It's been quite a while since my last update, which was my failed IVF (#3). Since then, we did a frozen embryo transfer with our last little embryo, and we got pregnant! Our beta levels looked great and we were so very excited. Then we got to the ultrasound. Baby was measuring a week behind with a heart beat of 104 bpm (should have been minimum 140bpm.) Everyone was pretty grim about the situation but our nurse told us it may be a slow grower and not to worry just yet. We had another ultrasound scheduled one week later. At that ultrasound, baby had regressed a day and there was only a "flicker" of a heartbeat. In the nicest words possible, they told us our baby was dying, but we had to wait until the heart completely stopped to "confirm fetal demise" and schedule a D&C. So, we had to wait another week and go in for another ultrasound. 2.5 weeks after getting the news that our baby wasn't going to make it, we went for our last ultrasound and were told the baby had, in fact, died. I had a D&C 2 days later.
But that's not really what triggered me to update the blog (the D&C was June 16). Today I am blogging because I am struggling.
It is "that time of year". The time of year that I start getting time hop memories of being pregnant with Zoey and Piper. The time of year that I remember scheduling the gender ultrasound, planning the gender reveal party, thinking of a baby shower theme, creating my registry, hearing about how much bigger my belly was getting, and talking about how excited I was to be "half way there!!"
I am not sure what it is, but I feel like the second year of this grief, for me, is harder than the first. Maybe it's because I was still slightly numb that first year. Maybe it's because, by this point, I honestly thought I would either be pregnant again or have a newborn. Maybe it's because the ideas of "acts of kindness" or "having a memorial" or any of those distractions are not on my mind anymore... it's just grief that remains. Raw, hard, sickening, take your breath away grief.
Once again (like last year) I am finding myself struggling with daily life. It's so hard to deal with this kind of thing in my profession. I am a first grade teacher!!! Synonymous with happy, bubbly, excited about the littlest things (example: today I had to throw a legit 30 second dance party for one of my kiddos reaching her 5 point goal on a reading app). It's taking every ounce of strength and energy I have inside me to pull this off for my first graders every second of the day... to the point that when I am not in front of kids (walking down the hallway, at lunch, etc.) I feel like a zombie.. like my brain just needs to shut down for a second so it can gear up for the next facade session I put on for my kids.
I hate this. I hate having to muster up a ridiculous amount of energy just to fake happy. I hate having nothing left to give anyone else because I give it all within the 4 walls of my classroom. But in a weird way, I also love it. I love this time of year because I get to remember my baby girls. I spend 9-10 months out of the year shoving their memory to the back corners of my mind so I can survive like a normal person. But these 3 months are dedicated to them. These 3 months let me relive my time with them, to feel the pain, because the pain shows how much I love them.
For me, time is not healing these wounds. In fact, this year is actually harder than last year, because there is nothing there to mask my pain (oh I'm so sad, but I'm planning a memorial! Oh I'm so sad, but we are starting this fertility treatment!) I'm just.. sad.
I'm just sad.
