XO, Isabel

Hope and Courage: Our Surrogacy Journey

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Little Lion, it’s been one month

September 14, 20135 Comments

Leo, it’s been one month since you left my body, the only home you ever knew. I don’t have the words to tell you what the past month has been like or what the past several months have been like, since I found out I was pregnant with you in early May. You are one of the best things that has happened to me and losing you, one of the worst. For however brief a moment in time, I’m glad I was your mom.

I have a picture story, instead.

This is the positive pregnancy test. I'm amazed the photo is in focus, since my hands were shaking so much.

This is the positive pregnancy test. I’m amazed the photo is in focus, since my hands were shaking so much.

 

The day after finding out I was pregnant, I had to visit the Emergency Room for some tests and to ensure everything was okay. It was scary, but, It was worth it so that we both would be okay.

The day after finding out I was pregnant, I had to visit the Emergency Room for some tests and to ensure everything was okay. It was scary, but, It was worth it so that we both would be okay.

 

My medical team took great care of me. They wanted to take every precaution to ensure I was as healthy as I could be. They wanted to check my beating heart for 24-hours. I would do anything for you.

My medical team took great care of me. They wanted to take every precaution to ensure I was as healthy as I could be. They wanted to check my beating heart for 24-hours. I would do anything for you.


Your dad snuck a video of the first time we saw the flicker of your beating heart.

And then we got to watch you grow! Here, we called you a little alien, because you looked like one.

And then we got to watch you grow! Here, we called you a little alien, because you looked like one.

 

And here you grew even more! Now we could see your bones and we started calling you, lovingly, Skeletor. You even waved hello!

And here you grew even more! Now we could see your bones and we started calling you, lovingly, Skeletor. You even waved hello!

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And then my belly began to grow! I even felt your flutters, like butterfly kisses from within.

xo-isabel_blog--7 xo-isabel_blog--6 xo-isabel_blog--8And then, because your mama is not very patient, we went in to go get an elective ultrasound to find out if you were a boy or girl … and you showed us, oh boy! We just didn’t know that it would be the last time we’d see you alive and moving. We just didn’t know, baby boy. Or we would have looked at you longer. We were so excited to be having a son. A girl would have been just as great, and a first on your dad’s side, but I couldn’t be happier to be having a little son. I was finally allowing myself to dream a little. We window-shopped for baby boy clothes. And started thinking about baby shower ideas with your Tia.

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This was my last “bump” photo with you. It was my birthday. I was 18 weeks pregnant. I was happy to see my belly grow. Little did I know you were already gone. At dinner that night, the waitress brought me a creme brûlée dessert with a lit candle. I made a wish that you would be safe and healthy. That we would get through this and that I would do anything for you. Sadly, Leo, my wish didn’t come true. I worked so hard to keep you, Leo. I did, I promise.

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And then, on that dreadful Monday, we saw your body lying still. We heard no heartbeat, but only the movement from happiness to sorrow at the knowing of having lost you. Maybe one day we’ll have more children, but I’ll always miss you, Leo. I’ll miss the little future that I had hoped for you, for us. And you see, that’s what I mourn. I don’t mourn that I won’t be able to have children, because I know I have options. I mourn losing YOU. You are my son and you died. I can’t change that, I can’t turn back time and bring you back. But, I can tell you how much you meant to us. To me. You were wanted. You are loved. You are missed, and your spark will live with me forever. You will always be my Little Lion.

rainbow-lion_lucy-ann-moore_illustration

I love you.

XO,  Mom

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Filed Under: Leo, Miscarriage Tagged: August 14 2013, grief, leo, little lion, loss, Photos

Why I don’t like the DMV

September 11, 20135 Comments

It was August 8, 2013. It was two days before my birthday and before my drivers license would expire. Yes, I procrastinated. But, I felt proud that I was going to at least get it done BEFORE it actually expired. Yay me!

I didn’t have an appointment and the line was out the door. Once I got a peek inside, I realized the line wasn’t so bad. I had gotten up earlier that day and actually used a blowdryer on my hair. I put on extra makeup, including eyeliner. I never do. I was so excited to actually take a new picture for my license because I was pregnant. I was excited to be able to show Leo my license one day and say “you were in the picture, too!” My current picture was taken just after our honeymoon and I had a nice smile and glowing, tanned skin. Both memories I was looking forward to sharing with our kid.

Back to the line. I eventually made it to the point where you’d be assigned a number. G93, I think it was. The wait wasn’t very long. I had all my paperwork ready. I was sitting down and fiddling with my phone. I was observing everyone and posted to Facebook asking if there was a site like the People of Walmart, but for the DMV. A few moments later my phone was ringing. It was a number I somewhat recognized and figured it would be important to answer. It was our Genetic Counselor. He called with some new and some “scary numbers”, as he called them. My number was called right at this very moment. I tried to see if I could put him on hold while I dealt with the clerk. I was a little bit distraught. I told the Genetic Counselor to please call me back in 10 minutes.

I completed the initial part of my paperwork and was supposed to go back and sit down and wait to be called to have my picture taken. Tears were already filling my eyes. How could I take a picture now? Instead, I left and sat in my car to wait out those minutes. He called back in 17 minutes. I remember, because I looked.  About 9 minutes of crying and anxiety. He called to tell me that our second trimester screening had come back as positive for Down Syndrome. And the rest of the story has already been told.

I’m sitting in the car, I didn’t know if I should go back in and handle the rest of the DMV transaction. I mean, how could I? I now had tear stains on my cheeks and the whatever was left of my mascara and eyeliner was hanging on by a thread. I called my husband instead. I asked him to come home and then I began sobbing. That we had received bad news. He tried his best to comfort me, and I tried my best to convince him that it was all going to be okay.  It wasn’t.

And, my license is now expired. I have to go and get that taken care of. And it’s taking every bit of my strength to make myself go. Every day I delay it. I understand why, now.

I don’t want a license photo that is just of me. It was supposed to be the both of us.

XO, Isabel

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Filed Under: Leo, Loss, Miscarriage Tagged: DMV, grief, leo, loss, photo

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

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

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

Leo’s Story

August 17, 20136 Comments

“Whoever survives a test, whatever it may be, must tell the story. That is his duty.”
― Elie Wiesel

I made a promise. I promised that I would find the words to share the story of what has happened to me. My husband. Our family. Our friends. What has happened has happened to us all. In varying degrees, surely. But, this story happened. This story is happening. This story will continue to be told so long as I continue to find the words to share it with you. This is how I will gather my strength. I will not hide behind a veil of privacy. I am choosing to not be silent about infertility. About miscarriage. About perinatal loss. I will not stay silent. There are so many faces and I will show mine with bravery.

Here’s Leo’s story:

Leo was my 5th pregnancy. He was very much desired. Very much loved. I was feeling a bit under the weather in early May and on a whim, decided to take a pregnancy test since my cycle was a bit late. I just felt off. Something was up. I bought a test at the Walgreens adjacent to my office building. I remember one of my coworkers being in the store and I didn’t want to be caught in the pregnancy test & family planning section of the store, so I made a circle around the aisle to avoid being seen. I was able to make my purchase and dash out of the store unnoticed. My first stop was to my desk where I discreetly opened the pregnancy test package and slipped one into my pocket and off to the bathroom I went. I took the test and almost immediately I saw two lines. If you have EVER experienced infertility, you will know that time and time again, you only expect ONE thing and that’s a BFN (Big Fat Negative). I saw those two lines and my jaw dropped in disbelief. How can this be? I got pregnant without any medical intervention? I remember my hands shaking and I nervously tried to sort out what to do. I start trying to reach my husband, I  believe text messages and Skype messages went along the lines of “OMFG. Oh $h!t! I’m pregnant!”

I immediately planted myself in a conference room with a telephone and my laptop and started calling around looking for a perinatologist and an OB/GYN, since I didn’t have one in the area in which we now lived. I certainly have never been to an OB, as I always avoided them to preserve my own sanity. I knew I was in trouble. I am a diabetic. I wasn’t on any medications, as I was foolishly trying to heal my own body with good food and I wanted to do it without medication. I was drinking green smoothies and cut out most all meat and animal products, I was feeling great! However, I knew I had to get on another plan. I had to get in to see a doctor immediately. I needed to be on insulin, and fast. The first week are the most critical in the development of a baby, and I know this. And I can blame myself all I want here. I can say that I had no clue that I’d ever spontaneously get pregnant the way we’re “supposed” to, because it just never happened to me. I was terrified. Perinatologist offices told me that they didn’t see patients without a referral from an OB, so I called a bunch of offices and missed out on one because of my due date being in January. And, so I took the first appointment with an OB that could see me the very next day on Friday, May 10, 2013.

My appointment was late in the afternoon and I was anxious to get the desperate help I needed. I feared judgment and criticism for foolishly being unmedicated. Because, on top of being diabetic, I have some issues with hypertension. It’s all part of an incredibly awful condition called PCOS, or more commonly now, Metabolic Syndrome. It’s a trifecta of awfulness. Being the Internet user that I am, I of course Yelped our soon-to-be OB and he had mixed reviews. We’ll call him Dr. J. He met with me along with his nurse, whom I will call Lolly (more on her later). I went ahead, despite the mixed reviews, because I needed someone NOW. And I figured if I wasn’t satisfied, I could switch out to a new doctor later. He saw me, did an exam, did a quick ultrasound, but it was too soon to see much. He took my blood pressure and checked my heart. His next move was to send me to the ER. It was late on Friday and he was not comfortable leaving me unmedicated and the fastest way to get test results and get me medication would be a trip to the ER. So, there we were, nervous and waiting. I was given insulin. I was given IV medication for high blood pressure. I was given lots and lots of fluid, because apparently I was pretty severely dehydrated. By that very next Monday, I was building a team of medical professionals that would help me along, including a great RN in the Diabetes & Pregnancy management program as well as a perinatologist and a cardiologist. I was feeling confident I had built a GREAT team to help me through this.

Because of my fertility history and recurrent pregnancy loss (RPL), I was beyond terrified. I was certain that I would miscarry at any moment just like every other time. I had never gotten as far to even see a small little embryo, yet alone the beating of a heart. I became a model patient. I was compliant with EVERYTHING. I changed to a very restrictive diet. I had become insulin dependent. I took my blood pressure medication religiously, only for it to cause terrible side effects. I did everything I could. The weeks passed and we were so far moving along as smoothly as possible. We saw growth in ultrasounds. We saw an embryo. We saw the flicker of a heartbeat. We heard a heartbeat. Each visit we grew more and more hopeful. I made it to 8 weeks. Then at around 10 weeks or so, we began our integrated testing to check for abnormalities, such as Trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome) and Trisomy 18. We had a Nuchal Translucency (NT scan) test performed, and when we received those results we were relieved to learn that we were screen negative with a 99.8% chance that our child did not have T21.

We made it to 13 weeks. We made it to the second trimester! Of course everything would be fine. It was FINALLY my time! Everyone told me so. Everyone hoped for me. We all believed. We started to believe it, we started to make plans. We started thinking of names. We started to get anxious to find out the sex of our child. My sister started talking about baby shower dates. I started poking around baby sites to look at baby gear. We made it to 14 weeks, and 15 weeks … and then to 16 weeks, 5 days. On this day, it was a Wednesday, we couldn’t wait any longer we were bubbling with excitement, that we paid for an elective ultrasound and to our delight, we were told we were having a BOY! Our little Leo. We were excited to share with our families and friends, that all special planning for unique and creative ways to announce this news flew out the window and we spent time on the telephone calling our parents from the car in the parking lot. Excitement all around.

On this very day, 16 weeks, 5 days, I went for the final part of our integrated testing. Not worried one little bit. In retrospect, when they did the ultrasound, I noticed that he was measuring about a week behind. Up until then, he had been measuring right on target. I just thought it was because it was a different ultrasound machine. First time there. I don’t know what, I just didn’t think much of it.

Then, it’s Thursday, August 8. Late in the afternoon, I get a phone call from our genetic counselor. I’m at the DMV and ask if he could call me back in 10 minutes. But, he has bad news for me. He tells me so in the very short time we did speak. I nervously awaited his return call in my car. I was already crying and trying to pull myself together to have a conversation with someone that is more than likely going to deliver some very difficult news.

He calls back after 17 minutes. He tells me he’s going to give me some numbers that are going to sound scary. My levels came back as screen positive for Down Syndrome (Trisomy 21). He explained that just because we were screen positive, it did not mean that he definitely has T21, but that we had a greater than 1 in 3 chance. He mentioned that the main reason was because my Inhibin-A level was very elevated. Where the expected range should be less than 2, mine was at 5.8. He went on to explain that elevated Inhibin-A levels also can be indicative of a placental problem that is associated with Intra Uterine Growth Restriction (IUGR), pre-eclampsia and pre-term labor. He went on to explain that an increased Inhibin-A level and its associated problems could cause increased blood pressure, of which I had just noticed that my medications weren’t working as they were before. He had a couple of options for us; We could come in on Friday or Monday. Since my birthday was on Saturday, I wanted to at least try and enjoy my weekend without more worry. So, we opted for a Monday appointment.

On Monday, August 12, 2013 we meet with the genetic counselor and she starts to explain the results and how they follow certain patterns. That although we sort of matched some of the typical patterns for T21, they also weren’t typical, especially the very elevated Inhibin-A level. We had a few options, including proceeding with a level II ultrasound, a blood test (Harmony) and/or amniocentesis. We opted for the Harmony blood test, rather than amnio, as we didn’t want to risk the life of our baby. We are then sent out to the waiting room and wait to be called back for our ultrasound. To be honest, I was sort of looking forward to see Leo again. I always enjoyed watching him move around and I was curious to see how much he had grown and to also reconfirm that it was a boy!

Sadly, I knew there was something terribly wrong the moment they began the ultrasound. There was no movement at all. I couldn’t see a heartbeat. I couldn’t see him move. He was just laying there still. I was holding my breath. I asked “is there no cardiac activity?” She says, “just a moment. when was the last time you saw your doctor?”

I started to cry. She turned on the audio and there was just silence. No heart to be heard. And I can’t shake the image of his little still body just lying there. She excuses herself and a few moments later the genetic counselor and Perinatologist (Dr. DM, who happens to be the wife of my Perinatologist, Dr. EM) come in to tell me that they want to take a second look. After they did, they just all said they were so sorry. The doctor in the room tells me that she will tell her husband the news, that she knows I am his patient. That she’ll call my OB (Dr. J) to ask what our next steps should be. The genetic counselor calls the State of California to discuss whether or not we should proceed with an Amnio anyway, but they all decided that it would be a moot point. Dr. DM comes back to tell me that Dr. J told her that they don’t handle 2nd trimester D&E procedures in their office or hospital and that I would need to be seen by someone else. I was referred to a Dr. K and they got me in the next day to start the two-day procedure. I’ll explain this process in another post.

My son left my body on Wednesday, August 15, 2013. May he forever rest in peace. And may I know that I did everything I could to keep him safe. To keep him with me and I wish I could do things differently, but I can’t. I can’t take back what happened. It just did.

We love you, Leo. You were wanted. You were dreamt of. You will always be a part of us. Forever and ever.

XO, Mom

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

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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