So I went to the OB yesterday. My HcG levels went from 9 to 11. Um, yes that would be kind of the wrong direction. So my dear OB said there is of course room for error when we are down that low, so lets draw your blood again! Argh. I am human pin cushion. I'll know the new level on Monday. But at the very least I guess we can say the levels did nothing - they stalled.

And yes, to continue to update you in the world of things you never wanted to know about miscarriage and never thought to ask - it is normal to spot for 8-10 weeks after the miscarriage. Sometimes longer. The body is a twisted bitch and it could take a long time to get her straightened out again. My OB didn't actually say that, but I knew that was what he meant.

And as an aside, in my 15 years of gynecology patientdom, I have never ever seen a male gynecologist. EVER. (I am not counting the male OB/GYNs who did my amnios - that did not involve the female private parts.) I had a very strong preference to females - male gynecologists seemed icky - why? Why would they want to be that? I still don't know the answer to that, but I have to say I love my newfound male OB/GYN. Love him. He is so polite and shakes my hand. And he has that right amount of sorrow in his eyes when I tell him I am just tired and want it over. And he always brings his female nurse with him whenever there will be nakedness. I am trying not to have a mini-crush on him because that would be wrong, so very, very, very wrong. Right?

And the yeast infection that would not die? Um, yeah, bacteria infection. Blech. Aren't you glad you read this far?

But if I can't whine at my blog, where can I whine?

I am tired, so tired of my body being out of whack. As of last week my HcG levels were still not low enough for the miscarriage to be considered over or complete. They were 9, they must be below 2. So I continue to go to the lab for "pinch pinch" as my baby O calls it.

Yet somehow I managed to get my period back. I was so not prepared for the first period post miscarriage to be so heavy, heavy enough that you feel like you are miscarrying yet again. Lovely. Heavy enough that you have to drag your kids out of the Playmobil fun park because you have blood going down your leg. Yes, the kids were oh so happy to leave.

And then there is the beauty of the yeast infection that would not die.

And the spotting. I had my period. That should signal THE END of miscarriage. But no. And now there is just a creeping nugget of doubt that perhaps this really isn't normal, even though the nurse assures me it is within the realm of normal. Meaning it doesn't happen to most people, but it could still happen, and of course it is happening to me. I have no fever, I have no pain, just the spotting. That constant, constant reminder.

So I am going to the OB tomorrow.

A good friend was over today and she had had a miscarriage a few years ago with her first pregnancy. It was good to talk with her and know these feelings of being out of whack mentally and physically are normal, and that there is hope.

What would we do without friends?

Feels like to hell and back, but I am back. I had a little breakdown. I mentioned the anxiety I was having in regards to my PA trip a few weeks ago. Well the thought of something happening to me while my children were in my complete care while traveling overtook my mind. It grew into huge proportions. I was obsessed. I made myself sick. My leg started to hurt while in PA. I obsessed that I had a blood clot and I would die while traveling home. Hence how my children would be lost, roaming the Atlanta airport until abducted by some whacko. The bigger the fear grew in my mind, the worse the pain got. A small sane voice in my head was telling me I was crazy, this was all in my head. But it was all consuming.

I made it home in one piece. I waited a week before going to my doctor. I was testing myself to see how I really felt, would the anxiety leave my body and the crazy leg pain too? Yes. My leg didn't hurt anymore. But I kept the appointment. I told her what had happened. She was great and explained to me the actual physical effects of anxiety and how it really can make you physically ill. She recommended we try some drugs. I was for it. Anything to stop this worry! I hated that it had so ruined the visit with my family - at least on my end, I had tried to hide it as best I could from my parents. So she prescribed Paxil. That is when the true hell began.

One of the side effects of the drug is increased anxiety. Ironic no? It's supposed to cure my anxiety. I didn't think too much of it and took the pill Monday night before bed. At 4 AM I bolted upright in bed, wanting to tear my skin off in the middle of the worst throws of anxiety I have ever felt in my life. And not specific anxiety like I usually feel. Just a generalized sense of everything, everything being so wrong, so helpless. My eyes were open too wide and I was generally freaked the shit out.

The next morning I felt run over. Woozy and somewhat disoriented. I called my doctor and she said that yes that can be a side effect of the class of drugs, but that Paxil is known to have less of those effects and that is why she had chosen that one for me. She said the effects would go away in a few weeks (Oh my holy weeks!) and she could prescribe me Ativan in the meantime to take as needed to quell that anxiety. My mind was reeling. Here I was taking one drug that was supposed to help me, that was actually making me worse, so now I needed even another anti-depressant drug to quell the effects of the first drug!?! My mind said no. I knew there was no way I could ever voluntarily swallow another Paxil. Not after that night. So no drugs for me. Except Paxil has a life of 2-3 days in the body. All week I was shaky, not myself, foggy, consumed with what I can only call "brain freezes" or waves of panic. It took all my strength to function normally last week. I was better out of the house, moving, active. The pool was a lifesaver, only swimming did I feel free of the panic.

Finally, yesterday I felt like myself. I am so happy that evilness is out of my system. Don't misunderstand me, I don't feel that all AD drugs are evil, but this one did not mix well with me. I'd be willing to try another one in the future, I am disappointed the drugs did not work. I had thought that AD drugs were happy pills. I didn't understand the work that was needed to get the right happy pill. I've been reading story after story online of how many different drugs people had to try to find the right one, the horrible side effects. I just can not do it right now. I am not a danger to myself, I am not a danger to my children, I am not depressed, I am functioning, except for the PA incident. I'm going to step back now and see what I can do to zap this anxiety on my own. I feel better now, but I fear that the next time I have to travel it will all rear its head again. But I just can not do the drugs right now. I am still freaked out by it all.

My doctor suggested St. Johns Wort. So I'll try that. And I think I am going to try some homeopathic remedies too like Ignatia amara. I feel that grief is a trigger to me. When Liron died I lost it a bit then too, and I think the miscarriage and hormones have triggered this current round of anxiety. We'll see what happens.

I just have to say I have the world's most amazing husband. That is all.

I am back from my blogging hiatus/vacation. I know you were all really worried that I had actually tripped in the Atlanta airport and would never be heard from again. But no, we all survived, made it through 2 airports 2x each without incidence - unless you count the scene when we were trying to board the plane in PA and O kicked his shoes off for the 3rd time in a row and I just may have pinched his bottom a little too hard when I had to pick him up as well as 2 carry-ons and push a stroller onto the plane. There was screaming. And of course some screaming on the plane from Atlanta to Florida. Because the child got up at 4 AM people! There is nothing soothing about the plane, he is cranky! Staring does not help. Yep, shocking, it's him again. Same kid! Screaming! Because his mother will not let him run through the aisles! Bad mom! Bad kid! Oh, wait, yep, same kid, screaming. Seriously, no other kid has moved into the row diagonally behind you, you really do not need to turn around again. Please, do not turn around again. Turn around again and I am going to ask you if you would like to hold him. Perhaps you really like strong, angry, violent two year olds. Well let me tell you, do I have one for you.

M picked me up at the airport, I handed him the children and said, I need to go home and crawl into my bed for hours. Without my children. Please make this happen. And he did, good man. And he upped the ante by stopping at Whole Foods where we picked up a yummy fufu lunch and then dined waterside in our lovely mini-van while the hellions slept peacefully in their carseats. Now they sleep! Now!

I am still tired from it all.

The boys and I are off to my parents in PA for the week, flying out at 6 AM tomorrow. So that means we are leaving our house at 4 AM - you figure out what time that means I am waking up. Why did I do this?! Because I went for the cheap ticket of course! And it does mean that we arrive at 11:40 AM so really that is a whole day of visiting rather than traveling, so it's worth it. Right? Right?

The boys are asleep in their clothes, A is beyond excited and composed a song in the honor of going to "Mimi's Town" tomorrow. Ah, the simple life. I on the otherhand have just packed my ass off. Despite the fact that the boys and I are all card carrying frequent fliers, I still find the whole packing process daunting and exhausting. I need to let go of some of the stuff I pack, but I can't. I need to bring the Benadryl - what if we have an allergic reaction to an unknown substance mid-flight? I need the saline spray and bulb - what if one of my children can not breathe b/c they are so stuffed up? And don't forget all the food, and drinks, and books, and toys. OMG, thank goodness O is a good walker b/c we need the stroller to schlep the stuff. But this is the first time I am traveling car seat free - I feel giddy at the thought. Don't worry, I am checking them, but I don't feel the need to bring them on the plane for my big guys now. O is so big, all it does is make him that much closer to the seat in front of him so he can kick it the whole flight. Um, no, stress I do not need. Lap belt will be fine.

Speaking of stress, I really, really would like to be normal. Just once in my life. So yes, we are flying tomorrow. And I'm a little bit afraid. Not of the normal things like, delays from hell, terrorists, crashes, etc. No, I am afraid of say some freak accident - like tripping -that might cause me to lose consciousness and thus then having my babies LOST on their own wandering aimlessly about the Atlanta airport. Or you know, something freaky and probable like that. M thinks I have crossed the line into certifiable looney. He may be right.

So I'll be gone for just a bit. Have a happy 4th!