I think I always knew I would have a hard time getting
pregnant. My aunt and uncle adopted both of their children as a result of
infertility. I remember thinking that this was my fate (for several reasons
that I shouldn't type here) and was semi-okay with it.
Until this thought became a reality.
Joe and I were married for two years before we officially
started “trying” to conceive. During these years we were not “preventing”
pregnancy (I hadn't been on birth control since before our engagement) but I
also wasn't charting my body. I was, however, fielding questions of our
impending offspring since our first dance as husband and wife. This itself can
be exhausting and the epitome of emotional torture.
After a year of no luck on our own (and growing more and
more scared due to the internet and book research I’d been doing) I went to my
ObGYN office. I went through three doctors before I find what I call my “soul
mate” doctor.
She listened to me. She empathized with me. She created a
plan.
There were tests, ultrasounds, procedures and medicine. There
was lots of research and reading. One of the BEST resources I found was the
book, “Taking Charge of Your Fertility”. I recommend it to all of my friends.
For 29 months I tracked my body. For 884 days I logged my
basal body temperature and inspected my cervical fluid in the hopes of finding
positive signs of ovulation. Out of these 29 months I only ovulated ten times.
TEN!
These were the hardest months for me and my marriage. Joe
and I are so different when it comes to tackling problems (maybe all men and
women are for that matter). Especially our infertility struggles. His answer,
bless his heart, was always just to have more sex and stop trying so hard (Um, aren't
those opposites?!) I tried my best to keep the fun and spontaneity in our
relationship but this was SO HARD. It took a while for us to get back to being
“carefree” in the bedroom. I know a lot of you can relate to this <3
There were a few big hiccups along the way. Friend after
friend would get pregnant; all while “not trying” and “being on birth control”
or having only tried for a few months. There were many sobbing sessions hidden
away in my closet – the place where I could let out the ugliest of ugly cries
and cleanse my emotions.
January 2011 I hit my breaking point. I crashed. Hard.
Ugly. There becomes a point where you
can’t hear the opinions of others anymore: “What is wrong with you?” “Don’t you know
that’s what you’re supposed to do now that you've been married for so long?”
Yes. Yes, I do know. My body on the other hand; I don’t think she does.
January 2011 was also
the month that we became pregnant. It seems that whole lesson is true; just
when you think you can’t take anymore, God shows you the way.
I had an amazing pregnancy. Almost as if the universe was
trying to make up for all the other bad things. Towards the end there was a
battle between the ultrasound technician and my OB over the size and continued
growth of the baby but we averted an early induction and I was pregnant for 41
weeks.
