Out of these Ashes, Beauty will Rise

Some times in life things don’t go our way or how we planned them to go.  I’m sure each and every one of us have heard this and likely said it ourselves at some point in life.  While we all have to deal with disappointment and heartache, we hold on to the thought that things will get better….and they do.  It’s the time in between and waiting that can be such a killer.  Some of us are luckier than others and things just fall right into place exactly how we would like them.  Well for me that would not be the case.  While this is not my typical blogging topic, I feel the need to share and be brutally honest and transparent.  You do not have to read it or agree with me sharing something so personal, but I feel the need to do this and being that this is my blogging domain I can write whatever I wish. 

I have dreamed of the day I would become a mother since I can remember.  I have had the best mother to show me what a selfless mother is and have provided me the opportunity to see, feel, and know what unconditional love is.  Perhaps it is because I have five siblings, four of which are younger than I am that I have always had a heart for children.  I have babysat since I was 12 years old all the way through high school.  Once I hit college I took up summer jobs at a daycare and even worked at a daycare during the school year connected with our college.  I’ve traveled to Honduras three times to work with orphan children at an orphanage and loving on them is pure heavenly.  During college for a whole year, Brian and I volunteered once a week running an after-school program at a local women’s and children’s shelter.  It comes with no surprise that I graduated with a teaching degree for I absolutely just love children.

It was shortly after Brian and I got married that I was diagnosed with PCOS, polycystic ovarian syndrome.  I shrugged it off, did a lot of reading up on it, and thought ok this is fine we can still get pregnant on our own.  I dealt with the weight gain and lack of periods and held onto the thought that we could do this unassisted like everyone else around us seemed to get pregnant.  Little did I know our battle with infertility started to rage.  After a few months we finally saw a Reproductive Endocrinologist  at the start of January and she ordered a battery of tests for both myself and Brian to rule out other infertility issues.  It was only the PCOS I had to blame and the doctor said with my symptoms chances of us getting pregnant on our own was near impossible.  She gave us the low down on the beginner fertility drugs that pretty much are low dosage and just kick start your body and off we went.  I thought ok simple, do some blood work, take some fertility pills, do the “deed” on the projected days, then bam I’ll join the “I’m pregnant club”.   I can honestly say I have never mentally battled with anything so strong before or had my faith shaken so much. 

                Infertility is one of those things people just do not discuss.  I’m not writing this for pity, but to record my feelings to look back upon and to educate others.  After reading pretty much everything on the internet and seeing statistics I specifically remember walking through the mall looking around wondering how many other women are battling this secret monster.  This secret monster that simply just consumes your whole being.  1 in every 6 couples deals with infertility, yet why do we struggle so silently?  Why is there so much shame that we keep hidden inside of us that we only share with only a few chosen people?  12 months of trying to conceive must be done before someone is considered to be infertile.  12 long months of battling with the feelings of inadequacy and defeat.  It can be so isolating at times that even your spouse cannot understand your distress.  Each pregnant person that passes you just makes your stomach fall to the floor.  Every time you hear someone say they didn’t want to become pregnant you just want to smack them.  That big green giant is always in the room when you see a newborn baby.  Each baby shower invite causes you to choke back tears, tears of frustration and personal failure.  You beg to be that new mother in the store wearing sweatpants with her hair pulled up and dark bags under her eyes failing to juggle her newborn in the car seat, the baby bag, the shopping cart, and on the verge of tears.  Before I would have looked at her and thought I’ll never be like that, but here I am now wishing to be in that position.

 I began to worry as I read real life horror stories of women trying for 3, 5, even 10 years to become pregnant fearing maybe I would be part of that club.  I think it is important to share my uphill experience dueling with this monster.  I am a rather transparent person and put everything out there and feel that infertility is something that should be spoken about more often.  Sharing my experience I’m sure others can relate and will not feel so alone.  Everything in your life is shaken up and all your prior accomplishments dwindle into nothing as you find you have never ever wanted anything more than to be a mother.   As we did our first and second round of fertility drugs I became an expert cycle day counter.  Things I never thought it was possible to know about oneself, I learned.  If anything, this whole experience has made me more aware of my body and self than ever before. 

It was on my second round that I just knew and few weeks later on April 24^th and we rejoiced and jumped for joy when we got those two pink lines.  This was it.  I would not be that woman waiting 2 years for baby number 1.  2 months of fertility drugs and the first time the pill dosage had actually worked and bang I was pregnant.  Our first ultrasound was exciting and we saw a heartbeat.  Our hearts were fleeting and I joined every phone baby app out there yearning to learn everything I could about this tiny little being growing inside of me.  I worried a lot about miscarrying but as each week went by I could see us closer and closer to that safety net of 12 weeks.  We waited a few weeks from when we knew to then share the news with our direct family.  We told my family first being that we see them more often due to living close by.  Everyone was excited and the planning for the future started.  It was on Mother’s day that we told Brian’s mom and brother and all were elated.  I received my first Mother’s Day card and cried at the thought that next year I was going to be a mother holding my bundle of joy.  I was on cloud nine as we started planning on the nursery, circled my supposed due date on every calendar we had, started to gear our lives towards parenthood. 

Then it happened.  We had a major scare as I started to bleed near the end of May.  Had an ultrasound the next day and our little bean was still ok and heartbeat was strong.  It was a major kick to the gut and a major scare but the bleeding subsided.  I had another appointment set for my 9 week mark the last week in May and it was there that on the screen showed no longer did our baby have a heartbeat.  What was once a little person taking form just looked like a big blob now.  Before they even told me I knew.  My first thought after I knew went straight to scripture, He giveth and He taketh away.  Why that would flash through my mind is beyond me, yet it gave me a moment of comfort before the tears began to fall and my heart smashed.  My faith right there and then was shaken more than it ever has been.  I have dealt with loss before but never something like this.  I was blessed my mom came with me to the ultrasound, as Brian had to work, as otherwise I would have never made it home and her words were the only comfort around me at that time.  My life seemed to be caving in and I thought to myself surely this is all just a terrible dream.  Drastic choices had to be made and it was all a blur.  In one whole day I found out we lost our baby, found myself going into surgery, then back out and at home laying on the couch wondering how this all happened. 

The days after surgery I mourned heavily for our loss.  Loss of this child.  Loss of all those plans we had.  Loss of the excitement.  Loss of all those dreams I had for this child.  Loss of everything.  I could hardly get out of bed and my eyes were so red and physically hurt, this was raw pain.  Bitter tears ran down my face from morning until night.  I was angry and questioned God more than ever.  Life was just not fair.  I had done everything right, I played the game fair and did all the right things.  I stayed away from caffeine, took those fishy prenatal pills, exercised, got enough sleep, ate healthy, I did it all yet my all was not enough.  I wanted this baby unlike those teen moms and other woman who unexpectedly find themselves pregnant.  I questioned God how I could struggle so much to get pregnant then when the time came to rejoice and be happy all of it was cut short.  Life truly had become a balancing act.  There were even times I thought to myself I just wanted to get in my car and run away, somewhere, anywhere, just get out of here and get away from everything I was dealing with.  I was desperate to escape.  Brian was wonderful through the whole experience and I would never have made it through it without him and my family but everything felt cold to me.  No one could help me.  I know Brian struggled to comfort me while dealing with the loss himself, yet I was at rock bottom walking through a valley.  Sunlight came in morning yet my world was still dark.  My soul was hurt and scarred and the emotional toll at times felt too much to bear. 

I would look around me when we went out and thought these people have no idea what I am dealing with right now.  I wondered how many around me were dealing with the same thing, dealing with a loss.  Yet we walk around as if everything is perfect afraid to share our sorrows.  Going onto Facebook reading everyone’s happy cheery perfect life status’ I was in misery and just wanted to shout that life was not so happy and cheery.  Anything happy would just anger me more and cause me to become even more distressed.  My faith was shaken, stomped on, and thrown to the curb, yet I tried to remain faithful and remember He giveth and He taketh away.  How I could go into such mourning over something that only grew inside of me for 9 weeks is beyond me, but I did.  I loved that baby before I even knew I was pregnant.  This was the baby I prayed for.  This was the baby we struggled our first almost whole year of marriage for.  Life was not fair.  Surely I knew we would have the chance again to have a child, yet I mourned for this child and for us right now. 

After about three weeks I stopped crying.  I could start to see the light out of the dark place I was in.  I am not exaggerating when I say a miscarriage is a huge emotional and physical blow.  No one can even imagine the amount of loss unless you’ve be through the same unfortunate experience.  No words from others can take away the pain.  I formed a new appreciation for life and for other women who have been in that same dark place.  The rubble seemed to be falling to the side and I looked forward to trying again hoping to become pregnant again thinking it would ease the sting a bit.  It would not replace what could have been, but the pain of our loss would be met with joy once again.  I saw the RE again and was put on a wait and see.  I had to wait for my HCG levels to drop as they did at a super slow pace as I did weekly blood work.  May became June which led to July and then to August.  I felt myself slipping back into a dark place as I saw no end in sight.  Finally in August they were low enough so I had an ultrasound which found something in there and after told to take a medication and again more waiting. 

Now in September, 4 months after my miscarriage the second ultrasound shows the medication did not help and I needed the same surgery all over again.  Back to where I was at.  It was like living my whole miscarriage all over again.  Same exact procedure just different day and oh that’s right, after 4 months of waiting and waiting and waiting some more just to do this all over again.  The emotions flooded me again.  It honestly felt like a second miscarriage though I never had become pregnant during that 4 month span.  I could have been half way through a second pregnancy.  The “could have been’s” just consumed me.  I felt defeated as they wheeled me in the surgery room all over again.  The surgery ended up successful and we were then told to wait 2 months again for proper healing until we can begin our chlomid fertility treatment cycles and try again.

As I type all of this we are now in November and on the verge of starting our first chlomid cycle which will start at the end of November and carry into December.  We won’t know if this will have been a successful cycle until early January.  It has been 6 months since we miscarried and here we find ourselves right at the start like we were last January with fertility treatments.  Almost a whole year since we started fertility treatments, about a year and a half since we started to try.  Instead of holding a newborn at the end of December, like we should have been, we will be holding onto the hope that we get pregnant on this first cycle trying again.  It is exciting yet scary for what lies ahead.  It could happen for us quickly like our first pregnancy or it could drag on for months or even a year or more.  I have hope and a feeling that it will happen quickly, but that is yet to be seen.  While we wait, we will be starting foster care/adoption classes in January that we intended on doing anyways prior to our struggle with infertility.  We will continue the classes and process to become certified whether or not I get pregnant as this is something we agreed we wanted to do even before we were married.

 In the meantime, we continue to pray and hold onto the hope that it will happen again and our tears will be turned into joy.  As we wait and as everyone we encounter asks us that common question of when we plan to start a family, we will continue to half smile and look down at our shoes and gently answer “we’re working on it”.  Little do they know, behind that half smile, we are fighting an ugly battle for just that very thing.  Who would have thought a year and a half ago that same question that brought so much excitement then would now be robbed of the excitement and be replaced with a feeling of guilt and anguish?  The internal battle with infertility continues to rage but I refuse to let us give up and be defeated by it.  I refuse to walk around shamefully and silent.  Our ultrasound picture of our little bean sits framed on our fireplace mantel as a reminder of what we are fighting for and that we now have an angel watching over us.  We look to the future with open eyes and hearts and to that day we get those two pink lines again that our hearts have been longing for.  We know out of these ashes, beauty will rise.