Nearly three weeks later, I finally got the results from the embryo analysis of my miscarried fetus. The embryo was chromosomally abnormal due to maternal Triploidy, 69 XXX. While I was told in a message by my RE that I could find some reassurance in knowing that I did not lose a chromosomally normal embryo (way to look on the bright side Dr. C.), I needed details. I asked my RE’s nurse to email the results and spent all of last night learning about Triploidy, 69 XXX.
XXX = Girl
First of all, I learned that the XXX meant I had lost a girl (It’s been YEARS since I took Biology). This was by far the saddest thing of all. I’ve held it together well since learning that the embryo stopping growing at 6 weeks 1 day, but last night the dame broke. Hubby expressed some concern about my non-stop internet researching (which started up with a vengeance as soon as I got the results), and about what he views as “obsessiveness” and I freaked. I am SO tired of people telling me to relax, right after I get bad news! Yes, I blog and talk about infertility, miscarriage, loss etc. from time to time, but that’s not ALL that I am. I don’t spend all day every day eating, shitting, and breathing infertility (even if I might want to), doesn’t he know that? UGH. I’m still writing my book and redesigning my fitness blog, among a million other things like contemplating the bar exam and deciding whether or not to finish graduate school. I’m still me, albeit recovering from a miscarriage three weeks ago today. SO EXCUSE ME, for being worried, concerned, and sad the evening of getting the weird half good half bad news. And it’s not only him. My mother and some friends have that reaction too. “Just relax. It will happen,” they say. Okay, I get it, I just wrote a blog about “IT” happening. But can I have five minutes to learn about what went wrong? Can I have a minute to mourn having lost one perfectly good female gene carrying sperm to my shitty egg? If and when I finally do get pregnant God strike me down if I ever have the nerve to tell a fellow subfertile or endosister to relax about their baby making fears. Also, keep in mind I wasn’t crying, or yelling, or spazzing out in any way. I was simply researching and reporting my findings during commercial breaks in the movie we were watching. And then, I was simply relaying to my Mother similar things in a late night phone conversation. Moral of the story: NO ONE WILL TAKE YOUR FERTILITY HEALTH AS SERIOUSLY AS YOU DO! And people other then your infertility sisters just will not understand. Grrr.
I didn’t always know I wanted a daughter. I thought my athletic ways would be more suited to a rambunctious boy. I thought I just got along better with boys anyway, being the only girl in the family, the only daughter, the only grand daughter, the only female cousin. I only knew boys, brothers, male cousins. I only knew family gatherings where I was exalted as “the favorite grand daughter,” because, of course, I was the only grand daughter (to this day my Grandpa LOVES telling this “joke”). I had and still have best friends who are guys. And while I have wonderful girlfriends, my pseudo-sisters, I was sure until recently that a family of boys would be best because that’s what I have always known. Besides, what would I do with a daughter? Her expensive wedding, her luxury tastes, her cat fights with friends? And wouldn’t a daughter be too hard to protect. Protecting myself has been hard enough. While I’m not ready to write about it, to expose the horrors I’ve experienced in their most gruesome forms, I will tell you this, I’ve been a victim. I’m not just a victim of endometriosis, a chronic disease that has impaired my ability to have a child. I am a victim, a survivor, of child abuse. I’ve also been a victim of sexual assault (which I cover briefly in a book I’ve contributed to) . It’s the simple fact of my gender that’s made me the target of these crimes. It’s because I’m a daughter, sister, niece, that I became a victim at all.
But something changed. Perhaps it was the closeness I’ve obtained with my own mother as I’ve gotten older (despite her and my husband’s “relax” comments I know they both mean well). Perhaps it was the realization that I’m far more girly that I think I am and could envision years of mother daughter bonding over ice tea and fashion magazines (or over kick boxing and hiking). But even deeper still, I think it’s my desire to break the cycle. Because even for what I’ve been through I’m not so bad. I actually like me most of the time. I’m a freaking survivor and I’m an intense, fight for what you want, kick a## at life kind of person. But who would I be had none of that pain been inflicted? How many years of floundering and dangerous experimenting might have been replaced with a less tumultuous youth, free from self-abuse?
I want to give my daughter that chance. I want to help her be a strong, kick butt kind of girl because she’s secure, not because she’s damaged. I want to learn from the mistakes others have made and be the best darn mom to a daughter that I can be. SO I’ll go ahead and admit it, I want a daughter most of all. Of course I’d be very happy with a baby boy (any baby at all would be a true gift from any and all Gods, I know), but if I can’t have a biological daughter of my own, maybe I will adopt or use an egg donor or go through foster care. There’s no other role I’ve been more sure of, than that I’m meant to be a mother to a daughter. So to learn that I’d lost a baby girl, that a good female gene carrying sperm was lost on my bad egg, was a new kind of devastating.
I still can’t tell if Triploidy chromosomal abnormalities are common or rare based on my research. One paper in particular described Triploidy in the following way (read the entire paper here):
“Triploidy is the most frequent chromosome aberration in first trimester spontaneous abortions. In contrast to aneuploidies due to nondisjunction, increased maternal age is not a risk factor and the mechanism of triploidy remains poorly understood. To date, recurrence of triploidy of maternal origin has been described only in a few families suggesting some underlying genetic factors.”
On the positive side, this particular egg wasn’t bad because of my age, I’m 32. On the not so positive side, I’ve practically convinced myself that I’m going to be one of the rare individuals with “recurrence.” At this point, why wouldn’t I be? That’s how I’ve been feeling lately. Not sorry for myself exactly, just doomed. Cursed. Hexed.
Although the article above initially states that Triploidy is “the most frequent chromosome aberration in first trimester spontaneous abortions”, it goes on to say that, “Triploidy occurs approximately in 2% of conceptuses.” If the miscarriage rate is 25% on average and Triploidy is the most common abberation at 2% then something doesn’t add up. I’ve made a note to ask my RE about this, she’s scheduled to call me any minute.
I hope this was a fluke and that someday I’ll get to take home a baby girl (or boy), but I seem to have used up my #itwillhappen steam from a few days ago.
Anyone out there have a miscarriage due to maternal Triploidy? If so, did you go on to have a healthy baby, via IVF or otherwise?