OMD

A few people on the blog and privately expressed an interest in what the term "OMD" meant in reference to mentioning that Zane was our OMD.

Travel back with me in time, oh say, late late March 2004. After a mere 2 years(though silly me it seemed like a lifetime passed in those 2 years) we ended our first ride on the infertility roller coaster. We were on a forced break from the fertility center as the Hospital/practice we were patients of went 'on holiday' from mid November to the end of December each year. We did a few 'cycles' with them prior to that and then were on hold when we didn't get pregnant.

While on that break I got pregnant, but we didn't know for some time, we were nearly 3 years into 'trying' and well lots of help from science. I have always believed that what happened early on in that pregnancy sealed the fate over the next 18 weeks. Just a few weeks pregnant, (still unknown) I had some freak of nature back/neck debilitating injury (literally I could barely move without knife plunging style pain) over the holidays (we had loads of people at the house and it happened just before the Turkey dinner started, perfect, I managed yet again to get out of cooking). After dinner and much pain, we excused ourselves and went to the hospital.

They asked me the obligatory question "are you pregnant". Of course I replied with all the typical fertility treated wind knocked out of me, iced on top with sarcasm "not a chance in hell but we should check".

My advice to each of you out there facing some serious medicines and chest, abdomen and spine x-rays... get the blood test, don't pee in a cup. Our test turned up negative, they went ahead with all the xrays and loaded me up with some serious narcotics.

Just 2 weeks later I found out I was pregnant. To say I was raging with sorrow and joy was an understatement. The doctor's were filled with a lot of angst and worry, they of course tried to hide it, but you can see it in the interns and younger residents who were part of the teaching hospital. I got the "don't worry" lecture. I got the "no, it's not good news that you were on all those medicine's and had all the xrays, we need to wait and see" and finally the "well, if somethings going to go wrong it likely already would have". I tried to find comfort but it weighed on me and I had my concerns about it all.

At week 18 we lost the baby, a little boy..., let's just say there were some serious "problems". I won't go into the crappy details about what happened, but based on what we found out I have always believed that time in the emergency room sealed our fate. Please, no comments to the contrary, I'm not beating myself up over it, I no longer feel the huge weight I did for a long time on my shoulders, I didn't know the pee test could be so much less sensitive than the bloodwork in those early weeks.

So where does the OMD come in?

E and I had been talking about getting a second dog on and off in our earlier marriage years. While pregnant we really started talking about it and researching breeders. While waiting for the following week for the surgery to finalize what nature had already decided for us, we decided to get a dog. In fact, we met and brought home Zane just 2 days after I got the news while undergoing a routine screening. We poured ourselves into that decision as if our lives depended on it, perhaps to pull us through it all.

An attempt to mend our hearts, to give us life to love, to pull us together instead of allowing infertility to rip us apart which is all too easy for those that suffer through it.

Out of our lives went our first child, a boy, and in walked our OMD.

Zane filled a hole so deep in our lives that most people, even those closest to us didn't realize or understand it's depths then or now.

Fast forward a few years to when we returned from our midnight expedition when we found out Sophia had died that night... on the way home E turned to me and said "does this mean we're getting another dog?" If I had the ability to smile or laugh at that point, the irony would have allowed me to. He described in an instant all Zane had been for us and all we would be going through in days and months to come.

This time however, no dog could make a dent in the chasm in our hearts and souls.

It wasn't until this year, when I saw the term in another blog (perhaps Uterine Wars?) that I recognized Zane for what she marked in our life years earlier.

She was and is our Obligatory Miscarriage Dog. Once you hear the term you can spot these pets in other people's lives, I read certain blogs and know certain people's stories in our own lives and well... I see OMD's everywhere, sometimes they aren't dogs but cats, but they are very real reminders of the trauma that life is sometimes and our attempt to just stay afloat.

And pleeeeeaaaaase, for those reading who think I'm making light of miscarriage and our loss, you have no idea the depths to which we still mourn and still have holes in ourselves over those years of war on fertility. It's just that I finally recognize how Zane came to our life, why and quite frankly why she was so sheltered by us and likely crazed... those times were tough on all.

So the term OMD... I can't claim it as my own, but it rings true.