
Don’t Ignore The Heartache of Infertility.
When I heard that Resolve.org had a blog challenge on how to bring attention to infertility, I flip flopped on whether or not to participate. Let’s face it. I have made more than my fair share of comments on the subject. I have gone through the stages of grief and feel as though I have finally come to the acceptance phase of my infertility.
Why would I want to dredge this up again? Because it matters. Because there is hope. Because it is real. Because I’m tired of infertility being ignored.
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My Miracle Baby: Jackson Robert |
As I read back the posts during my early days of TTC, I am reminded of why I started this blog in the first place. I started it to rant about my issues getting pregnant. Rant about the people who got pregnant so easily. Rant about why this has to happen to someone like me. Rant about why infertility has to happen to anyone. Rant about how expensive the treatment is for a disease that affects 1 in 8 couples of reproductive age. My husband and I wanted to have a family right away and didn’t waste any time in getting started. While I didn’t think getting pregnant would be a piece of cake, I had NO idea how frustrating and heartbreaking it would be. We got pregnant quickly after just 5 months of trying, but it was a pregnancy that sadly ended in an early miscarriage. For the next 2.5 years we tried. Every month, the same empty pregnancy test. The same tears. The same frustrations. Not wanting to endure anymore infertility treatment, we started to come to terms that having a family may not be in the cards for us. In late January 2008, our prayers were answered: I was pregnant. Looking at how extensive my endometriosis is, we have no idea how or why we got pregnant. We don’t ask questions anymore. We just thank God every day for Jackson Robert, our healthy little miracle. 3.5 years later, I still stare at my son in wonder. Despite Jack’s adoration of little babies and my deep desire to have another, I was told in not so many words by my doctor: “You will not be able to get pregnant again.”
Even though I have accepted my fate, I have not forgotten. I have not forgotten about the loss, the anguish and the heartbreak. I have not forgotten how expensive infertility is and not just emotionally, but the pocketbook as well. 6 years ago, I was lucky to have even a small amount of infertility coverage on my insurance. It was enough to get through the basic testing. Enough for a few rounds of Clomid. Enough for a couple rounds of HCG shots. Today, my infertility coverage is ZERO. My husband and I actually joked that if we won the MegaMillions lottery that we would finally be able to afford to have another child. We could hire a surrogate and even genetically engineer the perfect daughter (yes, I still dream of what it would be like to have a little girl). Guess what, we didn’t win. Perhaps if we had caught the endo sooner… so many what ifs that are just too late.
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Our Miracle Babies |
I know I am not alone in my infertility battle and that makes me sad. It makes me sad that anyone else has to go though this agony. One of my dearest and oldest college friends has been beside me in the war against infertility. She suffers from PCOS and also requires expensive medical treatments in order to get pregnant. She has suffered multiple miscarriages. She miraculously was able to have one little boy, the same age as mine. It’s like it was meant to be. Like me, she has had to accept that she will only ever have one child. We will forever have to explain to the world why- a question I dread. We both agree that our miracle babies are more than enough for us and WE ARE BLESSED.
Deep in my heart, I really can’t let go of the thought of having another miracle baby. It happened once, it can happen again. Right? My goal this year was to at a minimum stop taking birth control pills that I have been taking to control the spread of my endometriosis. I am hoping that my weight loss will have helped. PRAYING that my weight loss has helped. The pills have been nothing short of awful. Mood swings. Breakthrough bleeding (yeah… TMI. Sorry..). Last summer following an ovarian cyst rupture (caused by none other than endometriosis) I am now down an ovary as it had to be removed so I know my shot at getting pregnant is low. My ongoing endometriosis makes it even lower not to mention the ridiculously high risk of miscarriage (upwards of 60%). The odds are not in my favor, yet I still dream of it. I still get jealous when I hear of anyone being pregnant, but at the same time, I still want to hear all about it. Talk about mixed emotions.
For National Infertility Week I am not going to ignore my infertility. I won’t hide. I’m going to scream to the world that it exists and tell everyone not to ignore it. I want to thank organizations such as Resolve.org for giving infertile couples hope that miracles do exist and for giving all of us who are infertile a voice to say THIS IS REAL and that other family planning options do exist. Is there something you can do? The answer is a resounding YES. Learn more about it. Support your friends that are suffering from infertility. Don’t try and tell them you understand if you don’t, so please make sure you educate yourself on the disease. Sometimes saying a simple “I’m sorry you have to endure this,” is enough.
Lastly, if you’ve stuck with me this long, I want to take a moment to remember my angel baby who I lost 6 years ago. Dear baby bean: My heart will never forget and you are always in it little one. I know you are there to watch over my earth baby and keep him safe. I will see you in my dreams, angel. This song is for you:
Daughtry, “Gone Too Soon”
Today could have been the day
that you blow out your candles
make a wish as you close your eyes.
Today could have been the day
everybody was laughin’
instead I just sit here and cry.
Who would you be?
What would you look like
when you looked at me for the very first time?
Today could’ve been the next day of the rest of your life.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.
I’m always asking why this crazy world had to lose
such a ray of light we never knew.
Gone too soon.
Would you have been president?
Or a painter, an author or sing like your mother.
One thing is evident,
would’ve given all I had
would’ve loved ya like no other.
Who would you be?
What would you look like?
Would you have my smile and her eyes?
Today could have been the next day of the rest of your life.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.
I’m always asking why this crazy world had to lose
such a beautiful life we never knew.
Gone too soon. You were gone too soon, yeah.
