Gideon would 6 months

It is 6 months since my little boy was born. 6 months since I first laid eyes on his beautiful face. 6 months since I was the happiest person alive.

Gideon

Those six months have gone both excruciatingly slowly and frighteningly fast. It feels as if it couldn’t possibly be 6 months since my son was born, yet it feels like it happened the longest time ago – in another lifetime. I live in both extremes.

I am a woman grieving, a mummy without her son to hold, someone desperately trying to conceive again, to rekindle the feeling of hope that I seem to have lost. I conversely live a life without children, with all the emotions of a mother.

And every day my heart both breaks a little more with the pain of missing my boy, and mends a little bit, as time is indeed a great healer.

Today my Gideon would be 6 months old. Except he’s not. I’ll never know what he looks like at 6 months, I’ll simply never get to find that out.

By some amazing chance, Face of loss, Faces of Hope,  a site dedicated to telling the stories of baby loss mother’s everywhere, published my story today, on Gideon’s 6 month birthday. If you would like to read my story, which starts from me finding out I was pregnant and tells the story of Gideon’s life and death then you can read it here

Faces of Loss: Gideon’s Story

Advertisements

No pregnancy for me

Once again, another month where I don’t even need to test. My temps are dropping already, just like last month at this time, they are near coverline. I will probably test on a cheapie tomorrow and then stop my progesterone, no point in carrying on to prolong the inevitable.

I’m also upping my metformin dose tomorrow; two 500mg tablets a day, one in the morning, one in the evening.

So far I’ve not lost any weight, but nor have I gained any weight.

My side effect have been:

Diarrheah

Exhaustion

Fuzzy mind

Strange tastes and smells

The diarrheah is OK now, as long as I eat a healthy diet. I know about if I eat high carb or high fat diet. Like last night we made home made burger, on home made multi grain buns, with home-made onion rings. Unfortunately the onion rings WERE fried, and don’t I know it today! All homemade though!!

We  do make the best no-knead, multi grain loaf. It has white flour, rye flour, wholemeal flour and malthouse flours, which contain things like oats and some seeds. I adapted it from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes . The best bread making book ever. No kneading, and it makes wonderful “lower” Gi pizza, that is SO tasty. Not sure how low GI it though, it does have 2 cups of plain white flour and 2 cups of white self raising flour to 1 cup wholemean, 1 cup rye and 1/2 cup malthouse.

You could add less white flour, but it tends to be less light and fluffy the more wholemeal you add to it. I know the added multi grains make it lower GI.

But it is very nice.

We are having a lovely Indian Summer here too, 23 degrees C!! It’s hotter than summer.

 

 

Accidental Soy Poisoning

You know those moments of dawning, where suddenly everything makes sense?

I had a dawning moment last night, while taking all my supplements. I realised (after taking them) that my vitamin e is made from soy! I have PCOS, soy and PCOS are not a good combination due to the phytoestrogens. I started taking these last cycle, it’s no wonder my PCOS symptoms have been so bad. The weight gain, hair loss, excess hair (not on my head sadly) erratic temperatures, problem ovulating, pain in ovaries, sugar cravings. It’s all from that soy.

And to add insult to injury (or estrogens to estrogens) I’ve been eating flaxseed, which is also phytoestrogenic, and for someone like me who is oestrogen dominant, that’s just bad news. So I’ve stopped taking my invisible soy and hope that a healthy diet combined with my metformin (which I am slowly getting used to) will result in a healthy pregnancy this year. Metformin does seem to have stablalized my temperatures, even if it’s taking me a while to get used to the side effects. I’m not losing weight on it yet, but maybe when I stop taking my vitamin e.

Hopefully, I will ovulate strongly next month and get a nice, healthy egg fertilized. Well, we can only hope.

The Silence of Grief

I have just heard some devastating news about a woman from the July due date forums, where I received so much support before, during and after losing my Gideon. This woman has just lost her son to SIDS.

To her I send my thoughts and prayers. Finding any words to write to her was impossibly hard. Grief is so often silent, I know from experience that words are frequently meaningless in the face of such devastating grief. It is not the words that you read when people send their condolences, it is the acknowledgement that they care, and heard your silent cries. The words themselves can often seem convoluted, forced, even inappropriate at times, but the words themselves don’t matter; it’s that someone, be it family, a friend or even a stranger, comes out and shows they care, shows they understand that you are hurting, shows that despite their own fears, disquiet and sometimes embarrassment at your stark grief, they care enough to try.

Grief is silent; grief is personal. Even crying is not the sound of grief. Crying is the sound that comes out your mouth when you try and express it. Grief is that hollow, painful place in your stomach that aches with loss and sadness, grief is that hopeless hole in your mind that says you can never hold your child again. Grief is silent.

So, although my words cannot make this family feel better. I say to her “I’m so deeply sorry,” because what I really mean is…I feel with you. Our grief is not the same, I do not know you pain, but I feel it with you. I care.

And my silent prayers for her silent grief, I hope lets her know, her little boy is never forgotten, her pain is not forgotten.

What a lovely scan

Has an ultrasound of my ovaries today. It was just lovely. Lying there staring at the light fitting on the ceiling while the internal scan probe is…probed inside of me. I never noticed it much when I last had one because I was pregnant and seeing my Gideon for the first time.

This time, as I lay there I couldn’t help but remember lying there, seeing my perfect little man for the first time. This time though there was no tiny baby with a little beating heart, there was only my ovaries. And she wouldn’t even let me see those.

But she spent a lot of time focusing on my right ovary, where I’ve  been having a lot of pain, she took a lot of pictures. I wont know what she saw until middle/late week she said.

I do think I ovulated, either CD16 or CD18, my temps have risen, although just barely, so I’m guessing my body did try but didn’t complete. I wonder if the egg got out, or was even mature enough to fertilize and implant?

My metformin is making me ill, giving me gastrointestinal upsets, even with diarrheah relief tablets, they don’t even help. I’m hoping the side effects start wearing off soon.

Can’t be doing with this all the time.

 

Hello Metformin

So, I’ve (reluctantly) started taking my metformin. Why? Because I’ve stopped ovulating. Yep,  my fears are realized, my ovaries have packed up and gone on holiday with a vague promise to return at some undefined date. So I’ve hired metformin as a bounty hunter to bring them right back. Ha, take that ovaries!

I have my scan on Friday, I’m almost certain I have a few cysts on the right, due to the constant gnawing ache that reminds me, not only am I indeed human, but I am also riddled with health problems. I’m taking bets, I think I have 6 cysts, but I don’t know whether they will count or not. I’m not sure about my left ovary, he seems to have remained quiet since long before I got pregnant. Perhaps instead of constantly screaming “I’m working hard, I’m doing my best” every single month, maybe, just maybe leftie is actually…you know, working, quietly. Or not as the case is this month.

I did get a nice positive OPK.

A "positive" OPK

Positive or not?

This one here screams “I am ovulating I promise” of course my digital OPK told the truth

Negative digital OPK

No, I'm not smiling for you

He said, “No, I refuse to smile at you,” and showed me a blank face. Despite this, I did try and remain optimistic and continue doing the fun dance. But I should have believed digi, he doesn’t lie. Today, I calmly accepted that 4 days on from the “positive” OPK, I was probably not going to see ovulation.

Instead I weakly hope that my period at least shows up on time so my body can try again next month, either that or my metformin will start to work and I will suddenly ovulate and get pregnant (insert rolling eyes here).

The worse thing about not ovulating, is that I seem to have constant PMS, even though it’s not PMS time. Which means a constant flare, and constant irritability (read screaming and shouting) although that could be attributed to my annoyance at my ovaries untimely vacation.

Hello, ovaries, don’t you realise how much I NEED to be pregnant? Get working!!

Standing on the edge of a cliff

How can you stand at the edge of cliff and not even realise it? This time last year we were doing just that, standing on the edge of a cliff, completely unaware we were about to fall. We were happily going about our lives, thinking there was no cliff at all.

How can you not even notice the cliff ahead?

We were like those cartoons I watched as a child, where the character walks off a cliff and don’t realise there’s no ground beneath them, so they carry on walking for a while until they look down and then they fall.

We carried on walking on air for a little while off our cliff, until we looked down and realised there was no ground at all.

And we fell, and for a little while longer we survived by hanging onto a rock, jutting out of the cliff face, but when that gave way we plummeted to the ground below.

Are we standing at a cliff edge now? Are we standing and not knowing it? We know that to get to the other side we must pass over somehow; we pray for a good strong bridge, we hope it doesn’t break. We pray there is a bridge there at all, and we don’t simply stand like idiots on the cliff edge, watching the far off and ever elusive other side in the distance. But if we do take that leap of faith, hoping for a bridge, hoping it isn’t a cliff edge at all, just a small hill, then that bridge may break, we may tread air for a little while, but eventually we’ll fall.

Except this time, if the bridge fails, I’m not looking down; I might even make it all the way, if I don’t look down.  You always wondered in those cartoons if the character could have made it by not looking down. Can I walk onwards on faith alone?

It’s an awfully long walk. So here’s hoping for a bridge.