Anxiety

Anxiety is a part of who I am, it's always present, the degree just fluctuates.  Usually I can manage it reasonably well, and when I can't I have a prescription for Xanax.  But today I find myself spiraling down the rabbit hole of anxiety with no ladder to help me out.  I woke up this morning with a feeling of doom.  I know it's irrational, but it's there.

Every one of my losses has come hand in hand with another loss.  Our first child and my grandpa.  My beloved dog, Gavin, and one of our cats.  Now our precious girl.  I can't stop my brain from tumbling end over end with the question "who is next?".  Rationally I know that's not the way things work.  But tell that to my anxiety.

Then I started down the crazy train tracks of googling hereditary premature ovarian failure and recurrent triploidy.  I feel like there HAS to be a hereditary issue at work and it terrifies me for the boys.  My mom had issues similar to mine, although no known miscarriages.  Her and I have so much in common, including other health issues.  So there has to be a link.  My infertility and our losses are not an independent, out of the blue issue.  So what does this mean for my biological children?  I spent the better part of an hour searching, searching, searching for answers.  I found none.

Anxiety is a bitch.

Triploidy again

Our baby had triploidy 69 XXX.  Same exact cause for our loss, just this time we lost a girl.  We now know for sure we have a son and a daughter in heaven.  It hurts more than words can express.  I'm so angry.  Triploidy is supposed to occur in 1% of pregnancies and the odds of recurrent triploidy is less than 1%.  So once again we are on the wrong side of odds.  Our RE confirmed today that it would be unwise to continue with my eggs.  I knew it was coming but it still majorly sucks to hear from a doctor that I will not have any more biological children.  Genetics are only a teeny tiny part of what makes up a family but it will still be a grieving process of it's own.  I'm not sure where we go from here.  We're not permanently closing the door on possibilities but we will be taking some time to make decisions.

Band aids don't fix bullet holes

Forgive me for using a Taylor Swift lyric as my title, but it stuck out to me on my drive in to work this morning.  Right now I feel like I have a huge, gaping wound in the middle of my chest and a sign that points to my uterus that reads "vacant".  I remember this feeling from before: Trying to walk around with a plastered on fake smile, trying to pretend our baby and my grief doesn't exist.  We're being extremely open about this loss but it doesn't make the day to day any easier.   The world moves on quickly but I can't.  So I have to put that smile on my face and pretend.  Fake it to make it.  The truly terrible thing is that I know the smile will become easier to maintain, it will even become genuine again.  It's not fair that I know this, it's not fair that this is my third time walking this stupid path.  I want a new path.