XO, Isabel

Hope and Courage: Our Surrogacy Journey

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Archives for August 2013

I’m here, perhaps not present

August 29, 20133 Comments

I’ve not been able to muster the strength to write anything. I’ve written to some privately and have spoken to others.

The truth is, I’m in pain. Emotional, no doubt, but, physical, too. It’s as if every inch of my physical self is manifesting the pain that I feel in my heart. I go through a range of emotions, from sadness to anger. Feeling alone and feeling suffocated. Wanting to move forward and pretend none of this happened. But, it did. I am working through it and it will take time. I know this. I know it all. It doesn’t make it easier to feel. There is only so much Ibuprofen can do.

It will get better, I promise me that.

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Daily, Miscarriage Tagged: grief, hope, loss, pain, sadness

What I did today

August 27, 2013Leave a Comment

A while back, after we thought we were in the clear for miscarriage risks, we started looking around and doing our research on baby products. Amazon is a favorite, and so we started working on a private Baby Registry. We never got very far. But today, I deleted it.

Screenshot_8_27_13_11_29_AM

I noticed that there were 7 items in my shopping cart. I checked the items, and it was filled with children’s books, bilingual (Spanish or Hebrew) ones that I had planned on buying for Leo. I was motivated by an article I had recently read on how the brain works with regards to language. How being bilingual or multilingual makes our brains more flexible and that even babies in utero could distinguish language differences. So, I had planned to read books to our son in English and Spanish, because my son would have a flexible brain!

I deleted my cart items, too.

Screenshot_8_27_13_11_32_AM

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Leo, Miscarriage, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Tagged: bilingual, books, hebrew, leo, reading, spanish, wish list, wishes

A broken body

August 26, 20133 Comments

 

Henry Ford Hospital (The Flying Bed) by Frida Kahlo, 1932

Henry Ford Hospital (The Flying Bed) by Frida Kahlo, 1932

Frida Kahlo is one of my favorite artists. Her work is incredibly powerful. Her art, to me, was born out of tragedy, pain and heartache. An eternal ache from love, both for her husband (Diego Rivera) and the babies she loved and wanted, but was unable to have.

This particular piece is of her, lying naked and vulnerable in a hospital bed after having a miscarriage. It’s a boy and she holds in her hand all the connections to the various parts of her experience. From this site, it goes on to explain what each of the items in the image represent. The tear in her eye is obvious, the visible boy in the image is the manifestation of love for her husband, a piece of him that she could never have, Dieguito. The snail representing the slow process that a miscarriage can be, the female torso, the “cruel” looking machine to represent the mechanical part of the whole process, and lastly, the image of her broken pelvis.

This broken pelvis in her world represented an incredible amount of physical pain and I would imagine an incredible amount of emotional pain. For this “broken” part of her took away so much, including her ability to carry a child to term.

With Frida, I identify. In many ways, I always have, on so many different levels. In this specific case, I identify because of my broken body. Outwardly, perhaps no one can tell just how broken it is. My blood holds all my secrets. All my illness. My blood is what contains the clues of how sick I am. How sick I have been.

This is the cause for my Infertility. This is the cause for my miscarriages. This will more than likely be the cause of an earlier-than-hoped-for demise. This is the cause of my feeling so old, even though I am still so young.

Today, I went to a new doctor, an OB/GYN, to follow-up on my D&E procedure that I had almost two weeks ago. I was not able to return to Dr. J. Well, that’s not true, I was more than able, I am unwilling to return to his care, and I use that term quite loosely. I felt from the start that he was not very comfortable with the nature of my high risk pregnancy. He didn’t have to say it outright, I could sense it. I could sense it in his body language. I could sense it in the way he promised to do certain things and never followed through. Why? Well, because this baby would surely die anyway, why bother? That’s the way he made me feel. And many times I wished to leave his practice, but, I felt like I had not choice as we were already so intertwined with his practice and other doctors were already involved in managing my care, that he was mainly only there to check the heartbeat from time to time or just refer me out to someone else.

So, I went out to find a new OB/GYN that would be comfortable with me. That would show me the compassion I so deserve and to also make me feel that they are an integral part on my medical team. Someone, that should I get pregnant again, would be by my side and help guide me and be able to ease me through the anxiety I’d feel should I ever get pregnant again. That won’t think I’m crazy because I want my blood tested every other day in the first few weeks of pregnancy to ensure my pregnancy hormones are going up as they should. Someone that will actually call me and check in after they learn of a loss and not just avoid me or send me away.

After my experience over the past few months, I made a promise to myself. That any professional I would seek out to have on my team, I would speak up and ask direct questions. I did that today. I needed to know if I was within her comfort zone. It’s okay if I wasn’t, I just needed to know now instead of when I needed the care and then felt treated as if I were a dirty dish rag that no one wanted to touch.

As delicately as she could put it; I am beyond her comfort zone. I was lead to believe that I’d be more than likely beyond any OB’s comfort zone. Perhaps I’d be better suited having all prenatal care in the hands of a Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) doctor only. I already have one of those, but he, like many MFM doctors, only co-manages care.

And although she didn’t bring it up first, I mentioned surrogacy. And was told that if finances were of no concern, it’s perhaps a more viable option to consider, considering my complications and medical history. This is the second doctor that has had recent contact with me that has said that perhaps surrogacy is an option I should consider. Pregnancy is already hard on one’s body, my body is already working hard enough. Pregnancy will only complicate it more. And afterall, she said, I still have to Mother my child after pregnancy. I got the distinct feeling that what she was saying is that my conditions could risk my life during pregnancy.

Talk about feeling broken.

Broken heart. Broken spirit. Broken body.

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Infertility, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Tagged: art, broken, diabetes, high risk pregnancy

Quote: Yellow by Coldplay

August 24, 2013Leave a Comment

song-quote-xo-isabel-yellow-coldplay

Coldplay, one of my favorite bands. Yellow, one of my favorite songs.

Here are some of my favorite versions of this song, from the original, of course, and beyond:

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Daily, Music, Quotes & Images Tagged: coldplay, music, quote, yellow

Poem: Little Leo

August 24, 20136 Comments

While I’ve been working hard on expressing my innermost feelings through writing this blog, my husband has been diligently sitting quietly with his ears filled with music writing. I thought he was simply keeping a journal, instead, he was writing a poem for our son.

He wanted me to share it with you.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Little Leo

We prayed for strength and courage at the Kotel and Mount Zion,
Leaving notes as maps of hope leading to our little lion.

Monumental was the day we were blessed with this surprise,
Unmistakable the joy and love emblazoned in our eyes.

Along this journey we would stumble but never fall,
Your healthy heartbeat a beacon of hope to all.

I watched your little hand wave hello or maybe it was goodbye,
Eagerly embraced by happiness I would always cry.

Your Mother’s beauty radiates like rays of sunshine,
Playfully peaking around leaves to see this treasure of mine.

Her colossal courage and sacrifices you will never know,
The greatest Mother I could ever want for our Little Leo.

You grew from enduring love and hope to flesh and bone,
My thoughts now tormented by myriads of memories never known.

Perpetually I have cried an ominous river of tears,
Unbridled my anger flows along with my fears.

I feel hopelessly lost in a labyrinth of despair,
Guided only by the pain of knowing that this isn’t fair.

As parents we have so much love to give,
The King in our jungle of memories you will forever live.

Little Leo we will never feel your tranquil touch,
You are eternally etched in our hearts, we love you so much.

XO, Dad

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Filed Under: Judaism, Leo, Loss, Miscarriage, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Tagged: dad, grief, leo, little lion, love, poem

Vulnerability

August 24, 2013Leave a Comment

quote-xoisabel-vulnerability-brene_brown

Vulnerability. This is what writing this blog is all about, right? Opening my Kimono and bearing all to a whole world of friends, family and strangers alike.

I used to fear being vulnerable. Being vulnerable meant that I could be hurt. I instead built walls all around me so that I could protect myself. I had already begun to tear the walls down and learn to be a little more vulnerable with each passing day.

Being vulnerable used to feel like weakness. I don’t feel this way anymore, if anything, I find great power in being vulnerable. It means I can receive love and learn to love back. And that is never weakness.

Quote from: Brené Brown, Ph.D., LMSW

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Daily, Quotes & Images Tagged: brene brown, image, quote, vulnerability

A day out

August 23, 20134 Comments

Today was the first time in exactly two weeks that I’ve left the house alone. Today marked exactly two weeks that our nightmare began.

I needed to stop by work today to pick up some personal items of mine. I also went out to lunch with two wonderful women that I recently learned about that co-founded a project that I wish to stand behind. They are mothers that have experienced the types of losses that I have. Their stories are different, but the same. They had kind words to share, supportive hugs and lots of hope. I didn’t really shed a tear while I told them what happened to me. To Leo. To us. It was as if I was wearing a full-body brace to keep me upright and stable.

Part of my journey to meet them was by my usual means of transportation to the City; the train. It was bittersweet. The last time I rode the train, I was still pregnant. I had a bump and I had started to struggle a little bit with back pain and I always hoped I’d be able to get an empty seat. Today, the train was empty as I wasn’t riding during the usual rush-hour traffic.

All day I payed more attention to things. To people. I saw one man sleeping on the hard ground wrapped in blankets and surrounded by the warm comfort of his dog, his companion. I saw lots and lots of pregnant women. I saw lots of baby strollers and young children.

I also saw a woman in a moment of deep sorrow. She sat right in front of me. She was a pretty woman. She was wearing a white eyelet dress. She had a lime green cover on the iPad she was reading from that she pulled from her red backpack. Not too long after she arrived, a tall & handsome man showed up and he bent over to embrace her while she sat still. He kissed her on the lips and on her cheeks. He put his hands on her body, her thighs. Surely it was her husband, or lover, I thought. And then just like that, she began to sob. I could only tell after he separated himself just the tiniest bit from her body. Her entire body shuddered with pain, the tears just fell from her eyes and rolled off the tip of her nose. He held her closer. He took out a few tissues from his pocket and wiped her tears away. She looked so comforted by his presence. It looked like she was wearing her full body brace, but with the appearance of her friend, a loved one, she was able to shed the brace and let go.

I felt as if I was watching the scenario that plays out in our bed almost every night. For, it’s every night that my brace starts to give out and my resolve to be strong is no longer there. It’s when my mind loses its guard and I’m no longer able to stop the images and thoughts and the deep longing for our son from flooding my entire being.

Today, that moment came much earlier. My strength started to weaken on the train ride home. There was a family with a cute little girl and a stroller. And it made me remember that before I made cremation plans for Leo, just a few weeks ago we were giddy with excitement at the Baby store testing out strollers. Then, everything just made me want to cry. Everything. I haven’t been able to shake it since then.

And then tonight at 11:11 pm, I said what I usually say … “Make a wish! It’s 11:11” — and then I remember that on my birthday, just two days before we learned of Leo’s fate, I had wished the hardest I had ever wished on the candle of my dessert; please protect Leo. Please let him be healthy. Please let him be born. Please let him be OK. Please let the tests be wrong. Please, just get us through this, just let it all be OK.

And I blew out my candle.

And my wish didn’t come true.

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Leo, Loss, Miscarriage, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Tagged: grief, leo, loss, miscarriage, second trimester loss, wishes

A crimson heart

August 21, 20133 Comments

We’ve been waiting for news on Leo’s remains. We were told we’d be notified when the Neptune Society had taken possession of his little body.

Today was that day. We received a call about an hour ago and I paid over the phone for him to be treated with dignity and care. Our Funeral Counselor has been trained well. To treat others with compassion. Simply hearing her say “I wanted you to know that we picked up your baby this morning and he’s in our care…” was enough for me to exhale and feel like we’re not the only ones on the planet that knew that he was a baby. OUR baby. And that he was real and his passing has caused deep sorrow and grief.

I know this is part of the process, but, I wept after hanging up the phone. I wept because I was relieved that he was no longer at the hospital and could finally have some sort of rest, some closure. I weep because I am anticipating the next phone call: He’s ready to be picked up.

He’ll be in his permanent home, a tiny little keepsake urn with his name engraved on it: Leo.

It’s a crimson heart, because just like in our hearts, his name will be forever engraved.

XO, IsabelGrecian_Series___CRM 3-458x324

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Filed Under: Leo, Loss, Miscarriage, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Tagged: cremation, leo, love, miscarriage

This time it was different

August 20, 20136 Comments

This time it was different. My previous losses always happened so very early. Before the world could know. Before my body changed outwardly enough to even have a clue as to my delicate state.

This time it was different. This time, we did all the “right” things and waited until we were past the first trimester before announcing to the world (AKA Facebook) that we were expecting.

This time it was different. I picked out 3 pairs of shoes out so that I could photograph them and add my own creative twist on our pregnancy announcement.

This time it was different. I felt morning sickness. I felt him move. We saw his little heartbeat. It was strong. It was as strong as a Lion’s.

This time it was different. We knew what we were having. All the little ones before were mostly a mystery. Only a whisper of a dream. What-ifs and what-nots.

This time it was different. I had a bump. A very real bump. I had only started to embrace this dream. Embrace my growing belly and who was inside.

This time it was different. I went on a shopping spree for maternity clothes. My shirts were too short to cover the stretchy panel of my maternity jeans. I had to put them all away. I think “maybe I can use them next time” but, admit, I’m not sure if there will be a next time.

This time it was different. It’s a BOY!

This time was different. We had picked out his name. His name is Leonardo. Leo. Our son, always & forever.

BabyG_Preg_announcement_web BabyG_Preg_announcement_blue

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Infertility, Leo, Loss, Miscarriage, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Tagged: hope, leo, loss, miscarriage

Quote: Truth

August 20, 2013Leave a Comment

A tough one yet true and liberating when we understand pic.twitter.com/GXeQpkmCx2

— Rebecca Perkins (@rebperkins1) August 20, 2013

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Filed Under: Quotes & Images Tagged: healing, reb perkins, truth

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Hello. my name is Isabel and this blog is all about my experiences dealing with infertility, recurrent pregnancy loss, and our new adventure as intended parents in our surrogacy journey. Also, a little bit of everything else in my life. Welcome! read more...

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