I've been thinking about this post for awhile now. A long while, in fact. I considered starting a new, possibly anonymous blog in the hopes that maybe no one would see it. But I feel like I've been dishonest with myself and with others, and I need to just be more open about... life, in general I guess.
If you're reading this blog, then you probably already know that I'm pregnant. We're having a baby girl, and she is due on May 5. When we started telling people, one of the first things that many people asked was, "So was this baby planned?" or "Were you guys trying?" Even though I know that people mean well in asking these questions, I always feel like they are too personal for people to be asking (maybe because openness is not my strong suit.) I always give some vague answer about how planning is a funny thing, but that she was not unexpected, which usually satisfies people.
The truth is, we've been waiting for this baby for awhile.
Right after we got married, we wanted to have kids. We did not tell anyone about this because I already knew the responses we would get - "You're so young!" or "You need to finish school before you think about a baby" or "Enjoy the first few years of marriage before you start having kids." A lot of people told us these things even without knowing that we were trying for a baby, so I can't imagine what people would have said if they knew. So we started our life together in June with high hopes of expanding our family.
In December, I went in for a routine physical and asked about our chances of getting pregnant. The doctor (who I did not like) did a few yearly tests/exams that came back "inconclusive." She told me I needed to come back in. I switched doctors, went in for another physical in February, and had these tests repeated. The doctor called and said that some of my thyroid levels in my blood work came back high, and she diagnosed me with Hashimoto's - over voicemail. She sent in a prescription and told me to come back in April for more tests to see if the medication was helping.
Of course, I had no clue what Hashimoto's was, or even how to spell it, so I threw myself into research and consultation with Dr. Google. I learned a lot, and fast. One thing that I learned was that infertility was often a side effect when the Hashimoto's was severe enough. I had all of the signs - exhaustion, brittle hair, dry skin, irregular cycles, sluggishness, etc. I can't even explain to you how tired I was all the time. All I did was sleep. (Duh - I should have known something was wrong!) They had even tested me for endometriosis in high school via an ultrasound, but the Hashimoto's explained all of the problems I was having. So I started taking the medication.
Fast forward several months, and the medication still wasn't enough. In April, my dosage was doubled. In July, it was increased again. My doctor referred me to an OB in April, who told me to come back in July after my next blood draw. I was getting so frustrated and impatient - wasn't having a baby supposed to be a natural, easy, no-planning-required kind of thing? I was doing everything I could do - taking vitamins, being diligent about my medication, and monitoring my body temperature every morning. But my body wasn't cooperating. In May, we decided to apply for an adoption (probably prematurely, but 11 months seems like a long time when you're waiting for something). Plus, we had always wanted to adopt. So we filled out paperwork, paid the application fee, and waited.
And waited. And emailed.
Initially, we were accepted. But as we got further into the process (in July I think?) we were denied on the basis that we were too young. So I went ahead and made the OB appointment with little hope in hand, knowing how expensive/painful/embarrassing fertility treatments can be. Since my thyroid levels were starting to be in the normal range, the OB prescribed Clomid, a fertility drug. It wasn't too expensive, but the catch was that it could only be used for 6 months at a time. By the time you find the right dosage, you may only have a couple months of "trying" left before your body needs a break from the medication. But we went ahead with the lowest dosage, and then we waited again.
Let me pause here to say this - I had lost pretty much all hope at this point. In my mind, I could already see the Clomid being unsuccessful, leaving us with 2 options - waiting until we were older to adopt, or trying to scrape up enough money for whatever the next treatment option would be. (I tend to be pessimistic, so this was a normal thought process for me.) I was angry at God - why would He give us this desire to be parents if that wasn't in His plan? I was angry at people around me - people getting pregnant by surprise, people asking us about our plans to have kids, etc. I remember one day specifically when two couples from church told us that they would be having a baby - one through adoption (with 2 biological kids already) and one couple who was unexpectedly pregnant with their fourth. I could have screamed. But, I congratulated them both, knowing that a.) I should be happy for them, and b.) they were unaware of our struggles.
Finally, I reached a breaking point where I realized that God did not owe us this blessing. In fact, He didn't owe us any of the blessings we had already received. Instead, we owed Him everything, and I was not giving Him that. I decided to stop blaming God and start thanking Him for the great things He had done for me. No matter what, I was going to do my best to trust Him, knowing that He had my days planned already. It wasn't easy or immediate, but I made the conscious decision to follow Him in His plans.
When the day came for me to take the pregnancy test, I had no expectations whatsoever. In fact, I didn't even read the results right away. When I finally saw the positive, I was in total shock. I stared at it, then ran in and told Chris the great news. We were both thrilled. And surprised. And so many things. And thankful.
I'm not writing this so that people will feel sorry for us. In fact, I know that 14 months is not even really that long to try for a baby. I know of many couples who have been trying, unsuccessfully, for years and years. Our struggle was very short (and I was probably a bit over-dramatic in my impatience and anger). But the greatest thing that I learned throughout this brief struggle was empathy. I had always heard of people who "can't have kids" and honestly did not think much of it. I didn't realize what an emotional battle it can be, often leading to spiritual struggles as well. Plus, NOBODY talks about this stuff. And when it does come up, I don't think most people understand how difficult it is. I'm not pretending like a year of waiting and minor medical procedures makes me "get it" either. I can't imagine what it's like for people who are faced with long-term fertility struggles. But I think I have learned, even if just a little bit, to be more sensitive to those around me. I may never know what a person is going through, whether dealing with infertility or any other struggle, but I can be responsible for the ways I interact with that person.
I still don't know what it's like to walk such a difficult road for so long, but maybe my few steps along the road taught me something after all.
.JPG)
