(Just a warning: This post will probably be lengthy. If you choose to read it, get comfortable.)
This will probably be the first and last time I delve into the details of our journey to parenthood, and that's only because infertility seems to be more and more common, and if I can remind someone who's going through/gone through what Eric and I have over the last three years that somehow you'll still make it out in one piece, well, then, I'll consider this post successful.
Our journey to parenthood officially started on August 9, 2010. That was the day Eric and I decided to take active steps to becoming pregnant. In my naive mind, once the decision was made, it was practically a done deal. In another month I'd be pregnant, then I could announce it to my parents, whose anniversary is August 9 (what a great gift, right?), and my new niece due in November would have a cousin close in age. All was perfect!
Except it wasn't perfect. The next month came, not pregnant. The month after? Not even close. That disheartening pattern continued until January when I went in to see my doctor.
FYI: I'm going to get kind of personal here about my infertility issues, so readers beware.
The reason I wasn't getting pregnant was incredibly obvious. I wasn't having a period. Simple fix. Doc gave me some progesterone to get that sucker started, so surely within a couple of weeks, conception would occur. Only it didn't. Not the first time, not the second time, not the fifth time, not anytime after. At this point I was growing more and more discouraged. It was getting close to 9 months since we decided to have kids. WHY WAS IT NOT WORKING????
Back to the doctor we go.
"Oh, you're just not ovulating! We can fix that! Clomid!"
Didn't work.
"Easy peasy. Double the Clomid!"
Still didn't work.
"Let's try Letrozole!"
Infertility: 413. Meds: 0.
"I think it's time you see a specialist."
Those words...Those words made me feel about two inches tall. So many questions ran through my mind: Why can't I get pregnant? Why is God making this so hard on me? Am I just not good enough for motherhood? What am I doing wrong? But the most tormenting question was one I was scared even to consider.
If I'm supposed to have children, shouldn't it happen naturally? Am I fighting against fate by taking matters into my own hands?
Because let's just be honest here. Fertility treatments aren't cheap. They're not only expensive, but time-consuming, emotional, distressing, NOT FUN. Did I really want to go through all of that if it just wasn't meant to be? Or at least meant to be right now?
It took a lot of prayer to come to the conclusion that it was worth it, that I needed to do all I could to make children a reality in our lives, and once I did, God would handle the rest. And let me just say, marrying the right man to help me get through this made all the difference. At times I forgot he was going through it just like I was. I was so focused on me, me, why me, that sometimes I neglected to remember he was suffering emotionally like I was. But ever the patient, loving man that he is, he held my hand, stroked my hair, and reminded me of how loved and adored I was. I'll always love him dearly for that.
So off to the the fertility clinic we go. After a couple of exams and preliminary testing, a diagnosis was reached. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), which apparently is quite common. We opted for daily injections to help me ovulate, and when the time was right, to inject a megashot to release the egg. And just to give it our best chance, we decided to do an insemination. Everything was going to plan, and everything was working out. The day of the insemination came, and the procedure went beautifully! Two weeks later, I get a call, on my planning period as a matter of fact, and learn it didn't work. Whatever sadness and worthlessness I felt before was minimal to the agonizing heartbreak I felt then. I couldn't even stay at school. I wanted to go home, curl up in a ball, and cry, cry, cry, which I eventually did. Having to tell Eric was the worst part. We mourned together, but in our attempts to remain optimistic and faithful, we made a decision to move on. It was the only thing TO do.
Interestingly enough, three weeks later, we found out we were moving to Florida. God apparently knew something we didn't when he didn't allow us to be pregnant then.
Fast forward to March 2013. Our fertility journey was going on 2.5 years, and I was growing more and more anxious. After several long months and several back-and-forths with insurance, I was able to return to a fertility place just down the street from where we lived. On our first appointment, we told the doctor everything we knew and that we wanted to take our best shot at being pregnant. She asked me if I'd heard of the drug Metformin. I told her I had and I was anxious to try it. (It's a diabetic drug that's been shown to help people with PCOS). In addition to the Metformin, we'd triple the dosage of Clomid and cross our fingers. I was a bit skeptical of doing Clomid again since we had no luck with it before, but I trusted in the doctor and the success stories I'd heard about Metformin, and we went with it.
FINALLY in July 2013, we were ready for insemination #2. Everything was perfect! But then, on August 9th, we learned the results. Negative.
I didn't want to do this again. At least, not anytime soon. It was just. Too. Hard. And emotional. Plus, school was starting and the pain of not being pregnant was just not something I wanted to deal with.
But then something happened. Something that hasn't happened in YEARS. Later that day, August 9th, my period started. What the what??? That hasn't happened without being medically induced since long before I was married. At first I thought it was a sick joke the universe played on me. Not only are you NOT pregnant, but now you must suffer with bleeding and cramps and moodiness and discomfort! Muahahaha! I could hear it mocking me. But later that night, as Eric and I discussed the events of the day, he helped me realize that maybe the universe wasn't intensifying my pain. Maybe it was helping me understand that now was NOT the time to give up, but to press on in faith. I mean, how could I waste a perfectly good period by not doing everything I could to make children a reality in our lives? Again, the thoughts echoed in my head: Do all you can do, and God will take care of the rest.
So I called the doctor. A baseline sonogram was taken and everything was healthy. The medicine I ingested. The day of insemination #3 came. It was a sunny Sunday morning, August 25th, 9:15 AM, when my appointment was scheduled. With mixed emotions, a strange blend of hope and fear, we walked into the clinic with heads held high. The procedure was completed, quite painfully actually, and now the wait game began. I was fortunate enough to be thrust into a chaotic school year that helped ease my mind of the worries of possible pregnancy. Two weeks later, on Sunday, September 8th, I decided to take a test.
I never thought two pink lines could be so magnificently beautiful.
It was simply the most surreal moment of our lives. What we've wanted for so long was finally here. Could this really be true? Is the test accurate? It was. The blood test confirmed it. I was pregnant. Finally.
Today it's so easy to say the fertility journey was worth it, but I won't lie and tell you it was a walk in the park. It was a hard, painful road that eventually led to our happy ending, but I realize not everyone reaches the same ending. If I could go back to the beginning of my journey and tell myself a few things, it'd be this:
1. You are not worthless. You're inability to get pregnant is not due to not being good enough.
2. People are going to tell you that it'll happen when it's supposed to happen, and that God has a plan. While you may know in your heart this is true, you're not going to want to hear this. In your mind, it still registers that God isn't blessing you with a child because you're not worthy of one. In the words of Professor Umbridge, THIS IS A LIE.
3. Spend as much time getting to know and date your husband. The stronger the bond, the easier the journey.
4. Continue writing. To produce a work of art after months of labor is such a great reward. While it doesn't compare to making a baby, it is still joyous and wonderful, and you will find great happiness in doing what you love.
How grateful I am that Eric and I pressed on midst the pain we felt year after year. It took us three years to hear Baby Mitchell's heartbeat, and it was the most glorious sound in the world. My heart is heavy with the thought of how many people go through what we went through and not have the same outcome. I hope you find happiness somewhere in life.
And I hope you never give up, no matter how badly you want to. No matter the outcome of the journey, you will be better in the end. Somehow.
