Surprise!

After dealing with the roller coaster that is pregnancy after infertility, I fully expected to wait another several years before trying again for a baby. I knew it would take strength to prepare myself for month after month of disappointment, and I didn’t know how I would handle that with a toddler running around.

Following much discussion over the holidays, we set our tentative start date for our fifth wedding anniversary, the first of May. We would have the next five months to lose the weight we wanted, save the money we were hoping, and get ourselves into a better mental state for the trying process. My cycles were regular for the first time in years, and I didn’t want to mess that up by going on the pill. So I was tracking my cycles using a few different phone apps, we were avoiding my ‘fertile’ week, and I figured we were good to go.

Did you know that sometimes with PCOS (and other fertility issues), pregnancy can act as a reset button? And did you know that one slight slip up, days after you were SUPPOSED to be ovulating, can result in pregnancy (even though two years of carefully timed sex led to nothing?)

I was assuming that weaning K was the reason that my cycle was a little bit off in January. But when I was a day or two late, I tested. The test was stark white, and I broke down crying. I knew we weren’t ready for a baby, I knew that the timing wasn’t right (we hadn’t saved enough, I was still 10lbs over pre-pregnancy weight), but at the same time, I was heartbroken that this wonky cycle wasn’t due to pregnancy. But then, several days later, when my cycle still hadn’t ended, I took another test. And within two minutes, two blue lines stared back at me.

Despite our plans to wait, God had other ideas for our family.

I’m in shock, completely overwhelmed and absolutely thrilled. While we plan, God laughs (or so the saying goes). I’ve had a little time now to adjust to the idea, and while I’m terrified of what having two kids is going to be like, I’m so excited to see K as a big sister, and I’m excited to see what kind of family dynamic we will have as four instead of three. I’m looking forward to new baby snuggles and tiny clothes and nursing again.

I’m worried about lack of sleep. Forget sleeping while baby sleeps when there’s a toddler running around. What about naps? What about bedtimes? Am I ever going to get time alone? I’m thinking about double the baby laundry, and twice as many diapers, and more STUFF. What if this baby’s a boy? I don’t know what to do with a boy!

And yet, I find that place of calm. I breathe, and know that God has a plan. I was terrified about having one baby, and that turned out wonderfully. I know life with this baby will be just as great. So before I turn to my list-making and Excel-chart planning, I’m just going to relax and enjoy what the next eight months have to bring. I will have to be a lot more intentional when it comes to enjoying this pregnancy, because its so easy to get carried away with the everyday goings-on of life. And seeing as this is most likely our last baby, I want to make every moment count.

The Philadelphia Fertility Project

 

I received an email last week from Hannah, a Masters student at Drexel University. She is working with the Women’s Health Psychology lab on an interesting study, all about why and how women pursue treatment for fertility problems.

I know there are a large number of you out there who have experienced infertility in some form, so I told Hannah I’d pass on the link to her survey. Check it out, participate if you wish, and let me know if you have any questions. Thanks!

The Philadelphia Fertility Project:
The purpose of this survey is to learn about the social, mental, and emotional experiences of women with fertility problems. It will take about 10 minutes to complete. Your participation is completely anonymous. Women who are between the ages of 18-45, not currently pregnant, and have difficulty conceiving naturally through unprotected intercourse and/or carrying a pregnancy to term are invited to participate in this study.

In appreciation of your participation, two $100 donations have been made to the American Fertility Association and Resolve: The National Infertility Association by the research team to thank you for sharing your experiences and to benefit others who struggle with fertility problems. If you have any questions about this study, you may contact the Principal Investigator, Dr. Pamela Geller, Ph.D., or the research coordinator, Mona Elgohail, at 215-553-7121. 
Click on this anonymous survey link to participate:
http://tinyurl.com/PhillyFertility

NIAW: Faith Through Infertility

In honour of National Infertility Awareness Week, put on by the incredible RESOLVE.org, I’m posting a few articles about our journey with infertility over the last 3 years. Though we have our precious little girl now, the dark days of infertility are ones that will forever be imprinted on our hearts and minds.

I don’t post much about my faith. And yet, it permeates everything I do and every moment of my life. When we first decided to start trying to expand our family, we prayed for God’s hand in timing. He had brought us through every other major event in our lives; why would having a baby be any different? I prayed that the baby would be healthy, that I wouldn’t have too much morning sickness, that our finances would be in order. I never thought to pray about actually getting pregnant.

Like so many other women, I just assumed that once we started trying, pregnancy would happen soon (if not immediately). At 22, I never expected to have any problems. Isn’t the whole point of high school health class to instill the fear of pregnancy in you? Look at a boy, and you’ll be knocked up before you can say ‘prom night’. And yet, here I was, married and ready, and the first pregnancy test I took was negative.

So I continued to pray for God’s timing. I continued to have faith that when it was supposed to happen, I would get pregnant. And, I continued to be convinced that any day now, the obsessive peeing on sticks would result in the positive I wanted so badly.

Though its easy to tell the world that you have faith, internally it is much harder to keep that faith when things don’t go your way. Though I told God that I trusted his timing, what I really meant was that I trusted that he would do what I wanted, when I wanted it. By the sixth month of trying without success, I began to lose heart. I grew frustrated that God was telling me ‘no’. I grew angry with people who told me ‘It will happen when it is supposed to’. And I grew increasingly more bitter with those who seemed to get pregnant by accident.

As the months dragged by, as doctors and nurses and reproductive endocrinologists insisted there was nothing really wrong with us, I turned to God again, demanding to know when exactly this baby would be given to us. After all, so many (well-meaning but ignorant) people I knew insisted that a woman’s sole purpose was to bear children. And yet, somehow, I was reassured that, despite our circumstances, we would be parents one day. It may be through treatments, it may be through adoption or foster parenting, but one day, we would have a child.

There are so many cases of infertility in the Bible. Sarah and Abraham were unable to conceive for decades; it wasn’t until they were both very old that they were granted a son. Elizabeth and Zechariah were barren, until finally an angel came to visit them, and John the Baptist was born. Rachel was unable to have children for a long time, until again God came through and gave her sons. But the most notable and heart-wrenching story (in my opinion) is that of Hannah. A complete view of infertility is given; we read about her hurt, her longing, her desperation. Haven’t thousands of infertile women made drastic promises to God? Haven’t many of us poured our hearts out in tears at the feet of our Creator? And Hannah’s words, when Samuel was given to her, are words that sustained me through my journey.

If these women could have children, despite the odds that were stacked against them, why couldn’t I? Isn’t our God the God of miracles? I had been shown so many times before that His timing was better than the timing I could have come up with on my own. A five year plan is only as good as your ability to see into the future. As I continued to pray, as I kept believing that one day we would have a baby, I realized that I was making motherhood my idol. I was literally worshipping the idea of being a mom; to the point where it consumed every waking moment of my life. I spent hundreds of dollars on books, supplements, appointments, apps, and research. The only time I connected with God was to insist he provide me with an answer to my infertility. And it was at that point that I realized my priorities were all wrong. J and I could be a family now; we didn’t have to wait for a baby. We could buy a house, we could start new jobs, we could go on vacations – there were literally dozens of memories to be made that didn’t involve a baby.

It was this healing, this realization that my infertility did not define me, that allowed me to move on. That allowed me to take some time away from my obsessive charting, temperature taking, and research. It allowed me to reconnect with J, and to restore my relationship with God. I focused on getting myself in a healthy place (mentally, physically, spiritually). And, in the truest sense of the word, I had faith that God’s plan for my life was better than what I could plan for my life.

And so, twenty three months after we began our journey, I stared down a positive pregnancy test. As I write this, three and a half years after that story began, my daughter is sleeping in her crib a few feet away. And whether you agree with me or not, whether your faith is intact or shattered, I believe that God’s plan is the best plan for our lives. This is not to say that if you are dealing with infertility its because God wants it that way. But he is able to work through that pain to accomplish miracles.

Resolve to Know More: NIAW 2014

When we decided to grow our family, neither of us thought anything about it. At 21 and 22, we assumed that fertility was on our side. But after a full year of trying to conceive (with nothing happening), we headed to the doctor, who promptly slapped us with the ‘unexplained infertility’ label and sent us along to a fertility clinic. It took another six months to finally get a diagnosis, and then several months more to get pregnant with Miss K. Explaining infertility to friends and family was incredibly difficult…and there are things I wish people knew about the disease that is infertility. In honor of Resolve’s National Infertility Awareness Week, I’m resolving to know more (and help others know more) about what infertility is, how it affects people, and when to seek help.

Though high school health class would lead us to believe otherwise, there is actually only a tiny window in which a woman can get pregnant each month/cycle. Taking Charge of Your Fertility, by Toni Weschler is the best resource I’ve found to explain exactly what goes on in the body (hint…chances are, you’ll learn something new). Statistics show that about 30% of couples get pregnant their first cycle trying, 80% are pregnant within six cycles, and 85% have conceived within a year. Once you hit that one year mark with no success, its smart to head to the doctor; a fertility specialist can run some tests to make sure everything is okay. If you’re 35 or older, doctors recommend only waiting 6 months, so you don’t waste valuable time. About 90% of all couples conceive naturally (a number that gives immense hope when you’re in the throes of infertility), while the remaining 10% will seek help.

So what exactly is infertility? At its very core, it is the inability to get (or stay) pregnant. Different time limits are placed on a diagnosis; most doctors agree that one year of trying without success is the starting point. All manner of syndromes, diseases and hormone imbalances can come in to play; males and females are affected equally, and over 25% of infertile couples have more than one factor contributing to their infertility. 25% of women’s infertility has to do with cases like mine, where ovulation is either irregular or absent. Infertility is much more common than we are lead to believe (and it gets swept under the rug all too often).

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week; a week where women (and men) all across Canada and the US call attention to infertility and advocate for themselves and others. Though I sit on “the other side” of infertility, I will always carry the memory of that pain with me. I have no idea what will happen in the future when we look to expand our family again, but I do know that I will never take for granted the wonderful gift we have been given in Kennedy.

To all of you still in the trenches, know that I am praying for you and thinking of you often. To those who have had an easy time conceiving, please remember that its not so simple for everyone. Your careless words and offhand comments can be painful and cut deep. And to those, like me, with miracle babies…keep on keeping on. We’re a tight knit community even still, and I love you all.

To learn more about National Infertility Awareness Week, Resolve, or infertility in general, click on any of the hyperlinks, and they’ll take you where you need to go.

One Year Ago…

November 28, 2012 (an excerpt from my journal):

Just when I thought I had Your plan all figured out, Lord, You change it and surprise me with something better than I could ever have imagined.

After 22 months of taking temperatures, counting days and wishing away weeks, after trips to the doctor, the naturopath and the fertility clinic, after giving up control of the situation and letting God take care of it all…after all of that…

I’m finally pregnant.

One year ago today, I found out I was pregnant. One year ago today, I started dreaming about the precious little bundle that I am now holding in my arms. I couldn’t have imagined the love that I have for her; I couldn’t have imagined what a perfect addition to our family she would be.

Though Kennedy is only three months old, in my mind, its a birthday of sorts. The first anniversary of our victory over infertility. The first birthday of our baby…not celebrated with cake or candles, but through a simple re-posting of a journal entry from that day. I can’t believe how far we’ve come in a year.

ICLW Welcome!

If you’ve stopped in for ICLW, welcome to my little corner of the Internet. The infertility/adoption/loss community has been so incredibly supportive, and I am thrilled to ‘meet’ some of you and hear your stories. I wish it could have been under different circumstances.

A little about me: I was married at 21, and when I kicked the hormonal birth control just after my 22nd birthday, I never dreamed we would have troubles conceiving. What 22 year old even thinks about infertility? After a year of trying on our own (charting, temping, OPKs), I headed for the doctor.

I was diagnosed with PCOS in spring of 2012, and told that losing 50lbs would solve my problems. Not willing to take this as my only solution (from a small town doc who didn’t know what to do with me), I sought naturopathic help.

After 23 months TTC, a 25lb weight loss, a ton of prayer and a whack of naturopathic supplements, I got pregnant in November of 2012. We welcomed our baby girl in August of this year, and I couldn’t be happier.

Though I’m on the “other side” of infertility, my journey sticks with me, and my heart breaks for those of you dealing with similar situations. I will always be a member of the ALI community, and am so grateful for the people I’ve met along the way.

So thanks for stopping by. Leave a comment, like on Facebook, follow on Twitter, or shoot me an email. I’d love to meet you!

PAIL Blog: Birth Stories (October’s theme)

The monthly blog-post theme on the PAIL Blog this month is ‘Birth Stories’. Not just ‘This is what happened, and then I gave birth’, but more specifically how our individual birth stories impacted our lives. While I’m still processing (its only been two months!), here’s what I came up with.

When I signed up for midwife care, I knew that I was signing up for a medication-free birth; or, at least, an attempted medication-free birth. At ten weeks pregnant, that seemed like a completely logical, completely attainable goal, and I didn’t give it another thought.

By twenty-five weeks pregnant, I had made my way through Ina May Gaskin’s Guide to Childbirth, and I felt empowered. Women had been having intervention-free births since the beginning of time, and as a woman, my body was created for just this purpose. I was calm, I was capable, and I was built for such a time as this.

By thirty-four weeks pregnant, I had completed my childbirth classes and hired a doula. I wasn’t just confident, I was prepared. I felt completely ready to use my breathing exercises, visualization techniques, prayers, and kick-ass birth playlist to rock this birth. I was ready to tackle labour head-on, and I didn’t give pain relief a second thought.

By forty-four hours into intense, gut-wrenching back-labour, I knew that all of the breathing techniques and Bible verses in the world would not help me through this. I knew that, despite being made to give birth, and despite all of my preparations, I could not endure one more minute of labour on my own. So began a cascade of interventions, and I delivered my beautiful daughter two full days after going into labour.

Do I regret my decision to request an epidural? Absolutely not. For me, it was completely necessary. I was so tired, so worn out, so emotionally sapped, that the pain relief (despite how brief) was the only thing that got me through. I don’t feel like I missed out on anything by not going med-free. I don’t see myself as less of a woman because I couldn’t manage completely on my own. And I have no regrets about the situation (except that I *may* have requested the gas a little sooner. And would definitely have brought along more bottles of Gatorade).

Though I have no regrets, though there is nothing about my labour I would change, it has had some lasting effects. I’m honestly researching PTSD, because the impact of the situation is that great. The idea of ever doing it again terrifies me. Thinking about another baby sends me into a spiral of anxiety. I have dreams about being in labour, and wake up horrified that its not over.

But then I snuggle my baby, and know that she was worth it. Every day with her is worth the forty one weeks and forty eight hours it took to get her here. Every day erases the sting of infertility a little more. And I know that I’m blessed to have this opportunity. I know that there are women all over the world who would gladly take my two days of labour if it meant that they had a little one of their own.

So I thank God instead of panicking. And I hug my girl a little bit closer, instead of getting carried away. And I know that everything is going to be all right.