What is a balanced translocation?

My Second Miscarriage

I was actually not intending to discuss this topic today, but as I need to do research for the next topic I wanted to discuss I figured I would switch it around, and do the next one next time.

I was kind of prepared for my second miscarriage. Except I also wasn't. No matter how much you tell yourself you are ready for this, you never really are. . .

I again knew I was pregnant about 4 or 5 days before I was, except this time I kind of knew what was going on. I knew on monday, but had to wait till friday before anything would show up. Boy, I waited that week with an excited feeling in my heart. I was cramping, my breasts were huge and tender, and I had so much discharge it wasn't funny. Copious discharge after ovulation for me means pregnant. I wasn't tired yet, or having strange cravings, but I knew every pregnancy is different. I was absolutely sure I was pregnant.

The 23rd came around and I wanted to take that test but was too afraid to do it. My husband finally convinced me that evening to take it and I did. Two very faint lines, but they were lines.

I was pregnant!

It only took me about a month or two to get pregnant this time and I was so grateful! I didn't want to wait the 5 months it took me the first time, so I'd been quite proactive, charting with a fervor I didn't know I had.

Once I found out I was pregnant I called the OBGYN right away. Of course, I didn't have an appointment until the next week, but I insisted on being seen anyway. I'd had a miscarriage before, and the HCG had been so low, I needed someone to do a blood test on me, I didn't care if the doctor could see me or not. I knew this was not the protocol. I was seeing a new doctor, a doctor that was in such high demand because he is just that awesome. And I do mean it when I say that.

He agreed to see me that week and I went about my business quite happily. I didn't care, I was going to see the doctor.

The day before I was slated to see the doctor I saw bloody discharge. I freaked out. I called the doctor, explaining that yes, it was only pink tinged discharge, but I'd had a miscarriage before. Something wasn't right.

They told me to relax, that if it was a miscarriage there was nothing I could do, but since it wasn't really blood and no clots, I would just have to wait until the next day. The doctor did call me that day though, just to talk to me himself, even though he was on call. I said he was a great doctor didn't I.

Within the next two to three weeks I had three blood tests. Two just to check on my HCG, and then the last one because I insisted that I was feeling pregnant. The first two confirmed that I was pregnant, but there was no way that my HCG levels were going up properly. The last blood test was taken because I was feeling more pregnant. That showed that my levels were going up, but still not enough. At what should have been 7 1/2 weeks for me, my HCG levels were only at 100 something. I don't remember that well.

My doctor suggested a D&E, explaining to me that this pregnancy was not going to be normal, even if I carried it out farther. He just wasn't comfortable letting me go on.

I trusted my doctor and went ahead with it. I know it was the right thing to do, anyone can say whatever they want.

He was gentle, the procedure went by quick, and they made sure that I was either not awake for it or just didn't remember it. I'm not sure which, because obviously I don't remember it.

I waited six weeks for a karyotype test on the tissue which never came back. My doctor believes that the tissue just didn't grow. When I went back for my follow-up appointment we decided we were going to test for a chromosome problem and a blood clotting problem.

A little over three weeks later I found out that I had a balanced translocation between chromosome 4 and 16.

I cried. They can't fix that you know.

And of course, my doctor being the wonderful doctor that he is, sent me to a genetic counselor to discuss what that meant.

I'm feeling hopeful. All the women on my mom's side of the family had it, and they've all had children. I know it can be done. My mother had a translocation AND Endometriosis. My aunt had a translocation AND Placenta previa. As far as we can figure, I'm perfectly fine except for this.

I know you're wondering what a translocation is, exactly, and that's my topic for next time, so stay tuned. . .

My First Miscarriage

I hope that someone gets something out of the next few posts, because this topic is hard for me to discuss. . .

I found out I was pregnant for the first time on October 9, 2006. I actually kind of knew 5 days before, but didn't know. I was experiencing back pain and never realized that I was pregnant. Instead I went to the doctor, because the pain was just excruciating, and my temperature was fluctuating so wildly! I was going from a perfectly normal 98.6 to 99.6 which was really close to a fever for me. So I left work, and went home, called the doctor, who had me come in and gave me some pain meds. He gave me a muscle relaxant and Flexeril, which is basically the same thing as Aleve. I went hom and the next few days relaxed. Pregnancy never occured to me. I was tired, but I figured that was because of the muscle relaxants and medication I was on.

When I went back to work on Monday it was one of my coworkers who asked the question: "Do you think you could be pregnant."

"No," I replied, "at least, I don't think so."

Of course this caused me to wonder and wonder and at lunch time I ran out to Eckerds and picked up some First Response Pregnancy tests (they're my favorite for some reason). I took it into the bathroom at work and awkwardly peed on the thing (I'd become an expert on this much later). I put the stick down and intently not watched it, but when I glanced back at it there it was. TWO LINES!! I was pregnant!

There was never anyone as happy as I was finding this news out. We had been halfheartedly trying for the past 5 months, and I'd given up on this month.

Slowly over the next week we told everybody. Everyone knew, and even though the possibility of losing the baby wavered at the edge of my mind, I didn't really believe it. I just didn't believe it would happen to me. It made the truth so much more shocking.

I spend the day of October 19th just not feeling right. I felt like I was about to go on my period, and even though I had lots of discharge (for me this is actually a big sign of being pregnant), it just didn't feel right. It felt kind of gritty, not slippery. I kept going to the bathroom, I kept checking, and when it was time to go home I was glad to leave work. I went to the grocery store and got a few things, and when I went back home I felt like I needed to pee really badly. So I went to the bathroom, where I discovered a light brown stain. It was blood, there was no mistaking it.

I started freaking out, saying no, no, calling my doctor my mother. Thank God my mom had her wits about her, she was the one who called my husband. And then talked to me until he got home. I kept telling myself it was going to be alright, this happens sometimes in pregnancy, it was going to be okay.

We waited and waited in that hospital waiting room. Why weren't they going faster? What if something was wrong and they could save my baby?

Finally, after an hour of sitting there they called our names. I was sent back, told to undress, put on the gown. They took blood, did a quick pelvic exam. Sent me for an ultrasound. I kept thinking it was alright, because the ultrasound never said she didn't see anything. She just kept saying that what she saw was more indicative of four weeks as opposed to 5 1/2. I didn't know that meant that she didn't see a thing. We had a wait for another hour before they told us anything.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Burleson, but technically you're not pregnant."

Those were the exact word she used. I freaked out. I had been pregnant, but there was nothing to be seen on the ultrasound, and my HCG levels were down to 4. Even though her words were callous, they were true.

I couldn't face anyone for the next week. I listlessly went to the renaissance fair, went to see my parents like we always did on sundays. But when monday rolled around, I refused to go to work. I just couldn't face it.

I still hate to think about it, but I've come to terms with it now.

But it's still hard. I would have had my baby June 2, 2007, I could have had a baby in my arms by now. . .

Why?

I don't usually take the time to explain myself, but before I tell you anything I'm going to tell you why I chose to start a blog on this topic. I mean, why would I do that, right, why would I share something so personal?

I don't believe that these balanced translocations are a rare occurence, I think they happen a lot. My evidence? Every woman on my mother's side of the family has it. My grandmother, my mother, my aunt, and myself, we all have balanced translocations. I always knew that my aunt and my grandmother had some sort of chromosomal abnormality (which we found out recently, but that's a different story for a different day) but what it was I didn't know. And my mother asserted that she had no such thing, it was something just the two of them shared.

If I would have understood then what I understand now I wouldn't have avoided the two miscarriages I've had. I don't pretend that things would have gone much differently. But I would have known why it went wrong, and for me, knowing gives me comfort.

My miscarriages tore me up in ways I can't explain, and every single day I asked myself what I could have done differently, how I could have prevented them. I didn't know then that the miscarriages were a blessing, my body doing what it was supposed to do, recognizing that there was something wrong with my embryos and letting them go. It's a blessing, I know it. Had my body not done that I could be dealing with a child that is severely handicapped, much more than my cousin is. Of course, I would have loved any baby that I was given, but I also don't hold any illusions about what's going on.

I know I sound callous, it's hard not to when you've miscarried twice in six months, and then had to wait six weeks to be told at the end of it that there was something wrong which could not be fixed. But I've still got lots of hope, because now I know what's going on, now I know that it's not something I've done, it's just this part of my genetic makeup that I can't control.

To me, this is comforting. . .

Next Time: My First Miscarriage