Squish Two

As a mother I know I put my own health concerns last. Often I will ignore the pain or the ache that doesn't feel just right when it is my own body. I make sure Sidney attends his well child check-ups on schedule, has all of his vaccines at the appropriate times; essentially I do everything I can to make sure he is healthy. Glenn is a harder nut to crack. The man is adverse to doctors and medicine and feels that "drinking a glass of water" is the cure for all that ails us. But because he is active duty military and is required to endure a flight physical once a year, I feel better knowing that a doctor will check him out on an annual basis. As for myself, I have noticed my own share of increased aches, pains, and things that just don't feel right in recent years and have been making a concerted effort to visit the doctor when something feels wrong with my body. But it is equally as important to not wait until something is obviously wrong before going to the doctor. As we all know, preventive health care is the key to staying healthy. And as a woman of a certain age, part of that preventive health care includes regular mammograms.

No one says they are fun. As anyone who has stood in a cold room and had their naked breast manipulated and squished between an even colder press can tell you, mammograms can be down right uncomfortable. But not enduring those brief moments of discomfort can bring about even longer lasting, and often preventable pain and suffering. According to the Centers for Disease Control, breast cancer is the second most common cancer amongst women in the United States with 211,731women being diagnosed and close to 41,000 women dying from the cancer in 2009 alone. This translates into roughly one in eight American women receiving a breast cancer diagnosis at some point in their lives. (Take a look around the room and see exactly what one in eight looks like). Family history is a strong indicator of being more susceptible to being diagnosed with breast cancer but 85% of breast cancer diagnoses occur in women without a family history of the disease. But the statistics are not all grim.  The earlier cancer is detected the greater the survival rates. There are approximately 2.6 million breast cancer survivors in the United States alone. The easiest way to detect early breast cancer is through a mammogram. And thanks to increased breast cancer awareness campaigns and increased access to affordable health care, just over 61% of American women have had a mammogram. We still have a long way to go but each procedure is a step, or squish, in the right direction.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month so if you are a woman, now is as good of a time as any to have your exam. Exams are covered by most health insurance plans and many communities sponsor free breast exam clinics during this month in order to make preventive health care more accessible to everyone. I've had my exam for the year and I will continue to do self exams every month until my next mammogram.  I challenge all of my woman friends to do the same.  And for my male friends, please encourage the women in your life to do it as well. Its a squish that could save a very important life.

You Are Not Alone: National Infertility Awareness Week

Today we are wrapping up the 25th anniversary of National Infertility Awareness Week. A lot has changed in the past 25 years with advances in science, technology, and social awareness making it possible for millions of people to become parents. And each year brings about new medical advancements. Procedures that weren't possible just a few years ago are now common place. But as is the case with all things medical, these infertility comes with a steep price tag both physically and emotionally. Weeks like this help increase education and raise general awareness on the issue that eases some, but not all, of the emotional pain associated with this disease. (Knowing you are not alone is an amazing feeling). And, thanks to raised awareness, health insurance plans are increasingly covering the costs of infertility treatments, thus easing the financial burden associated with prolonged testing and treatments.

As many of my friends know, this is a subject that is near and dear to my heart and incredibly personal. I suffer from infertility as do too many of my friends. But thanks to advancing medical technology, I am now a mother. My journey wasn't easy; it was long, painful, expensive and lonely, but these costs were worth it because in the end I was rewarded with a baby. Not everyone is so fortunate. So in honor of this week, I'm reposting my story. I've shared it before but because education is so important, I'm sharing it again:

According to the Center for Disease Control, an estimated 6.1 million women in the United States between the age of 15 and 44 have difficulty conceiving and staying pregnant on their own. I am one of those women.  Today, thanks to my amazing doctor at the Beach Center for Infertility, I am fortunate to have an active, healthy 4 1/2 year old. Because this week recognizes the struggle that the 6.1 million of us endure, I am sharing my own deeply personal story.

Before Sidney was born,  I spent several years unsure as to whether I would ever become a mother. Like many women my age, I spent my 20s trying not to become pregnant but once I was in my 30s and married, the time seemed right. Or so my mind thought but my body did not agree. While so many of my friends and neighbors had their first, second, and even third children, Glenn and I weren't so fortunate. We were hopeful and tried to remain positive but as each month was met with another crushing disappointment our hope began to fade.

At this time we were living in Norfolk, VA which ironically enough, happened to be a hotbed for cutting edge reproductive medicine. (I didn't realize that in vitro fertilization was pioneered at Norfolk's own Jones Institute). After a series of miscarriages, my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist. Dr. Flood was warm, welcoming, and supportive and together Glenn and I set about a course of action to overcome the "unexplained" infertility obstacle that stood between us and our much wanted baby. Over the next 18 months I underwent two surgical procedures, had more blood work drawn and spent more time in doctor's waiting rooms than any person should ever have to endure. I overcame my fear of needles and became an expert at self injecting hormones several times a day. I also became an emotionally charged wreck. Probably much to Glenn's relief, he spent a good portion of this time period out at sea and wasn't home to suffer the emotional mood swings that became a daily part of my life. Just a few months into this process my body began to feel like a pin cushion that had been invaded by an alien yet there still wasn't any baby.

Everyone deals with infertility in their own way. Some people talk about their experiences openly while others endure the pain privately. To a great extent, I chose the later. Our families and a few close friends were generally aware of what we were going through but for the most part, we didn't talk about it. Unless you have experienced the infertility roller coaster, you truly can't understand what it is like. It is also a deeply personal subject that more tactful people are often uncomfortable discussing.

During this dark period the comments I did hear ran the gamete form positive to negative and just plain strange. More supportive friends assured us that we would become parents while a particularly callous former friend informed me that God obviously didn't think we would be suitable parents so he was preventing it from happening. Upon hearing this, I was actually speechless for one of the few times in my life. In what I hope was meant to be a supportive comment, my in-laws even told me that they would be able to accept any child we might adopt as a real grandchild. In social situations with people we only casually knew the inevitable question was when were we going to having children. After a time I started bracing myself for these inquiries by having a slew of ready to respond quips in mind. During this time I was an overly hormonal woman so many of these comments did not sit too well with me.

Instead of reacting to this array of comments, I withdrew into myself. I sent generous gifts to baby showers but couldn't bring myself to attend. I spent hours scouring the Internet searching to possible answers. I convinced myself that if we just kept trying it would work. I continued to change my diet, exercised more, lost weight, and spent numerous sessions in acupuncture all in hopes of making my treatments work. I was convinced that the third time would be the charm but as the third assisted try turned into the fourth, fifth, and even sixth attempt my body continued to fail me. Through daily emails and the occasional long distance phone call, Glenn and I discussed how much longer we should try. After all, this whole experience was taking a physical, emotional, and financial toll on both of us.

As I waited for Glenn's return from deployment, I covertly began to explore the option of adoption. We were open to the idea but decided to give our current routine one more go before moving on. Good things can come to those who wait because upon Glenn's return, we started a final round of injections, blood work, and anxiety riddled waiting. This time luck was on our side and IVF worked its magic. We were pregnant. It is impossible to describe the sense of elation I felt that hot June day as I sat in my car in the parking garage talking to Jessica from Dr. Flood's office. (This was the only place I was guaranteed some small amount of privacy and I had been steeling myself for making what turned out to be the most pivotal phone call of my life).

All 2 pounds 12 ounces of my miracle baby then

All of this brings me to where I am today. My heart continues to ache for those women whose desires to become mothers go unfulfilled.  I have felt both your physical and emotional pain. I know I am one of the lucky ones. Because of this experience, I will never take anything for granted again. In a perfect world we would all be able to readily have the babies we want when we want them. In lieu of this perfect world I wish for understanding, compassion, and continued medical advances in the field of women's health and reproductive medicine. In the meantime time I hug Sidney tightly each night and silently thank everyone who helped make his existence possible.

And my goofy little boy today

Squish

As a mother I know I put my own health concerns last.  Often I will ignore the pain or the ache that doesn't feel just right when it is my own body.  I make sure Sidney attends his well child check-ups on schedule, has all of his vaccines as the appropriate times, and I do everything I can to make sure he is healthy.  Glenn is a harder nut to crack.  The man is adverse to doctors and medicine and feels that "drinking a glass of water" is the cure for all that ails us.  Because he is active duty military and is required to endure a flight physical once a year, I feel better knowing that a doctor will check him out on an annual basis.  As for myself, I have noticed my own share of increased aches, pains, and things that just don't feel right in recent years and have been making a concerted effort to visit the doctor when something feels wrong with my body.  But it is equally as important to not wait until something is obviously wrong before going to the doctor.  As we all know, preventive health care is the key to staying healthy.  And as a woman of a certain age, part of that preventive health care includes annual mammograms.

No one says they are fun.  As anyone who has stood in a cold room and had their naked breast manipulated and squished between an even colder press can tell you, mammograms can be down right uncomfortable.  But not enduring those brief moments of discomfort can bring about even longer lasting, and often preventable pain and suffering.  According to the Centers for Disease Control, breast cancer is the second most common cancer amongst women in the United States with 211,731women being diagnosed and close to 41,000 women dying from the cancer in 2009 alone. This translates into roughly one in eight American women receiving a breast cancer diagnosis at some point in their lives.  (Take a look around the room and see exactly what one in eight looks like).  Family history is a strong indicator of being more susceptible to being diagnosed with breast cancer but 85% of breast cancer diagnoses occur in women without a family history of the disease.  But the statistics are not all grim.  The earlier cancer is detected the greater the survival rates.  There are approximately 2.6 million breast cancer survivors in the United States alone.  The easiest way to detect early breast cancer is through a mammogram.  And thanks to increased breast cancer awareness campaigns and increased access to affordable health care, just over 61% of American women have had a mammogram.  We still have a long way to go but each procedure is a step, or squish, in the right direction.

October may be Breast Cancer Awareness Month but that doesn't mean you have to wait another eight months to get checked out. Do it now.  I've had my exam for the year and I will continue to do self exams every month until my next mammogram.  I challenge all of my woman friends to do the same.  For my male friends, encourage the women in your life to do it as well.

My Body Is Broken

Subconsciously I knew what was happening from the first moment those gut splitting pains shot through my abdomen.  I lay on the cold bathroom floor in the middle of the night thinking it was all a nightmare and it was.  I told myself it couldn't be happening since after all, I neither realized I was pregnant nor thought I could become so without medical intervention.  In reality, since this wasn't my first or even second miscarriage, I knew exactly what was happening to my body.  Some days is just plain sucks to be a woman and that day was certainly one of them.

I'm not sharing this unpleasant experience because I want sympathy or pity.  Rather, I want other women who suffer through miscarriages to know that they aren't alone. According to the American Pregnancy Association, of the approximately 6 million pregnancies that occur in the United States each year, 69,600 or around 12% end in a miscarriage.  When you factor in advanced maternal age and a history of previous miscarriages--factors that unfortunately affect me-- the chances of having an unsuccessful pregnancy increase.   This definitely doesn't make me feel any better about my circumstances but knowing these facts now, something I was unaware of the first time around,  does make me feel less alone.

I suffered my first miscarriage shortly after Glenn and I had excitedly announced my pregnancy to our families and close friends.  We had been married for less than a year but given our age, had decided to immediately start our family.  We had been so excited to learn that we were expecting and had already begun to make plans for our new arrival.  Good friends had gifted us with a few small baby items that I was eager to use.  Up until this point my biggest medical issue had been having my wisdom teeth taken out while I was in high school so I thought I was healthy and had every reason to believe that I was experiencing a normal pregnancy.  And then I received the devastating news from my doctor that the fetus was not developing normally and my body would soon begin to miscarry.

I remember laying on the couch in our living room for over a week vacillating between tears of physical pain and tears of emotional agony.  No one could ever have prepared me for how difficult this experience would be.  I felt alone, angry, and ashamed that perhaps I had done something wrong and had directly caused this to happen.  I tried to remember when I had drank my last glass of wine and I ruefully recalled stopping by Pet Smart, on my way to my check up, to purchase a 50 pound bag of dog food.  Eschewing the assistance of the eager clerk I had hoisted the heavy bag into the back of my SUV.  Logic would dictate that this had not caused my miscarriage but in my confused and saddened state I sought out any explanation regardless of how unfeasible it might be.  I was hesitant to share what was happening with anyone, but having already announced the pregnancy I had no choice.  Reactions were mostly sympathetic but one so called friend told me that I must have done something to cause this to happen since things like this just didn't happen to good people.  While I had been wondering the very same thing to myself, hearing the words spoken aloud ripped open the wound again.  I stifled back my shock, pain, and tears and vowed not to talk to anyone else about this.  (A year later when this very same friend had her own miscarriage I quietly dropped of a care basket filled with homemade goodies and pampering items on her doorstep.  She never knew who gave it to her and while I knew there was no way that these items would heal her wound I also knew that she deserved kindness and caring during this tragic time).  After I week of self pity, I picked myself up, packed away our precious baby items, and tried to carry on.  But gone for good was that carefree assurance that we would easily have our family.  My perspective on life had changed forever.

Earlier this week as I lay on the exam table at the --- only in Albania--- named Petal Gynecological Clinic looking at the enlarged ultra sound image showing my now empty uterus, I reminded myself how lucky I really am.   I am already the mother to a happy and healthy three year old. This is so much more than millions of women can say.  I have a loving and supportive husband who has been by my side, both physically and emotionally through all of this.  I have access to quality health care (although I wondered how true this was at that exact moment since this particular clinic seemed to lack heat), and I knew that physically I would once again come out of this situation in one piece.  I told myself that this time, since I hadn't even know I was pregnant, I hadn't had the time to bond with my unborn child.  That should make things easier, right?  Perhaps I am jaded but despite the language barrier between myself and the doctor I told myself that this time wasn't going to be as bad as it had been in the past.

Maybe my experiences have hardened me. Rather than wallowing in my pain and self-pity I immediately picked myself up and carried on as normal this past week. I popped some extra strength ibuprofen, went to work, socialized with friends, and hosted two dinners in our home.  I've spent time with Sidney each evening and given him an extra hug and kiss each night.  Tomorrow I will attend a baby shower for dear friends and rejoice in their health, happiness, and good fortune.  As has been the case with each of my losses, I will mourn them and never forget them but continue to appreciate what I do have.  That is all I can do.  The wonderful thing about life is that it carries on.  It isn't always easy but our experiences only make us stronger.