Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord

I've wanted to write this post for years.  It just wasn't the right time until recently.  I'll come back to why--for now let me power through the long and the short of my "fertility journey".  (Super cheesy phrasing, sorry.)

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I got married, sat around for a year, had a miscarriage, and promptly had a baby after.  I've wanted to be a mom for as long as I remember--more so than the religious upbringing I had can account for.  So when I found out I had stage IV endometriosis and humungous cysts on my ovaries, I was more than a little crushed.  As I slogged through three laparoscopies, a round of Lupron, and a number of very early miscarriages, I started to feel desperate in my hope to have more children.  I was grateful we had Adia, but wanted her to experience the wonderful sibling companionship I had enjoyed my whole life.

When Adia turned 2 and I still wasn't over the effects of the Lupron, I read a magazine article about adoption.  And it hit me: there was more than one way to have a child.  So we dived whole-heartedly into the adoption community, attending meetings of the local agencies support group and basically remaking our apartment as we prepared to be certified.  Aunt Flow re-instituted her monthly visits, but we were in a whirlwind of excitement about adoption.  In the midst of all this, I woke up a little early two days before Christmas and realized my period had yet to arrive.  I dug through the toiletries in the bathroom and found an old pregnancy test.  Lo and behold, it was double-lined.  And with that, we found ourselves expecting our second daughter. 

Despite her subsequent birth (on the first day of graduate school classes, no less), we figured that we wouldn't be able to have any more children and continued our involvement in the adoption support group.  I became the secretary and attended the monthly meetings, even helping put together some of the quarterly activities for the families involved.  And what should my wondering eyes see when Sedona was just a year old, but another positive pregnancy test.  I must admit that I had had forewarning and felt like I would get pregnant 2 months before.  (God has been so good to me in that way--He knows I don't transition well and has often give me a little heads up when big things are afoot.)  Well, attending the adoption group was starting to get awkward, especially when I got to the end of the pregnancy.  And was able to nurse this third daughter full-time (a first for me).  It only got worse when I got pregnant AGAIN with daughter number 4 just a couple months after weaning number 3.  Along the way, I had yet another endometriosis-related operation that ended up removing an entire ovary.

Somewhere during those early years, Derek gave me a blessing and told me that when I had more children (note the plural), it would be because of the faith and prayers of my family members.  To this end, we invited our family to pray and fast for us multiple times as we tried for more babes.

Well, we sort of stopped attending the adoption group.  After all, our hands were full with toddlers, and preschoolers, and babies bouncing around.  And we felt done.  Some extended family members told us how sorry they were that we had only girls.  Derek & I relished it and I loved to see him fixing their hair on crazy Sunday mornings.  It was fun to buy matching dresses, and see the varied personalities and looks that each successive mini-woman had.  We graduated from grad school and moved when #4 was a year old, and settled in to our new home.

Not long before moving, I told Derek that I didn't think we were done yet.  He confessed that he thought we weren't either, but he was scared to be the first to say something.  After all, pregnancy wasn't easy for me, and nursing even harder.  When we talked after #3 and had the same realization, I cried.  Fancy that--crying about having kids so close together!  But this time, I felt at peace and figured we would probably have the next one in a year or so.  Then the months and finally a couple of years rolled by.  And then I had another miscarriage.  So I decided I should go at least talk to an OB/Gyn and get an opinion on the miscarriage. 

It was a good thing I did: I discovered a minor genetic mutation that affected how my blood clots (compound heterozygous MTHFR positive, and I'm not going to tell you what profanity helps me remember the order of the letters on that gene).  It wasn't a full-on clotting disorder, but it did mean that I was a really super, amazing clotter.  Let's just say that they got frustrated at me for clotting up the lines whenever I went to donate blood.  This mutation was probably the cause of my early miscarriages: likely implantation failure.  So I started baby aspirin right away on my OB's advice.  Then I got pregnant with numero cinqo, a bouncing baby boy!  That one stuck and we all enjoyed his advent into our family.  Five little mamas that boy has, and spoiled rotten to prove it.

While I was pregnant with Dade, I again had a strong feeling that we weren't done yet.  I did a mental double-take and pushed the thought away.  That pregnancy was particularly difficult, and the first three months after were living hell (H1N1, lice, and then the baby got a broken femur!  and then we all got strep, including the adults and the baby!  and they said that babies can't get strep!).  So when he was nearly a year old and again had that feeling that we were to have another kid, I sort of freaked.  But those strong impressions kept coming and I would look around the dinner table with our whole family present and feel a physical pain because someone was still missing. I decided it was time for me to have more faith and put my trust in God that things would work out as He planned them.  Hopefully that included moving somewhere closer to family members so I could have a larger support network the next time around. 

Well, the move happened.  And then hot flashes/cold sweats started happening.  And menstruation changes really started happening.  So when Dade was 2, I went to my PA and asked her to do a hormone test.  No one was surprised that my estrogen levels had dropped radically.  I wasted no time in picking out a fertility doctor (a seriously cool benefit of working for a Mormon university is that they cover A LOT of fertility treatments. ya baby!).  They gave me the expected news that I was perimenopausal (at age 35), almost assuredly because of the loss of that one ovary a decade ago.  My body noted that I didn't have very many eggs, so it was time to start shutting down the shop. 

Two important things happened here: first, I found out that I was supposed to be taking baby aspirin and that I would need to take one low-dose aspirin every day for the rest of my life.  That tiny little compound genetic defect brought with it increased risks of cardiovascular disease, Alzheimer's, and Type II diabetes, as well as the risks of early pregnancy loss. The second thing I found out was that I really wanted another baby.  My "baby" was growing up and I was starting ogle the little chubby cheeks around.  I was sort of surprised by this--after all that we had been through: bad health, grad school, debt, moves, etc., I thought I would forever feel burned out of babies and ready to move onto the next stage.  A crazy thing happened instead--I was ready to move onto having teenagers AND wanted to have another wee one.  (Maybe this kind of crazy is another symptom of the genetic defect.  Or at least some kind of genetic defect...  :) 

 

So a year and a half ago, I started doing fertility treatments.  It was easy at first just taking the Clomid (until I started getting the dark spots in my vision, a particularly common side-effect).  But after a few months, the Clomid wasn't effective anymore.  So I took a month off, and moved to daily belly shots of Bravelle and added IUI to the mix.  After 6 months of this, I felt a lot of disgust and decided I was at least temporarily done for the summer.  It was a lovely summer, this past one, because I didn't have the hormones screwing with my emotions and I felt like I got my brain back.  (Anyone else get a little flaky on those high doses of fertility drugs?)  Fall came, and I felt like I should give it one more try.  So I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, said a lot of prayers that I wouldn't turn into a raging ball of psycho at such a busy season, and started yet another round.  I told God that I thought I had 2-3 more cycles left in me, and then I was going to have to be done with the process.  After all, it was costing me at least $400/month in medications and copays.  That wasn't counting the time & travel expended on several visits a month.  At least Dade enjoyed going, especially when they would show him my "rainbow blood" on the ultrasound monitor of my uterus...  :)

 

The feeling every month when they call and you know that you aren't pregnant but are still holding out a little hope?  Crushing is a vast understatement, but very apt.  On the one hand, you hurt so bad, and feel so frustrated.  On the other hand, you don't want to make those around you feel too awkward or uncomfortable.  And you still have a lot of roles to fulfill, most importantly that of mom.  I have to give kudos to Derek for giving me space to work some of those feelings out--I took a number of "mommy-alone dates" to Smashburger at the end of the month this past year.

This month is my last cycle.  I'm ready to be finished with the whole process one way or another.  I feel like I've done what was required of me.  I don't know if it was for me to show my willingness to obey, or to develop faith, or to realize that I actually wanted another baby, or something entirely unrelated.  Last week as I was laying on the proverbial cold table after my IUI, I had a good talk with one of the medical assistants at my doctor's office.  I'll admit it--I'm really going to miss seeing those ladies so much.  I feel like I've made some super amazing friends.  They've been my cheerleaders every month, being positive and rooting for me to become pregnant.  Never once did they tell me I already have 5 kids and why bother trying for even more?  In fact, as my MA told me, everyone in the office really, really wanted me to get pregnant this cycle.  I guess word had spread that I was on my last cycle.  My MA asked again if I would consider IVF.  ($7000/cycle=the new roof I need=not possible on the current salary.)  I told her that I would be willing at this point (I was not at all at the outset of this experience), but that the cost was too prohibitive.  And when she left me alone for those few minutes after the IUI, I had an wonderful feeling come upon me.  I had people rooting for me.  I felt so loved and realized that if I never did get pregnant, I had gotten to know some amazing women and learned so much from these experiences.  And as loony as it sounds, that is enough for me right now.  I'm sure I will continue to grieve for the future I had perceived initially if I don't ever have another little one, but I will also know that I did get something pretty grand from those I met and the stories I've heard.

 

Have you heard the joke about Mormon weddings?  Instead of the bride being pregnant, the mother-in-law is.  Maybe that will be me someday.  I guess I don't really know what the future holds.  I still feel like I will have a baby--a blessing from Derek, my dad, and my brothers assured me that the time was coming soon.  Visits in the temple have confirmed those words.  Whatever the case maybe, I'm SO glad for the people around me and the love I have received on this journey.  Cheesy as it is, it's been everything to me in this vulnerable, emotionally-draining situation.  I've felt like I've been working harder to be a better parent, and follow the Lord's teachings during this time, and redeveloped an atrophying relationship with my Heavenly Father.  And if I do get pregnant, I will definitely see it as the miracle it is.  Because even with the interventions of science, and the statistics that tell me I should be able to get pregnant having carried 5 babies to full-term, there is no question that I will only get pregnant when the Lord decrees it. 

Random related thought: ever since I helped a friend with her triplets in grad school, I've been a little nervous that I would one day have multiples.  I guess that is especially possible at this point.  If it comes down to it, Lord, I'd really prefer twin girls.  Heaven knows we have enough arms in the house ready to hold twins of whatever gender, I guess.  And while I'm putting my order in, could you please make sure they are not due at Christmas.  That's a hard time of the year to have a birthday...