What’s that random number you ask?
One thousand, eight hundred, and forty-two
That is how many days have passed since we first trying to conceive a baby brother or baby sister for Nick. In case you don’t want to do the math, counting back that will put you on January 10, 2007. Nick was exactly 2 months old. I have been to 4 different doctors and 1 specialist on this journey so far. I can’t even tell you how many times I have had blood drawn, ultrasounds done, or medication prescribed (both pills and at-home shots).
The question of “do you plan on having more children” breaks
my heart; the reply of “are you pregnant” anytime I am sick or emotional
plagues me down to my soul. Learning of
a friend or family member who is newly pregnant feels like a sword to my soul.
Hearing about teenagers or other mothers who simply don’t want the baby, or of
abortions or neglected children is enough to make me cry for days. There are
very few people who even know of this trial. It isn’t something you advertise,
having {gulp} infertility problems. It’s not something I can control, it’s not
hereditary or because of something I have done. It’s not because of my weight,
height, age… nothing. It’s not because I am ‘trying too hard’ as I have heard
often from people who think they know it all. My ovaries simply don’t release
the eggs it matures every month. Seems
simple enough, right? Wrong.
I had all but lost hope. By not ovulating, I put myself at a
very high risk for ovarian and uterine cancer. The only “cure” is to force menstruation;
the only way to do that easily is to take birth control pills. For those of you
who can’t put it together, birth control pills prevent pregnancy… the opposite
of what we want here. They also make me a colossal witch, my skin break out
like a middle schooler, and cause more pain than a normal person should have to
deal with.
We recently got health insurance for the first time since
moving to Tulsa, so I decided it was time to get checked out. I had pretty much
decided to just let him put me back on birth control pills because I was done. I
wanted to keep trying, but I didn’t think I could keep going. I can’t even
begin to describe to torture you put yourself through
every.single.day/month/year going through this. It is an internal battle I have
every day, between my head and my hormones and ovaries.
Upon meeting the new doctor, and hearing him talk, I changed
my mind. He said I was a prime candidate for a certain treatment. He was very
hopeful for the future. He was nice and friendly, while still maintaining his
professionalism. Unlike most doctors, he spent more time learning about me and
my past than he did telling me things I need to change or that I have done
wrong. While I am still very apprehensive about going forward, I am gaining
some unidentified strength that I can only credit to God’s grace.
So here’s to the future. We shall go on with a new treatment
and see what is in store for us. I am scared, but hopeful. If you would join our family in prayer over this situation, we would greatly appreciate it.
For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.
Matthew18:20
This song by Jeremy Camp is called Overcome; it has helped me in more ways
than I can count. Give it a listen, and have a blessed day.
