It is hard for me to say I have a problem with infertility when I have 3 hardy, healthy boys. It is also hard to express what I am feeling when I am really not sure what it is... a little back story. And a little more.
The hubs and I married in 2005. I was 34 he was 39. Late bloomers. We had both had a marriage fail and one of the things that drew us to each other was wanting a family.
Nothing has ever seemed to come easy for me, except my first baby. My Noah. We got married, I had a hernia operation right after the honeymoon–(that sounds gross when I read it) and the next month boom–on Thanksgiving I took the test and we were on our way. I became anemic during the pregnancy and had a hard time bouncing back. I had a colicky baby that was allergic to my breast milk. It was rough. Noah taught me that motherhood means expect the unexpected. He taught me to give up my self and what unconditional love means. Never stop trying.
Three months after he was born, while nursing and on the pill, I became pregnant. I lost that one at around 5 weeks. 4 more miscarried babies and then my gallbladder started acting up. We planned to get it fixed and try again. 1 week after the surgery I found out I was pregnant. We were sure that with the anesthesia and trauma and whatnot we would lose this pregnancy. Well 8 months later Jonah was born. He was a good eater, sleeper and a happy baby….
There were 3 more lost babies after Jonah. I became pregnant in November of 2010. I made it to 12 weeks, thinking I was in the clear. We went for an ultrasound. I have come to know that when the tech doesn’t turn up the volume or turn the screen towards you…sorrow is soon to follow.
We were blessed with our third son last year, Eli. He is a joy and a balm for our heartache.
I felt blessed to have my 3 stooges. I really felt done, full, complete. I got an IUD placed 5 weeks ago. Erik and I were done. 3 sons is a fine number.
The Hubs went to Haiti for a medical mission and I went to visit my sister in Iowa. I was tired, I napped every day. I made steak, it smelled rotten. I cried…a lot. I got home and took a test–it was positive! Yeah +.
I took out the IUD and waited for the Hubs to get home. I wanted to slap him and hug him.
I can’t keep up with these 3 boys. I am tired. It is HARD to have a baby at 40…How can I do this at 42?
I am going to need a wet nurse, housekeeper, nanny and my friend Cherie to knit me a sling to hold my Who-Ha, cause Eli was 10 pounds and the old gray mare just ain’t what she used to be.
I was scared, mad, confused. I was not happy or grateful. I was fearful.
I fb instant-messaged the hubs in Haiti. I couldn’t carry this alone. He was happy. He felt blessed. I know.
We started planning. Bigger car, bunkbeds and we talked about names. Levi, Gideon, Samson…hey–we are on a roll, we gotta keep with it. We can’t name a baby Kevin when you got these old school Old Testament names.
We told the boys. I wish we never did.
I went to the OB last week. A new one. Nobody gets it. I have a history. I am unique.
Ultrasound. Yes, gravida 16 para 3. That means 13 losses. 3 live births. We are talking Duggar numbers here.
I take a deep breath…then, I know. The Ultrasound Tech types and moves the probe and never lets me hear. I know.
She tells me someone will be right in. I know. I know.
A stranger tells me…”I have no good news”. Why does this still hurt? Shame on me for everything I have felt. For everything I feel.
I leave the room with a report. “Non-viable 5 week 2 day gestation. Placenta >than 6 weeks, recommend follow up.” Really? I know.
I go to my car, I am sobbing. I start to back out and I hear a honk…..”Stupid B*&$h”…really?! Apparently I was not backing up fast enough for another driver. I pull around to his truck, I yell, “I just found out I have a dead baby inside me…give me a break!”…he looks scared. He should be. Not my finest moment.
I want to rewind, I want to hide. I hate un-telling the news. I am mad, numb, sad, relieved. I feel guilty for feeling guilty. I come home and….and it is time to get to work. Hubs is between shifts, my men need dinner and baths and attention. I stumble thru my chores. I have too much life around me to stop and mourn the loss of this one. I know all the right answers. I know this is not the end of this soul, just the beginning. I know I need to be nice to myself. I know my body is pregnant still. I know. I know.
So here I am today. I have to deal with the loss and the losing. I have to do dishes and laundry and plan a birthday party. I am mad at everyone and everything. I want to hide. I can’t even shower alone.
It may seem ridiculous, insensitive or even inflammatory to speak the words out loud that I am thinking. I know there are some women that have had loss like I, yet have never been blessed with tiny toes and boogy noses and frogs and toads. I was mad to be pregnant again. Shame on me. I can’t imagine your pain. I am sorry for your loss.
People say silly things, dumb things, cruel things sometimes. Yes, I know what causes this, Yes, I know about birth control, Yes the Hubs and I are looking for a permanent solution to our “fertility” problem. Try navigating this problem with Dean insurance and while working for a Catholic Health System.
Here I am today, no heartbeat in my womb and a broken heart in my chest. No answers to questions. No solution to my problems. No escape from reality. I have to go–the baby is pushing out the window screen and may fall outside onto his noggin again while the oldest is using the bug vacuum on his brother’s forehead.