:(

How something as routine and silly as flushing the toilet can become so difficult and painful? I started bleeding yesterday, and every single time I go to the bathroom I cannot avoid thinking that somewhere in tbe blood I'm flushin away is my baby, and I am letting him go like waste. 

That may be one of the hardest things about early miscarriage, that you can only say goodbye to a gush of blood. I may have just been five weeks pregnant, but I already loved this baby, who was wanted and waited for. 

I'm in pain, and look terrible, but the damage is to my soul, not to my body. Is my heart what will need some patches. And even if I have another baby, I won't forget this one, or the previous four I lost. I will try again, soon.

Tapping my fingers

I am waiting. Waiting is killing me. I'm not good at it. I'm impatient. At least I finally had my period, so now I am waiting for that lovely ovulation to happen. Until then, I'm back to the FF chart, and doing OPKs every day. And when I'm done waiting for the ovulation, I have to wait another ten days until they do the hysteroscopy. Which sounds uncomfortable, and a little scary. It only has a .5% risk of complications, but with my luck, I will be the .5%. But we need to do it. I didn't get any test results back yet, and since it'[s been twenty days I'm going to start bugging my doctor's office. I want something. Some bait while I wait. Ahhhhhrgggg!
On another note, I have realized I'm not healed from the miscarriages. I thought I had already mourned them. But nope. Last weekend my mom shot me the news that my cousin and his wife are having a baby in May. It was harsh. I started crying, hysterically. I wasn't crying because of the baby they are going to have, of course, I'm actually happy for them. I was crying for the babies I will never have, the three I already lost. And for the uncertainty about the future. I was crying because I ain't going to have no baby. So now, three people very dear to me are going to have babies around the times of the three due dates that could have been. Thanks nature, babies emanate happiness.

We have a plan

I finally got to see the fancy specialist at University of Chicago, Dr Stephenson, on Thursday. She was personable, respectful, and kind. And very very very proactive, which is all I want now. The first thing that called her attention is my thyroid. She didn't like the fact that has been at 3.5 for a while. I didn't like it either, but my regular OB didn't care about it. That on its own could have caused the miscarriages. But, to be sure, she took 16 vials of my blood (yes, sixteen, and I hadn't even had breakfast, so imagine...) and she is going to test for various things. She also wants to do a hysteroscopy and a biopsy of my uterine lining. That will happen between 9 and 11 days after my next LH surge. I haven't even had my period yet, so I guess it will be at the end of October. It's a little invasive, and given my history with tachycardia she needs to give me some extra drugs to keep my heart at a safe rate. I hate that I cannot control when will it happen. And I have to do OPKs again. I'm cooking garbanzo beans tonight, and I will drink their broth. At least when I was young in Spain, we were told that that causes you period to come. I'm sure it was all the placebo effect, but I will try it anyway, it may work. Once they do the biopsy, the lining is sent to a lab in Yale, to be analyzed by the only guy in the States who does this kind of high tech test. And we'll go from there. She also told me that I have to quit smoking (I know, and I did quit before trying the three times), but since she said I need to be clear of nicotine for one month before trying, and that is not going to happen in the next two months, I think I will give myself an extension. I'm rather anxious, and a cigarette a day helps cope with that. Plus, I am back (sort of) in the club scene, so I will take it easy for some weeks.
I hate having to wait so long. I want a baby, and I want that baby now. As I said before, I want to go to sleep and wake up nine months later with a baby on my pillow.
I liked the doctor because she was the first one to pay any attention to my Fertility Friend charts, that I have been retrieving for a year. I liked her because she actually paid attention to me. She even asked what was my theory about what's going on, and she seemed to agree with me, or at least take my gut feelings into account. And considering that these are matters of the gut, I find that very important. I felt respected. I felt understood. She didn't try to minimize my losses. She didn't say, "It's fine". Because it's not. And she knows it. Now I know hope.

Update

I have my first appointment with Dr S on September 24th. They are fully booked until then. I don't know if that means that they are good or that uteruses are evolving to a less functional stage. At least we are moving. Slowly. But I feel more active than before. I'm still devastated, but I'm coming to terms with what has happened. My abdomen hurts, my back hurts, my whole body hurts, but none of those pains is comparable to the one my heart bears. I have lost three babies. And my biggest fear now is that I may forget about the one who is sleeping in his crib right now. That I make him feel like he is not enough. I hope I am able to avoid that. Because I only want for him o have someone to play with, someone with whom he can share his experiences, his life. All those laughs and giggles, all that love that he is generous enough to share with us. He is the love of my live. I just want a little polygamy.

And the doctor had bad news.

Progesterone= 9
hCG=44

Which means that hCG hasn't doubled. Which means that I am going to miscarriage sometime in the next couple of weeks. And this journey just keeps getting worse. I had my hopes up because my Fertility Friend chart looked wonderful. But nope, my doc said today. "I'm afraid I don't have good news". And at that very moment time stopped, and I started to cry. It was loud, very loud, so much that my toddler got scared, came to me, stroke my face and said : "Ya'ta, ya'ta" (translated from Spanish toddlerese: "Don't worry, it's over". Which is what I tell him when he gets hurt.
Then I went to the Internet. I have secondary recurrent pregnancy loss. At least, now it has a name. Next steps:
1. Primal screaming a little bit more
2. Calling my therapist. I need her big time.
3. Having more blood drawn tomorrow.
4. Talking to my OB on Saturday about the results.
5. Making an appointment at a clinic specialized in RPL at the University of Chicago
6. Waiting. An awful wait. At least this time I may have time to say goodbye.
I know I will keep a little bit of hope, hope for that infinitesimal chance of keeping this baby that my doctor didn't want me to believe in. But I can't help it.