The Brooks Trio - Part II

You might remember Part I written three years ago...

A lot has happened in three years. The three years since we decided not to have another baby.

Jacob got a new job - an apprenticeship in a trade that he enjoys and has much more financial stability than any of his previous jobs.

I transferred to a position much closer to home and reduced my hours slightly (as a choice this time - not a need because of health issues.)

We moved and our new home is much bigger. We love it here and plan to stay for a good while.

Almost all of my previous health issues were alleviated after a lucky find that led to corrective heart surgery.

We are in a place we had only ever dreamed we could be and after several discussions, Jacob and I decided to try for a second baby. 

Because of Jacob's vasectomy, we had to look into other means of achieving this than just happily jumping around in the sack. We discussed a vasectomy reversal, IVF, adoption, surrogacy and many other different things. We went to our GP who was very supportive and referred us to a fertility clinic. We both had preliminary testing done to look at our fertility and general health. After a few appointments and results we decided that IVF was our best chance and most affordable for us. We also didn't want to get caught up in it all so we decided to give it just one go - if it was meant to be, it would be. For those that don't know IVF, there are several parts to the process and we planned to do only one round of egg retrieval / sperm aspiration. We didn't know how many embryos we would end up with - If we had 5 embryos from that process that meant we had 5 shots at falling pregnant and carrying a baby to term.

After the fortnight of different drugs to make my body do it's baby making thing we had a scan which showed 9 follicles.

At our egg collection 2 days later, 7 eggs successfully retrieved.

On the same day, the aspirated sperm and eggs were put together by the lovely scientists at the fertility center, 4 of them successfully fertilised.

Those 4 were given 5 days to mature. 

Only 1 of them made it to what is called the blastocyst stage. And so, on that day, our one shot, out little embaby was transferred to my uterus.

Then came the long 2 week wait to find out if the pregnancy had been successful. Of course my impatience wouldn't allow that and I became the master of peeing on a stick. From day 7 post transfer, we had a clear second line on those tests that only got stronger as each day passed. As with Charli, I became queasy very early as that hormone started raging through my body. I spewed up my lunch 3 days in a row. I started to get hopeful. Up to this point, I had tried not to allow myself to think on it too much. I had planned for the 'if' because I'm a planner, can't help it. But only an if. That if turned very quickly into a when.

Then on day 10 I started spotting. Day 11 I didn't vomit, I just felt nauseos. I stopped spotting and started bleeding. I've been bleeding ever since. I knew. I knew the pregnancy had been a success. I knew that success had taken a nose dive. But despite all of the raging emotions, body changes and common sense that pointed to the obvious, I allowed myself to cling onto hope. 4 days after the bleeding began I had my 2 week post transfer blood test which confirmed - I was pregnant.

I honestly feel a little sorry for the poor dove who rang me with my results. The conversation went something like this:

"I'm just calling to share your test results with you - congratulations, you are pregnant!"

"Really?"

"Oh, um yes, clear positive!"

"Okay, that's great but I think maybe we need to do another test in a couple of days or something because I have been bleeding - a lot. I really didn't expect a positive result."

"Oh! Okay, sure I will have Amanda call you tomorrow to organise a follow-up test. Don't stress, a lot of people have implantation bleeding!"

I spent the next 4 days home extremely unwell with Rhinovirus (confirmed by a Covid swab) I haven't been sick with a cold for this long in forever. My body was obviously fighting to keep chugging along. The bleeding continued and got worse over those 4 days 

I had my follow up blood test done this morning and this time nurse Rowena was burdened with being my messenger:

"We are just letting you know that your follow up test has come back positive but your HCG has dropped which means the pregnancy is failing. I'm sorry but please be reassured by the fact that your body was successful in falling pregnant and any number of things could have caused it to fail."

"That's okay, we figured that would be the outcome, thank you"

Rowena was trying to be nice when she told me I could at least have a wine tonight.

Over the past week I've prepared myself and Jacob for this. We've talked about all the positives to the disappointing news we had resigned was coming our way. Trying to make it okay. We discussed the fact Charli would be able to be our sole concentration. Big holidays would be taken sooner and with ease. 

We both picked a thing. A thing that we would positively focus on if our news today was bad. A thing we wouldn't freely be doing if Brooks Baby 2 was indeed on the way. 

Preparation of the mind did jack shit for my heart, which had still held onto the smallest shred of hope. I'm much more upset that I had anticipated, and as usual I'm trying to channel those feelings out by writing about them.

We are okay, I mean this wasn't part of our plan until 10 months ago when it became an idea. It only became a real possibility when the actual decision to try was made together only 2 months ago. 

But I'm sad. Sad that I won't get to enjoy another little being that is us. Sad that Charli will never have a sibling. Sad that Jacob wanted to be a Dad again and won't get to be. I'm sad I didn't get to share a birth with my big sister as I had planned to.

I'm angry. Angry at the GP who asked Charli if she would like a little brother or sister. Angry at the urologist that confidently told Jacob we would be pregnant in the next 6 weeks. Angry at my body for not continuing to do what it should.

I'm relieved. Relieved that we have our beautiful life, our beautiful daughter and that nothing is going to change that.

I'm happy. Happy that I can continue to (discreetly) spoil my favourite human and love her without distraction, without any other obligations.

And so, we go back to "normal". We go back to loving our little girl with everything we have and enjoying life as our little trio.

Our birth control decision way back when and our IVF attempt now were a choice we were lucky enough to be able to make ourselves. All of the people out there struggling to have even one child through no fault of their own - I can't even begin to tell you how brave and strong these people are. I went through a small portion of the drugs that can be needed for fertility issues and they were brutal. There comes a point where stabbing yourself in the stomach with multiple needles each day around bruising and symptoms from those same drugs gets mentally and emotionally exhausting. It is physically exhausting - some of the tests and procedures are invasive and painful. And then there is the bravest, strongest part of all - the hoping, waiting, the being shattered and doing it all again anyway. I am so glad we are not doing it all again. And so, I'm sending all of my would-be baby dust to someone who is still out there waiting. 

Bribery & A Healthy Little Heart

Today had the potential to be a very shitty day.

As you all know my ticker needed fixing last year, courtesy of a Congenital Heart Defect (CHD).

Not long after my surgery, Jacob’s mother was also diagnosed with a CHD that will eventually need to be corrected with surgery.

My first thought, of course, was Charli. With heart issues now stemming from both sides of her family, the potential for her to have heart problems was that much higher. Cue Mum mode. I immediately got a referral from our GP to see a paediatric cardiologist and on the 23^rd of July last year, the day before she turned 3, Charli was having an echocardiogram.

She was an absolute champ. At that point, after being in & out of hospital for her lungs for the better part of her life, I think she was just used to following instructions in that kind of setting; staying still when she was told, breathing how she was told, moving this way and that.

The Cardiologist (Michael, for future reference) also had fabulous bedside manner, which is always helpful. Michael and Charli discussed what Charli would watch on the computer screen while the scan was being done. After a definite & confident “My Little Pony, please”, Charli lay still for around half an hour, blissfully unaware of how scary this actually was, as she watched Twilight Sparkle & her friends traipse around Ponyville.

Old Michael was onto me, he could probably see the potential meltdown headed his way. So, he first checked for an ASD (my defect) & stopped to tell me that Charli didn’t have any sign of the same. I almost crumpled with relief until I realised there was obviously other problems she could have, but was thankful again when he stopped to share that Charli has a “perfect Mercedes Benz” meaning her tricuspid valve was just as it should be (Jacob’s mother’s defect is a bicuspid valve).

Suddenly, I was wiping blue jelly off Charli’s chest & putting her shirt back on, pleased as punch that things had gone so well. That is, until I turned back to Michaels desk to see him drawing a heart on some paper. My own sank & I fought off a wave of nausea as I sat down with an oblivious Charli on my lap & waited for the hit that was surely coming.

Michael explained that there was a small part of the wall in Charli’s heart that was thicker than it should be – extra tissue that had the potential to cause major issues with structure and blood flow. He also noted that because Charli was only turning 3 the next day that the issue could very possibly resolve itself. So, we would have to come back each year for a check-up.

Fast forward to March this year, a global pandemic has hit our shores and the numbers are going up, up, up. I have heart and lung issues. Charli has heart and lung issues. So, I locked us up. Apart from out doctors trip last Friday, we hadn’t been out in public until yesterday, 44 days after we decided to self-isolate. We are due to go back to day care and work over the coming couple of weeks & although things are looking good, I needed to be sure Charli was going to be as safe as she possibly could be. So I wanted to make sure her heart hadn’t gotten any worse before releasing her back into the wild…

On Friday Charli had her flu vaccine. It was a shitshow. Rewind to early March when Charli was in hospital with a random virus & the doctor happened to find a foreign object in her ear. Even that night when she was so sick with fever, she was so good for the nurses & doctors. Enter the ENT specialist from hell, who forcibly removed the object from Charli’s ear while she screamed so loudly that multiple other staff came into the room to see what the hell was going on. “Oh dear” was all she had to say about the amount of blood that was left in the aftermath & still flowing from Charli’s ear as she ushered us out of the clinic room. Charli hasn’t let me near her ears since & I hoped it was just going to be an ear thing. But no, it has extended to anything medical & Friday she smacked away our GP’s hand as she tried to get Charli’s temperature. Not to mention the joy of getting the vaccine itself – screaming & kicking were involved.

So we knew heading to the Cardiologist was going to be just delightful. Jake cancelled an appointment of his own to come with us as we realised even mentioning the doctor brought on either outright bawling, panic or complete shut-off from Charli. We tried to make it better, practicing at home with body lotion and one of Charli’s play doctors tools, explaining that it was just taking pictures, that it wouldn’t hurt. We even got her practice on me. We BRIBED THE SHIT out of our kid. I’m not one for bribes but I spent a ridiculous amount of money on Pokemon toys. We bought them with her and then told her we would take them back to the store if she didn’t do the right thing at the doctors. We are the worst. But it helped. Michael & his extraordinarily adaptable approach was key though, he let her look at & touch all of the medical tools & jelly before he even tried to start the scan. She finally let him start scanning, much to our relief – not only that she wasn’t screaming but that a clear scan meant a clear path forward. It was over much quicker than the original scan (thank god).

For 10 months I’ve been keeping the possibility that Charli’s heart could need corrective surgery in the back of my mind. It was so easy to potentially plan the logistics in my head. Making sure there was leave to care for her, money to cover the medical bills, yadda-yadda. I didn’t linger on the gut-churning thought of Char having to experience such an invasive surgery, not to mention such a long road to recovery because it would be the absolute worst part. So when we sat down with Michael after the scan, I was braced for it. Michael got straight to it, enthusiastically explaining that as Char has grown in the past 10 months, the extra tissue has resolved itself. It is completely gone. There is nothing structurally wrong with her heart.

To my credit, I didn’t cry until we were driving home. That background baggage had been weighing heavier than I’d known & I cannot describe the relief. Post appointment, Char got her Babyccino, with four marshmallows. She got a plush Pikachu, a Pokeball Belt with Pokeballs & figurines. I tossed a book into the mix too. BRIBERY. When it’s okay, it’s okay.