Sunday, August 24, 2008

death, taxes and parenthood?

"What about Zuma? When we have a baby should we name it Zuma?"

This has been a common refrain in our household since long before we were even married. I hear an unconventional name (or a word that could become an unconventional name: Badger, anyone?) and turn to my husband and suggest that we use it. It's always a joke - obviously, I mean Zuma? We all know I'm not smoking anything that would cause me to think that's a good idea. - but I think subconsciously it's been an attempt to scare the hubby with names so outlandish that my preferred, slightly offbeat monikers will seem tame in comparison. Regardless of our current status we still play this little game on a weekly basis. I haven't even adjusted it to "*if* we have a baby" - not yet willing to vocalize that this whole parenthood thing just might not be in the cards for us. But for awhile now the phrase catches in my throat for a moment. "When we have a baby..." How can I be so sure?


I dreamt last night that I was 40 weeks pregnant and in labor. My stomach bulged unnaturally in front of me and on the right side I could feel individual fingers and toes. I brushed my hands along my belly, feeling odd ridges and bumps of knuckles pushing out through my skin. I remember thinking that it was a strange feeling, not entirely pleasant, but that I was determined to experience it to the fullest as I knew I was so lucky that I was in a position to feel it at all. I'd beaten infertility and recurrent miscarriages and was now finally about to deliver a baby. A doctor entered the room to assist in the home-birth I'd requested. He had me lie on the bed but didn't check to see if I was dilated. Rather he produced a scalpel and began to slice away at my full belly. I calmly asked him to stop, told him that I'd like to at least try for a vaginal birth. He shrugged his shoulders, said "to each his own" and put away the knife. For countless hours I labored, feeling uncomfortable but no real pain. Occassionally I checked myself for dilation (the doctor clearly wasn't interested in doing things the old fashioned way) and learned that I was progressing. After hours of seemingly endless labor I found I was finally fully dilated and my baby's head was flush with the opening of my birth canal. Even upon feeling my own child's hair, wet and matted to the top of her head I wasn't frantic or even excited that I had finally reached this point. Even now I didn't quite believe that the baby would ever arrive. Or arrive alive. I knew I needed to push and push I did, but it did little good. I didn't feel any contractions and couldn't time my pushes appropriately. For hours I continued (often on the floor in an empty room) knowing that it would do no good. My body simply didn't know how to reproduce.

Just as my dream-self had anticipated she never did deliver that baby. I awoke, leaving my dream; leaving her crouched on the ground alone, doing everything she could to birth a baby who had no chance of ever being born.


I've taken nearly three weeks of birth control pills now and will take three weeks' more before beginning stims. For over a week I've had consistent spotting and as of last night a bout of bright red bleeding, spilling over the edges of my pantyliner. I know it's normal to spot while on birth control pills and I'm not genuinely concerned. But I can't help but wonder if my body will ever (EVER) succeed in not bleeding for more than 3 weeks. Pregnancy never held the blood at bay, even when the babies were healthy and hearts beating. Medication eased the spotting some, but full-flow always arrived before the meds stopped. Perhaps PIO will be the key and in this next cycle I will manage to stay dry until after my beta. Maybe. Or more likely I will start to bleed again. Before I've even had the chance to hope.


Anonymous said...

It must be such an incredible scary journey.

Big hugs.


Anonymous said...

Thank you for your comment on my blog. It is nice to "meet" you! I have read a little of yours so far, although I plan to catch up, and just want to say how sorry I am for your losses. What a difficult journey you have been on. I will be following along and keeping you in my prayers.
RPL sucks!!!

Anonymous said...

RPL is a f#$*@! It's scarey and will forver ruin our pregnancy experience.

Tab said...

I'm so sorry you are going through this. Spotting is the worst!! You will be in my prayers!

seriously? said...

Here from ICLW, although I read quite a bit. I think some people are smoking when they name their kids. I just don't get it (full disclosure, I don't think Apple is that weird).

Good luck with your upcoming cycle!

nh said...

Lots of hugs. Spotting is so horrid, I hope you don't have any more for a long time.


Elize said...

Hi! Your dream was really hectic! So sorry you had to go through RPL. Holding thumbs for your upcoming cycle!

Kymberli said...

Returning an ICLW comment.

I'm so glad that I've found your blog. Your words are so very moving. I'll be thinking of you and will be watching along.

Katie said...

Here from ICLW. I'm glad I came across your blog because I like what you have to say. I will be thinking about you as you continue on your journey

Emily said...

Crazy dream! So much symbolism...

My husband just said last night that he is starting to picture us as never having kids and it scared the hell out of me because I am not in that place yet, not even close.

3 weeks is going to fly by and I hope your spotting takes a permanent vacay!

this one said...

Hmm, maybe your dream meant that you are still in the middle of the don't know how it will happen so there was no ending. Sounds like a dream you won't forget any time soon.
Spotting sucks because it's so scary, but maybe it doesn't mean to much for you? Maybe it's just a trait your body has, healthy pregnancy or not?

Good luck with this cycle. I'm rooting for you.

Shinejil said...

Spotting sucks, sucks, sucks. I hate it with a passion. I sympathize with anyone wrestling with it, esp. with all the other sadness you've been dealing with.