Last night I didn’t set out to write a “Don’t Ignore” post for National Infertility Awareness week. I had planned on jotting down a few sentences and linking over to one of my all time favorite posts that talked a bit about our journey to having kids and calling it a day.
But the words just kept coming. I surprised myself- as crazy as it sounds, I didn’t know I still harbored all those feeling. The anger and insecurity and fear and sadness. 9 years and two kids later, you think I’d be over that. I guess not.
So today I will leave you with that post I meant to share yesterday. Tomorrow, I’ll be back to kid’s antics and potty humor.
This was written on Sept 23, 2010.
It was 5 years ago this week I found out I was pregnant with Scorch.
We started out trying to build our family feeling excited and nervous and oh so very confident that a pregnancy would just happen. We’re married and in love and have always gotten what we wanted by working hard and following the rules and that is whats supposed to happen. Only sometimes, it doesn’t.
6 months into trying, my very awesome doctor ran some tests on the Hubs and I. He was fine- all systems go. I had PCOS- I didn’t ovulate on my own which is must have when trying to get pregnant.
Enter the fertility drugs. One to manage the PCOS. One to stimulate egg growth. One to force me to ovulate. It took three cycles on Clomid- three months of hot flashes, mood swings and pure nerves to finally get pregnant a year and 3 months after we started trying. You have never, ever met two more excited people! We were bursting with the news and picked out a gazillion different ways to tell our families each one more fun and creative then the next.
We told everyone right away never thinking things could go wrong. We’re married and in love and have always gotten what we wanted by working hard and following the rules and bad things aren’t supposed to happen. Only sometimes, they do.
After our 2nd miscarriage, we pulled out the big guns. We saw a specialist and got tested to see why we were experiencing repeat pregnancy loss. Again, the Hubs was perfect. I, on the other hand, have a blood clotting issue as well as a problem with my anti-bodies which made carrying a pregnancy to term next to impossible without some serious medical intervention.
Our 3rd miscarriage came after a few failed cycles using injectables and IUIs. I had given myself daily shots of Heparin, a blood thinner, and still I lost that pregnancy. I. Was. Done. My life for the past 3 years had revolved around making babies and it had consumed everything- my thoughts, our marriage, my outlook on life. No more. The Hubs and I had a long talk and sent away for adoption literature because I was not getting on the reproductive roller-coaster again.
God had other plans.
A month after my 3rd miscarriage, a good friend (hi, Cheri!) and I were spending the weekend shopping while our husbands were away on business. We had big plans that night to go out to a great Italian dinner and split a bottle of wine- I couldn’t wait. I had been having a few pregnancy symptoms and although I chalked them up to the miscarriage, I thought I should test. Just in case.
I found out I was pregnant with Scorch in the bathroom of Target. Classy, no?
This time around we switched up the blood thinner I used (thank you, Lovenox!) and tried IVIg therapy to help with my auto-immune issues. And miracle of miracles, the pregnancy stuck.
Which is a good thing because I cannot imagine life without this kid.