On Infertility

I wrote this for my friend's blog, but thought I would share it here.  My children are my most-precious, absolute best contribution to this earth. Of that, there is no doubt.

Hi, I am Crystal and I was a pregnant teenager.  So embarrassing- but then- at NINETEEN- it was mortifying.  I was in-between my freshman and sophomore year when I realized I was pregnant.  While, yes, I was married and yes, I was happy  to be with the person I was (I felt a measure of security), I went to an all-girls' school and girls can be catty.  I never came straight-out and really talked about my pregnancy with anyone until I was thrown a baby shower a couple weeks before my daughter was born.  My biggest fear, when I was growing up, was that I would get pregnant by some guy and drop out of high-school.  I was a pretty good kid though and that definitely did not happen.  That it happened in college was still not my ideal and since I had dreams of medical school and traveling, my life, as I knew it, was over.

Have you ever seen the movie waitress? The main character starts journaling to her baby (that everyone else is so excited about), and she is angry.  At one point, she writes, "Dear damn baby..." I know that feeling.  I also, know the feeling that she felt at looking at her brand new baby girl for the very first time.  My daughter- of whom I was so afraid- saved my life.  She saved me.  I was an awesome student, I did lots of good, and I loved and played with my daughter the way I had wished I had been loved as a daughter.  I suppose all my fears were from having been the daughter of born to a (barely 16) teenage mom... However, I never was wanted until I was an adult. 

Valerie saved me.  I wanted "good" for her, and as such, I did my best, but also know that I wanted the energy and ability to provide for her.  I decided for 8 years that I would only have one child.

At 28, I started wanting another child.  I was separated though, and definitely not about to embark on the life of single mom who then gets pregnant by some random guy.

Matt and I met and I fell in love with his gentle kindness.  We decided to marry on May 5 that January.  I quickly determined that on May 13, I would be ovulating and made romantic plans accordingly 5 months in advance.  Since I had noooo trouble "getting" Valerie, I hoped that this would be the case, once again.  I talked about my fears of it NOT being the case, but honestly, in my heart, having come from women with lots of babies, I did not doubt that I would be having a baby within a year of that January.

I did ovulate right on schedule and 2 weeks later, I tested and it was positive! That was Father's Day weekend.  Can you imagine my joy in telling Matt?! I had a soft green blanket that I poised the (tip-covered) positive test on his side of the bed.  Then I texted the "POSITIVE" display to all my friends.

WOOT! I was prideful to the max. 

2 weeks later, I felt a strange pain deep within my abdomen.  I knew it then, but I took a test that day and three days consecutively, just in case- still pregnant each time.  I had blood work done Friday and then again Monday, however, Sunday, I stood up when I awoke that morning and the gush that took place told me for sure... the pain I felt days earlier was a miscarriage.

That was June.

I tested myself for ovulation, then pregnancy every 2 weeks on alternating Friday mornings.  Ovulation = romantic plans.  Pregnancy = SUCCESS!  However, 3 more times, this pregnancy ended in the EXACT same way in August, October and December.

Finally, in January, I got pregnant again and immediately called my Dr.  One morning, still WEEKS before my 8 week appointment, I had a light pink spotting and he agreed to let me come in that day.  I saw a new sac.  He told me to be careful, rest and just wait it out.  I spent every waking hour praying.  Generally the spotting in the morning meant 2 days later, a gush... just like before.

This time, he said this sac was just above 2 large fibroid tumors and for good measure, he had me tested for some auto-immune antibodies. 

The spotting went away completely, and at week 8, I was able to see my baby's heartbeat.  I actually called his nurse a few hours later to ask if she saw it too and to make sure we all three saw a beating heart.  I had been told once you see a beating heart, chances of miscarriage are almost absent. 

I DO have anti-cardiolipin antibodies and as such injected myself 2-3 times a day with blood-thinning heparin to keep clots from cutting off placental blood supply.

Asher was born 5 weeks early and spent 8 days in the NICU, but he is fine and healthy now.  Never, would I have guessed I would struggle with fertility, but I did.

I have had several (I stopped counting, but at least three, more like 5) miscarriages since (in fact, one happened Saturday).  I am at the point now, that I would love another baby and sibling for my kiddos, but I think the emotional toll (and now the fact I feel no emotion at all at miscarriages) is a sign I should have a hysterectomy.  Clearly, my struggles are real.  For a while, I supposed I thought it was "all in my head."