Chad and I started dating when we were 15 years old. We met at church and didn’t go to the same school. We knew right away that we wanted to be together forever and we spoke often of our desire to have 5 kids; which is funny to me now because sometimes we can barely handle the 3 God had for us.
More than anything in his life, Chad wanted to be a husband and a dad.
We got married when we were 19 years old. it was June 15, 1996. We had the typical fancy wedding with way too many people and we started our lives together. We weren’t ready for babies – we were still babies ourselves and so we went through life working and making a life never giving much thought to the idea that having babies might not be that simple .I think its common at 19 to assume it will all go exactly as you plan. That at some point, having babies just comes next.
Summer of 1998, we decided that we would be ok if I got pregnant and we made the decision to stop birth control and see what God had in mind. The idea of no protection brought on feelings of nervous excitement and even though we weren’t officially “trying” I was certain we would be pregnant any day. Because…thats how it works. Right?
Turns out, we didn’t need “protection” from getting pregnant because we really just didn’t get pregnant. Until we did; breifly. But in the blink of an eye – the pregnancy was gone. I had gone for an ultrasound, unaware that I was pregnant at all, only to find that my baby was already gone. I was shocked and devastated and so confused.
Miscarriage number one.
A few months later, miscarriage number two.
At that point, my doctor was concerned, and obviously, we were too. My OB suggested that I have some tests done. I went through the painful procedure of having my fallopian tubes tested (don’t even get me started on that!) along with bloodwork and ultrasounds to try to understand. I was diagnosed with, what I believe was the only diagnosis they could think of at the time – PCOS.
It was a diagnosis that was frustrating and confusing. It made pregnancy sound and feel like a silly dream and it was confusing because I had ZERO history of any ovarian cysts. Regardless, I struggled big time with my identity as a woman and the idea that I might never give my husband the babies he had always dreamed of. The depression that came with my diagnosis was debilitating and I packed on some weight pretty quickly.
Which, of course, helped nothing.
I lost some time then. I can’t even recall now the span of time that passed while I tried to wrap my brain around my limitations. I worked and slept and somewhere in there I did in fact get pregnant again. And miscarried again.
In the fall of 2001, we made the decision to seek the help of a fertility doctor. Earlier in the year, I had snapped out of my funk, lost some weight and I was ready to fight for this family that we had dreamed of. We met with the fertility doctors at Virginia Mason in October 2001 and made a plan. Clomid and IUI (Intrauterine insemination) with my follicle growth being be monitored with ultrasound. We had missed the window for clomid for my October cycle, so the first time we tried just the IUI. No success. My November cycle, we tried the clomid and despite making me super sick, the IUI was still not successful.
I hated how the clomid made me feel. Horrible headaches that left me in bed with silent tears rolling down my face. Chad would sometimes stroke my hair while I laid there crying, thanking me for being willing to try everything to get our babies. I decided I couldn’t do clomid in December. It was Christmas time and I wanted to enjoy it. I needed a break from constantly feeling so gross and the Clomid was EXPENSIVE. I informed Chad and the fertility clinic of my decision. Chad was devastated and the fertility clinic told me I was making a mistake. They called in my script for Clomid “just in case” I changed my mind.
A few nights later, I was at the grocery store and I decided to pick up my perscription. I didn’t plan on taking it, but I figured I could just have it available for next month.
The cost was $5.
It had been hundreds before. I stared at the pharmasist and assured them that they were wrong. They kindly informed me that my new insurance plan covered Clomid.
I went home an told Chad. He told me it was a “sign.” I told him “I don’t believe in signs.”
Besides, I was certain I had already missed the day I was supposed to start the pills.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day I was supposed to start the pills.
I started the pills the next day. The nurse at the Virgina Mason was so glad. She really had a good feeling about this round.
Turned out…her feeling was right.
© Family First Midwifery 2018
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