I’ve held off on writing because I’m still trying to process the follow-up visit last Wednesday. But I realize that if I wait until I can process or fully understand everything, I’ll probably be waiting a very long time.
My tears started when we got there. And by there, I mean across the street. Double A’s favorite joke these days when I break down in a public place is that people are going to think he’s the a*shole who is breaking up with me, and he tried to use it here to make me laugh. I pulled myself together only to slightly lose it again walking off the elevator, and completely once we got to the waiting room…turning into convulsing sobs when the nurse came out.
“She’s here!” She’s here!” the other nurses whispered, running around. “Page him. She’s here.” If it were different circumstances, I would have felt like royalty. Only this time, I just felt appreciative of these caring women who knew how hard it was for us to be back in this spot.
I’m not going to lie to you, it SUCKED. And I wish I could tell you that we got some answers. That there were some a-ha moments which led to an explanation of what happened, or a clear path for any future endeavors. But there weren’t. While I had found this helpful list of questions you should ask during your follow-up appointment (thank you to Stirrup Queens), most of them didn’t apply to us. Our babies were perfectly healthy. My cervix was normal. There was nothing telling from the placentas. And since I’ve already gone through about every RPL test there is, there’s not really more to be said on this. Once again, we are left with no answers.
The doctor talked with us about a potential next time. Double A and I shuddered at the thought, yet wanted to hear our options. He said if we did find the resolve to try this again, that we should do everything we can to ensure a singleton pregnancy as there’s greater risks associated with multiples. That he would recommend doing so either via spontaneous conception (you know, like “normal” people do it) or IVF (which we’re not covered for). But if we did do IVF, that they should only place one embryo at a time, which may limit our chances, but it also somewhat protects us from multiples. IUIs with gonadatropins and even clomid are out.
He talked about if we did have the resolve to try this again (a phrase he kept using), and were successful in getting pregnant, what would or could be done differently. Bottom line: not much. We could look at doing progesterone shots and/or a cerclage, but neither of those solutions would have been of any help this last time around. And there are risks associated with the latter.
And then we had the birth control talk. You know, the same one from high school, only this time it was for a different kind of protective measure…emotional protection. There’s also the physical protection that it would provide too, as he said my body should continue to heal for at least 3 months. Speaking of physical, the actual exam showed that all is healing properly, and looking and feeling normal. Too bad the same could not be said for our heads (and the PTSD from being back in the hospital gown and on the exam table didn’t help either).
We spent an hour and fifteen minutes with the doctor, and came out with no more clarity than we had arrived. While I was expecting that this would be the case, there was a tiny part of me that hoped that he would have come across something, anything, that would explain why we lost our twins. I know we can’t turn back time, but having some sort of answers may provide some closure. But we have no answers and I’m not sure we’ll ever have closure.
As I said before, we have a lot to think about, and a lot to process, especially when it comes to what’s next for us. And while we don’t have to make any final decisions right now, we know we need to soon. Of the five years we’ve been married, 4-1/2 of them have been consumed by pregnancy, loss and the road to family. Enough is enough. But what’s enough when we don’t have we want?