Still Passing Open Windows ....

Dr. G00gle

A very happy festive season to everyone dropping by. I hope that you are surrounded by love and support and that 2008 brings us all good things, may it be a better year if this one was bad and if this one was good, may it continue to go well.

I am trying to reply to everyone who has commented. I am so touched by all the comments I have received over this time and the sense of community and belonging it has brought me, thank you so much. And a big hello to everyone passing through Heathrow, I wish we could have met up and I could have thanked you for your messages.

I am researching over here. On Christmas Eve? I know, I know. I'm waiting for H to arrive with the car and to kill time I have been consulting Dr. G00gle. I found a name that might be worth investigating further and Y@le Maternal-Fetal Medicine seems to be doing a lot with premature birth and its prevention. Does anyone have personal experience of this school or know of anywhere else or of anyone who I could contact about the premature rupture of membranes and premature birth?

Comfort

Things fall in two categories at the moment; incredibly comforting or nothing. I feel like I am more sensitive than usual to some things. I climbed into bed with a book yesterday and it felt wonderful; the bed was perfect and I felt safe and loved, it was the perfect combination of factors for that moment. Then at other times I lie on the couch in my dressing gown and feel nothing. I want to do nothing. I want to eat nothing. I could stare at television and not care what was on. I could be in a crowded room or a nightclub and it would make no difference. Whatever.

All I can do at the moment is what I must do. I must get up. I must get dressed and have breakfast. I must go to the supermarket with relatives. If you asked me what I wanted to do, I have no idea. There is just this emptiness, this nothing, no desire, no likes or dislikes, just a vague feeling of nothing matters.

And the only thing that interests me is related to falling pregnant and bearing a healthy child. I skimmed the entire USA Today looking for articles on new research on infertility treatments. There is a part of me that has so much hope that the next pregnancy will be ok and then another part of me that is so scared that something will go wrong at the last minute again and that the floor will disappear under our feet again, no matter what we try.

Shopping therapy

I flew back today and came through Heathrow. 'I'm depressed,' I thought, 'Let me buy a nice handbag,' and I strolled in to Mulberry and looked at the price tag of a cute bag. £646. 'Well,' I thought, walking out of Mulberry, 'Maybe I'm not that depressed after all.'  I think even after all this, having £646 on my credit card would still be more depressing.

I bought an inspirational Chr1stian book at a book shop (I am desperate at this point for anything that can point me in the right direction and modern medecine seems to be failing me). The first chapter is about building a positive self image and they tell the story of Leah from the Old Test@ment. Jacob works for Leah's father for seven years so he can marry Rachel, Leah's sister. Leah's father wants to marry Leah off first, as she is the older sister, so he tricks Jacob who first marries Leah and then has to work another seven years to marry Rachel who he really loves. The story says that the L*rd saw that Leah was despised and so he blessed her womb and she bore seven children, the six boys becoming the fathers of six of the tribes of Israel, the point being that Leah's life does have meaning despite her not having the traditional trappings of success i.e. a husband who loves you. Rachel, however, has a husband who adores her but she was always barren.

'Super,' I thought, 'So it's a choice between being loved by your husband or having children? Very inspirational. Not.' I then considered changing my name by deed poll to Rachel, as it seems fitting, but knowing my luck lately, the day the deed poll came into effect, H would meet a stunning, uberfertile colleague and run off with her and I would be left, Rachel the Barren and now Rachel the Barren and Unloved.

So all in all my shopping therapy at the airport was not very successful. I did enjoy the Cadburys chocolate bar though, it was very good.

Away

First of all, thank you so much to everyone who has commented and especially to those sweet, sweet bloggers who have sent people here. It means so much to me to have your words. It also feels like a little recognition of my daughter and I am so glad she had that, that she didn't just disappear in the night, never to be acknowledged by anyone except H and me. Thank you, your support has helped so much in this horrible, sad time.

I have come home for a week. My parents have a beautiful home and it is somewhere where I always feel at peace. I am a mess, I burst into tears all the time but it helps to be here and be surrounded by mist and greenery and quiet. My parents also have a puppy and he is so cute, you can't help smiling when he bounds along through the long grass with his tongue out and enjoyment of life in every bounce.

I think about what to do a lot. I wake up in the morning thinking, "What on earth do I do?" and lie there as long as possible before my father calls me for breakfast. It's also good to be here with my parents and their routine and not in the flat while H has to work. I just couldn't cope with being alone all day at the moment. I know that, even me who loves to be alone, at this point I realise that for my health I need people around me.

I wonder whether we should try IVF one more time. After all, this can't happen a third time can it? But I know it can, and still this unbelievable desire to have a child pushes me on and says, "Just try once more." I think about going to see a specialist who deals with premature rupture of the membranes but I have no idea who. Is there even a specialist? It seems like a condition one can do nothing about, except try and see. We are planning on contacting an agency who deals with surrogacy. I thnk about starting the adoption process. I think about trying all three; doing an egg retrieval and storing them while we start the surrogacy procedings and attending the first adoption meeting. I think about just accepting that we won't have children and it seems both easy to do and impossible to accept. It's just more of the same, which is not bad. We have a good life. H and my relationship is stronger than I would have thought possible, we love to travel and go out to restaurants, we could have a nice life without kids. And then I think of H with children and my sisters having children and I think that we have to carry on, just a little bit more. I guess I am just not ready to stop yet. And I have no idea whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. There are arguments for both.

The End

And Round II comes to an end. Not with a bang with just with the well known dribble of amniotic fluid. It happened on Wednesday night and felt horribly familiar. One week later than it happened last time and on the day we did the 20 week scan to check on foetal development ironically. My doctor thinks it is due to the bleeding episode I had two weeks ago. Bleeding can cause a slight inflammation as the area heals and this can weaken the membranes which unfortunately in my case led to a premature rupture.

I gave birth last night to a tiny little girl with H's nose. I didn't see the baby last time but this time I wanted to and they brought her to me wrapped in a white cloth with a pink bracelet around it with her name and date of birth. Such a tiny little thing, born far too soon.

"Just very bad luck," says my doctor. "The placenta was very low and this can result in bleeding as it moves upwards." It could happen again, it could not but a week in hospital with needles and drips and a Monty Pythonesque epidural experience makes me loath to go through all this again and risk losing a third child. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, I think, to lose one baby seems like carelessness, to lose two is unfortunate and to lose three would just be masochistic obsession.

We are thinking more seriously about surrogacy. H would like to try it with a U.S. agency who have experience and all the reassuring structures in place. I waver between surrogacy, adoption, trying again and a feeling that the universe is just saying, "You? No children. Get on with your life. Next!"

In the meantime I think about Christmas decorations. Either our flat will be decorated from the front doorknob to the dish towels or I will put out three candles which will sit forlornly on the buffet until May.