Fertility War: Results

It's taken a few weeks and prayers to gather my thoughts. But here they are.

As you know, either by experience or by reading my rants, infertility is expensive; emotionally, physically, and especially financially. There are always little things that seem to add up and the quest for a child can get a little old when so much of it is focused around money.

About a week after our fourth IUI, we begrudgingly found our bank account with almost nothing in it (thanks to fertility treatments, appointments, and medications). Seriously, I had never seen that number lower in our whole marriage. As we discussed our finances, or lack there of, we realized we still needed to pay our tithing for our church.

We had been counseled and taught what we needed to do, but the reality on surviving the rest of the month with $23 seemed a little daunting. We reasoned with ourselves that the Lord would understand if we didn't pay this month; we were going through a really hard time, after all.

But I kept feeling that our faith was being tested; a lot more than usual. So, we handed the check to the Bishop. And ate Mac and Cheese for the next few weeks.

We prayed to be blessed with the righteous desire of our hearts: a child.

Weeks went by. About two days before my pregnancy blood test, I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake at three am. I was begging myself to sleep, but my hypersensitive brain kept me alert when mild, but very real cramps started.

I was all to familiar with these twinges and resigned myself to another failed IUI. Uninvited tears rolled down my face as I pondered what we were doing wrong and why this just wasn't working.

We were, in all aspects possible--physically, spiritually, and emotionally-- doing our part to make this happen. I was taking homeopathic meds, for goodness sake. Me. Taking medicine not approved by the FDA!

I had the blood test done and left a message at the doctor's office stating something like, "I'm at work right now, so just leave me a message. I know it's negative."

Someone left a message about an hour later. I dialed my voicemail mechanically, typed in my password, waiting and fully expecting to hear the words I had heard three times before from my doctor's office and countless other times from mother nature, "I'm sorry. You are not pregnant."

The woman on my voicemail, however, said a phrase I was not familiar with: You're pregnant.

I nearly dropped my phone as my eyes welled up. I listened to the message again, sure they had accidentally given me someone else's message and HIPAA had been violated to the fullest. Nope, she said my name and everything.

It finally worked.

I found my mind reeling with questions and fears. I was cramping, although mild, that still made me nervous. I didn't feel pregnant like I had with my first. I felt unprepared, even though the dream of being pregnant had consumed my life for years. I felt scared. Unsure. And terrified of miscarrying again.

Since we were both working, I sent Ben a text with the news. I waited for a response. Finally, his words came through, "Wow. How are you doing?"

There was no staggering excitement or naive presumptions that a pregnancy always brings a baby.We had been here before and, while we felt bad that we didn't rush out and buy a crib or tell all our friends, we knew better. As sad as that sounds, we were all to familiar with loss and didn't let ourselves feel the full impact of the news.

We didn't even really talk about it for the first couple days.

Now, don't get me wrong, we were so happy. So grateful to have this wonderful gift of life inside me. And we were excited. Guardedly, but still excited at the chance to be parents.

Due to the cramping, I had my hcg levels checked again a few days later. They were trending up and normal. We sighed with relief.

We went on about our lives and I continued to have cramps almost on a daily basis. I tried to put the thoughts of losing this baby out of my head and focused on taking care of myself, as that was the only thing I could control. I felt helpless, but tried to shove the doubt out of my mind.

A few days later after a long shift at work, I noticed I had some light pink, blood tinged stuff in my underwear. I panicked and my mind went unwillingly to three years ago in Italy where I nearly bled to death in a hotel shower and lost our first baby. My gut tightened, tears started to flow, and I started to ready myself for another horrifying and emotionally scaring miscarriage.

I told myself to be brave. I knew I could do this. Whatever happened, I'd be okay. The Spirit confirmed my thoughts, taking away my panic and replacing it with strength.

The next day the doctor told me that cramping and some bleeding can be normal. While I was a little relieved, I was getting worried that all my concerning symptoms could be normal. What the heck was normal? My only reference was my first pregnancy which seemed totally healthy and normal, but wasn't.

Even though doctor assured me spotting can be normal, I insisted I have my hcg levels drawn again. I felt like an addict, just wanting one more hit. One more assurance that our baby was still hanging on. While blood draws stink, and the path to my veins are full of scar tissue and require a fair amount of digging, I found myself wanting to have them daily just to calm myself.

I was about five weeks along and my level was about 13,000--normal and healthy. Relieved for another day, I patted my stomach and mentally encouraged our little peanut to hold on. For mommy, please hold on. 

I continued having the occasional spotting and cramps more than I would like, but tried not to think about it. I held on to the fact that I was still pregnant and numbers were good. I received a few comforting blessings from Ben and tried to wait patiently for our seven week ultrasound.

The day of the ultrasound finally came and I met Ben at the Fertility Center. I sat anxiously on the familiar exam table in silence. My thoughts went back to the last time we waited for the sight of our little one and were sorely disappointed to see no baby and a yoke sack collapsing on itself. Dying.

Stop. It. I thought. It's going to be fine.

The sonographer came in just in time to interrupt my thoughts and started the ultrasound. I peered at the screen and didn't blink as the image of my uterus came into view. A few seconds later, a little peanut of a baby appeared--with an adorable head and limb buds and everything. The only thing better than seeing that beautiful little piece of life was hearing it's strong, rhythmic heart beat. Best, most comforting sound ever--heroine for the ears.

Ben reached for my hand and we both cried for joy. I wanted to freeze that moment--hold on to the fact that there was a life inside me and I was a mom. I felt like a mom. It is happening. I wiped my eyes quickly as to not miss a moment of seeing our child.

For the first time, we left the Fertility Center happier than when we came in. The years of pain, heartache, and expense seemed to melt away. Sure, I still remembered what we had been through, but the bitterness had eased. It's amazing how seeing your child can totally set all the wrongs right and soften a heart you thought was going to be a solid rock forever.

I stared at the ultrasound picture all the way home and thanked the Lord for our miracle. For blessing us in our trials. And for changing my heart.

I am almost 10 weeks now and the ultrasound today showed a very active baby growing and thriving inside me. Yes, we have a long way to go, and June is way too far away. It's early and there is still a lot that could happen.

But...

I'm sharing because life is precious and should be celebrated. Any life, for any length of time, is a miracle.

It is so worth the war. And I would fight again.

7 Weeks