Fertility, Pregnancy, and Babies

Fertility is what defines women in a sense.  We have been blessed with the ability to create and grow life.  Throughout history and around the world, even today, stigmas are attached to women with infertility.  In previous posts, I've alluded to fertility issues.  Today I want to talk about them.

I never ever imagined that I would encounter difficulty getting pregnant.  My parents had four kids in five and a half years!  After several years of marriage, Dave and I decided we were ready for children.  Fertility monitor in hand, I thought this would be easy.  Obstacle number one:  hypothyroidism.  My period stopped for several months right before we started trying.  A trip to the doctor and one blood test revealed hypothyroidism.  I thought, no big deal.  I'll just take this pill every day and everything will be fine.

Things weren't fine.  Since we were only in our mid-20s, no one wanted to talk to us about fertility issues.  After one year, we got referred to a fertility specialist.  Six months of tests, some incredibly uncomfortable, and two IUIs later we conceived Linus.  Along the way, I poured over the book, Taking Charge of Your Own Fertility.  I know how to chart my cycle and pay attention to changes in my cervix and fluid.  Dude, I could teach a natural family planning class.

Over the course of many months I became an expert on my own fertility issues. Going through fertility treatment I can now talk follicle size,  HCG numbers, motility and morphology.  Hypothyroidism is not just not getting a period.  It's weight that you can't lose, it's why I run a toasty 96 degrees in the morning and always have cold fingers and toes.  It causes the primary reason I can't readily get pregnant.  I have a luteal phase defect and don't make enough progesterone (the key ingredient in birth control pills that trick your body into thinking it's pregnant). It's why I had a miscarriage before conceiving Eileen and another miscarriage last fall.

Being a mother changed who I am as a person.  I am a better person because of my children.  My inability to readily conceive makes me feel like less of a woman.  I just try to remind myself that I am lucky enough to live in a time when there is medical help available.  Only 50 years ago, I would have been a barren woman, driven crazy by an inability to bear live children.  I have spent so many days in tears over infertility.  I am a person who likes to be in control.  I am a planner.  There is nothing more infuriating than not being in control of my body.  Sometimes I just want to tear my hair out and scream.  It's just not fair.  The Catholic Church's stance on fertility treatments makes me want to punch someone.  People who opt out of procreation should not get to dictate the terms.

Dave and I have always known we wanted a third child.  Dave and I were hoping that maybe by doing acupuncture and just taking the pill part of the fertility treatment, we could avoid an IUI.  When my body's cycle refused to cooperate after a few months, we revisited the fertility specialists.  They upped my dosage.  Unfortunately, my body responded too positively and I had FOUR follicles that were primed and ready.  I don't want twins, or triplets, or quadruplets, and reduction is not an option for me.  I practically had a panic attack in the doctor's office when they explained what was going on in the ultrasound. Apparently, at my advanced age (32, you're officially advanced maternal age at 34), the likelihood of those follicles resulting in more than one baby was high.   Another cycle gone and no baby.

I was ready to throw in the towel, but decided to give it one more try before taking a break.  My body didn't want to cooperate.  Repeated trips to the doctor and ultrasounds kept saying I wasn't ready.  Right as it looked like the cycle would be another bust, we were able to do an IUI, and then low and behold I was pregnant!  I was shocked.  Dave and I were so excited. Blood tests looked good and I was feeling okay.  I went in for an ultrasound the first week of October at 6.5 weeks.  I saw the gestational sac and yolk sac, but no fetal pole or heartbeat.  The doctor and ultrasound tech tried to reassure me that it's possible I was just slightly less along than we thought and told me to come back the next week.  This past Tuesday, with Dave by my side, we went to the doctor.  I knew as soon as I saw the ultrasound, 7.5 weeks and no baby.

I cried all day long.  I was just so mad and frustrated, with my body, with everything. I just wanted to throw something.  It's just not fair.

My two previous miscarriages were very early and incredibly painful.  I could only imagine what it would be like further along.  One of the hardest parts of miscarriage is that it's like a prolonged loss.  You feel like you are very slowly losing your baby. We made the decision to have a D and C. We went in Thursday morning.  Everyone was really nice and supportive, but I couldn't stop crying.  I'm grateful that they put me under during the procedure. Going into the procedure room was one of the scariest experiences of my life.  The benefit to doing a D and C besides getting it over more quickly, is that we will be able to possibly find out what caused the loss.

It's now a day later.  I'm not in too much physical pain. The percoset is nice.  The tears are flowing freely.  It's hard.  Yesterday I woke up pregnant and at the end of the day I wasn't, but there is no baby. It's such a profound loss.  Everyone has been so supportive and I feel very loved by so many people.  The kids don't know why mommy is so sad, why our friend, Emily, keeps babysitting them, why Grandma spent the night.  Having two living children makes the loss a little better.  I just want to hold them a little tighter.

My mom is here today watching the kids, giving me time to grieve.  Sobbing in front of the kids is no good.  It may seem weird to some that I am already blogging about it.  I started this particular blog post about fertility in general several months ago, but never published it.  For me, writing is very therapeutic.  I'm not good about talking about my feelings in person.  Writing lets me get my thoughts out.  Once they are out, they've been released and I don't have to carry the weight of them anymore. Writing about the miscarriage really does help take some of the pain away.  It no longer becomes my burden alone.

I'm not ready to give up on my dream of having a third child.  I know it will happen eventually.  Right now it is just all about healing--physically, mentally, emotionally.