I was brought up Catholic. I participated in Sunday school, sang in the children's choir, made my First Communion, and continued weekly religious instruction up until high school. Since I was pretty sick as a teenager I was unable to make my Confirmation as I was in the hospital for treatment pretty much every other week over a period of 2 1/2 years. As an adult, at the age of 23, I went back and made my Confirmation after going through a series of classes with my church. We were not "overly" religious, we just knew that we believed in God and that one day we would live with him in Heaven. Little did I know how quickly things would change for me. As time went on the "naiveness" of childhood started to disappear and I was left facing all of these experiences from my childhood that I didn't know how to handle. Realizing how much my past had affected me, I quickly became angry as I did not understand how God could have let these horrific things happen to an innocent child. I soon came to realize that I had been dealt an unfair hand, and things were not getting any better.
When my Dziadziu passed away back in 2006, I forced myself to believe again as I wanted to still feel connected to him. The only way that my heart could heal was by knowing that he was in Heaven looking over me. On July 1, 2009 I had a dream that my Babci and I were at her house packing a suitcase. When I asked her where she was going she said that she was taking a long trip. We went to the train station where we boarded the train together. We sat next to each other and started talking. I remember saying to her that I forgive her and I know that it wasn't her fault (referring to her aggressiveness due to her dementia.) She started to cry and told me that she was so happy to hear me say that. The train stopped and we got up. As I started to walk down the isle she told me that she was getting off but I had to remain on the train. I was confused but I listened. The train started to move again and I watched as she disappeared as the train moved on. The train returned to the original train station and I got off. When I woke up from this dream I was a bit taken back and I didn't know what to think. I got ready for work as usual and left for an early morning meeting. As I was turning off of my road, my phone rang and it was the nursing home. They were calling to tell me that Babci had passed away about an hour ago. I knew right then and there what that dream meant. Over the past couple of years, I have been holding onto that dream as I just couldn't believe that it was a coincidence.
After my 3rd loss last August I really started to question everything again. I just didn't understand how this could be happening. Four days after the D&C my bladder shut down and required emergency surgery...it was in no way related to the D&C. I ended up being catheterized for almost 7 weeks. It was at this point that I knew that I no longer had faith, life was just a crap shoot and I had the worst luck in the world. After finding out that my HCG rose last week from 7.8 to 13.4, even though an extremely low HCG, I started talking to Babci and Dziadziu again. I laid in my bed and cried to them, telling them that I need to find my faith again as I am too weak to do "life" on my own anymore. I asked them to give me a sign, something obvious, so that I would know that I could believe again and I had nothing to fear as my fate was ultimately up to God and all of this was just somehow part of a bigger, better plan. When I found out on Tuesday that my HCG had jumped to 110.6, I couldn't help but feel that this was my sign. The nurses even agreed that it was an incredible jump and that things could be okay. I wasn't letting my guard down, but I did have a glimmer of hope. Driving to my clinic this morning, there was part of me that was thinking that this could all be okay. This was going to be the miracle that will give me my faith back. About an hour after I left the clinic, my phone rang. They had called me to let me know that my HCG had dropped to 50. Every little bit of comfort and hope that I had towards life was gone. I kept telling myself not to be stupid as how could I expect that transferring one embryo, even though chromosomally perfect, would result in a pregnancy. Granted, the fact that it was chromosomally normal raised the chances of a successful pregnancy from 25% to almost 70%, but I knew that when we were told that we only had one good embryo to transfer that this would never work. The part that I don't understand is why did it have to start to implant? Why did it continue to develop and why couldn't this just have been a negative cycle? This is now my 5th loss, how is that fair? I am starting to think that this dream is a dream that cannot be.
As I sit here holding my dogs collar in my hands, as the tears role down my face, I realize that the last good thing from childhood is now gone. I have lost my best friend, my faith and another pregnancy. I wonder how strong I really am?