truly thought I would be still pregnant and ok. I stayed at work, crying with them, for maybe an hour before Ryan was dismissed. I drove home still in tears.

Most of that day I sat with Ryan on the couch and cried. And as unhealthy as it was, drank. I had a few beers as I sat there alternating between numb and sobbing my heart out. I don't really remember what else happened that day... if we watched tv or what we ate or anything. It all was in a haze. I talked to my mom, Ryan talked to his. I cried a lot. I didn't go to work the next day, Thursday, either. Ryan had to go back to work that second day and I stayed home and cried off and on some more. He dragged me out of the house that night for dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings just to distract me a bit, which I appreciate more now than I did at the time.

Ryan was worried for a bit when I said I was angry too... angry at myself, angry at the situation, angry at God even though I knew it was wrong. Sometimes it is just easier to want to place blame. I was angry at the one person who asked me if I had done anything strenuous to cause it, or if I was still on pain medication for something (and the answer was NO to both). I was angry at the one ER nurse who said "Oh don't worry honey, it was only a bunch of cells anyway. If you did lose it, it wasn't a baby." (Note: I am Catholic and we believe life begins at conception... that is my personal belief and I will not impose it on anyone else or make anyone else believe what I do... but wrong thing to say to me.) I was thankful Ryan saw my reaction and held me tightly, in a discreet way, so I didn't punch either of them. 

Anger, hurt, guilt, sadness, devastation, mourning, loss, pain, heartache... hitting over and over again.

My heart still hurts. Occasionally I still cry at the drop of a hat or get hit with waves of sadness. That's the hardest. The hormones make it difficult as I go through the waves of sadness or anger. Friends, family and neighbors have reached out and made me feel loved. Some days are harder than others. Mother's Day I had to work but I fought back waves of bitterness and sadness all day.

I know we can try again. I know this doesn't mean it will happen again... I can have a perfectly healthy and normal pregnancy someday as far as the doctors are concerned. But there is always that chance... what if? What if this happens again? To be honest I do not know if my heart could handle it. I have friends and family members who have had multiple miscarriages and I cannot imagine going through this again and again.

I know it won't always hurt like this. I know it will get less painful and less difficult. But our wedding anniversary will now be tied to this loss. Maybe it won't always hurt this badly, but I will think of it. New Years Eve, my due date, will have these thoughts crossing my mind again. It hurts. I still hate those thoughts that go into my head.  

I lost it. I am not pregnant anymore. I had a miscarriage. I lost my baby.

Ryan told me he tries to see the good in every situation. When situation A happened, situation B was able to... and it couldn't have had the first not occurred. But I cannot see any situation that makes losing a child ok. No good can come out of that. Even if and when we get pregnant again, it will not be a joy replacing a sorrow... it will be something separate. Yes it would be wonderful, but it is apples and oranges to me. I cannot see any possible good and I am trying so hard. I know this is where my faith comes in to play and I am trying to leave my heart open to grace at the moment. I am trying to let go of the anger and the bitterness. I am trying to heal. Even though physically I now feel ok, mentally and emotionally it is much slower going.

So, maybe this will help someone someday. Maybe you will see you are not alone, even though you feel like you may be. The hurt, the guilt, the anger, the pain and everything in between... I feel it too. If you found this because of a google search or anything, I am so sorry. I know nothing I can write here will help really, believe me, I know, but maybe it is a start. To any of my friends or family reading this and finding out the news this way, I am sorry I didn't tell you directly... it has been too hard for me to talk about out loud. I know my mom has handled telling some family for me, but I do not know for sure. I told her it was ok to mention it since I just am not up for it yet. Writing this has helped a bit (as all over of the place it is), sort of a catharsis, but I have a long way to go.

Under the Weather

My poor blog has been so neglected this year. Not sure what else to do about it or if I even want to keep it going at this point.

Maybe I am just tired and grouchy from feeling sick.

Last Wednesday (as in the 15th) I got sick at work. I was closing and it was close to the end of my shift when I got really warm and dizzy. I threw up a few times at work and throughout the night. And the next day. It really stunk because, naturally, Ryan was in the field so I was home alone and feeling extra miserable and sorry for myself. I thought it was food poisoning and would go away.

Here I am a week and a half later and I still feel nauseous.

I have missed work, show rehearsals and just leaving the house.

I have been to Urgent Care, the Emergency Room at my regular Doctor. I have had to give more urine samples than I ever have before because no one believes a woman can be nauseous and not pregnant apparently. I had an ultrasound today that looked normal. I have taken drugs to stop throwing up but still am nauseous. For almost a week now all I have been able to eat are saltines and ice pops. Toast was a big breakthrough.

My show opens next week and work is (naturally) short staffed. I am tired of not eating and feeling sick to my stomach with no answers at all. One ER doctor even so kindly said to me, "Don't worry, you can survive without food for five or six weeks as long as you stay hydrated." before escorting me out of the office. I want to eat again. I want to not feel sick to my stomach. I want answers.

I want to feel better.



And now I am done feeling sorry for myself. Sorry for the pity party all.

Sick Week

On Monday I woke up feeling a little, well, off. I didn't have to work so I slept in until 9:30 but I woke up feeling like I barely slept at all. I had things to do so I did laundry, scrubbed the bathrooms and the kitchen and then went to go drop off Ryan's uniforms for dry cleaning and alterations. Once I got in the car I could not cool off. Yes it was hot out but even with my air conditioning blasting I still felt way too hot. My head started aching and my neck felt stiff and I was just exhausted. 

By the time I got home I went to lay down and by the time Ryan got home I felt positively awful. I had no appetite and everything just seemed to be making my body hurt. I started running a fever so I took four Advil, ate dinner and then felt a little better. We went to sleep that night and I woke up at 3:30am freezing cold. I woke Ryan up solely to use his body heat and finally fell back to sleep. In the morning I took four more Advil and I was suddenly too hot again. The whole drive to work I had the air conditioning blasting while Ryan diverted the vents and wisely said nothing about it.

I worked half a day before my manager told me to leave. I knew getting an appointment with my PCM would be impossible to I went to Urgent Care. They were not that helpful, diagnosing me with gastritis regardless of the fact I had no stomach symptoms aside from lack of appetite. The doctor told me if I had a fever again Wednesday to come back.

All night I was taking Advil and alternating from chills to sweats with a pounding headache. Wednesday I woke up with a fever of 101. Urgent Care didn't open until 10am so I dragged myself in there and when the doctor heard my symptoms he told me to go across the street to the ER. I wasn't thrilled about it but he said they could do blood work and diagnose me better, so off I went.

In the waiting room I got this stylish mask to wear since I had a fever and other "flu like" symptoms. Man those things are uncomfortable! Within an hour I was in the back seeing the first doctor who reminded me a lot of Doctor House from TV, very blunt and who, according to a nurse I later spoke to, gets at least three complaints a day! He looked right at me and said, "I think you have a viral infection. We will do some blood work and then you should be good." So I get my blood drawn and then the nurse asks me if I am ready to go to my room.

My room? I thought it was blood work then going home?

The next thing I know I am in an exam room in a hospital gown in a bed freezing my behind off.

Over the next several hours I spoke to another doctor and many nurses and basically got told they were worried I had meningitis. That was when I started to get scared. I knew Ryan had been busy at work and I didn't want to bug him (yea yea yea I know) and I was very happy when he walked into my room a few hours into my stay. It definitely made me feel better to see him, especially since I had no idea he was coming. They ran a CT scan, more blood work and started talking about the possibility of a lumbar puncture. Noooo thank you!

Luckily my CT scan looked normal and they hooked me up to an IV and many antibiotics. I was told I had to be hooked up to it for three hours or so and I felt pretty much ready to jump out of my skin at this point. I wanted to go home! Anxiety was hitting me pretty hard and Ryan was doing his best to make sure I didn't cry or jump out of that bed and run.... ok, roll out and try and low crawl probably would have been more accurate at that point! Well one Valium later I was calmed down and finally able to doze a bit with Ryan providing extra body heat in my uncomfortable bed as Friends played in the background. 

After an hour or so I woke up and sent Ryan to get some food since I knew he was hungry (I was but not allowed to eat) and tried to doze a little more. People kept coming in and checking things so that didn't work out too well but I was beginning to feel better with the medicine and the fluids. My CT scan came back looking good and the doctor essentially told me he didn't think I had meningitis. Now was he 100% sure? Of course not, Doctors can never claim such a thing, so he said if I wanted the lumbar puncture they'd do it. Since I obviously did not want a giant needle in my back I declined. He told me then once my IVs were done I could go. If my fevers were not under control with medication, the headache got worse or I had confusion, blurry or double vision or a rash then I had to come back to the ER and get the lumbar puncture done. Deal.

My blood pressure was low at this point so they added more fluids while I watched Thor as Ryan returned. We watched the movie together until my IVs finished and my blood pressure went back up to normal... ish.

My husband never, ever takes pictures, so I do not know what possessed him to want to take one at this moment, but his comment while doing so made it, "You're gonna get discharged from the ER, but first, lemme take a selfie..." And although you can't see it through the mask very well, he definitely had me smiling.

Which with everything else considered, is pretty amazing.

How could you not love someone like that? I love him for showing up, unasked, taking care of me (I don't like to make a fuss but within ten minutes of him being there I had a pillow :P) and making me laugh. We went home with four prescriptions of what I like to call 'loopy drugs' and me looking forward to my own bed. And food since I thought I was hungry. Ryan got me some of my favorite Japanese food and after a few bites I was full, IVs will do that to you, and I happily passed out in my own bed.

Thankfully today I feel much better. For the first time this week I do not have a fever, which in itself is heavenly, and my headache and neck pain are getting much better. The loopy drugs are helping and I hope after today I won't really need them. I have a follow up appointment with my PCM tomorrow, which I in some miracle managed to book after only five minutes on the phone, and I am finally hopeful things are on the up. I am even looking forward to hopefully going back to work Saturday, something you never normally expect to hear ;)

If I can go the rest of my life never being in an ER again, I will be a happy camper. The nurses and doctors were great, but the waiting and waiting and worrying was exhausting!

Ok, back to my chick flick movie marathon. Thank you to everyone who reached out to me with well wishes, I really really appreciate them more than you know.