After years of desperately trying to conceive, I was given the diagnosis of polycystic ovarian syndrome, or PCOS. We were told getting pregnant would be extremely difficult, near impossible without the help of medication. The situation soon became more dire when we discovered I wasn't even ovulating.
Things weren't looking good, and it began to wear on my emotionally, mentally and almost spiritually.
We didn't understand how or why we would have this struggle. We made the right choices in life at the right time it seemed. We met, fell in love, earned degrees, obtained good jobs and got married. We never gave our families grief, and we planned everything out carefully. Having a baby seemed like something that should come easy to those who were truly ready. Resentment would set in, but I would quickly remind myself that God always had a plan, so in that I (reluctantly at times) remained hopeful.
I took a series of medications for several months. One to induce my cycle, one to induce ovulation, and another to strengthen my uterine wall. I was eager to test and test and test because I just KNEW it would happen.
And it didn't.
We decided to take a break. It was too hard and I wasn't ready for specialist who would more than likely suggest IUI or IVF. We thought, maybe later, but not now.
When Summer almost came to an end we just settled in a new home, and I was looking forward to all of the new furniture we could afford to buy from month to month since we didn't see a baby in the near future. Before we could even buy our first piece, I was pregnant.
I had developed minor symptoms for a few days, soreness, and extreme fatigue to name a couple and thought a test wouldn't hurt. When I saw the two lines suddenly appear on the test, my heart began to pound. I immediately called my OBGYN for blood work and within a couple of hours it was confirmed, I WAS in fact pregnant.
We were elated.
A few weeks after we found out we were pregnant, and the blood work looked good, it was time to hear the heartbeat. We were able to see our baby, and listen to the heartbeat which was a bit slower than expected. Our doctor chalked it up to me being so early in the pregnancy so she recommended another visit the following week.
She estimated my due date for April 29, 2011.
As I lay on the table I was ready, not scared like the first time. In my mind I was thinking of the other moments that would soon come. More detailed sonograms, finding out the sex, decorating a nursery, baby showers and the list went on. When the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat right away, I was a bit concerned, but not much. We went to another machine, and nothing. I remember feeling frozen, I didn't have words. I found myself consoling the doctor who was in tears herself as she apologized over and over.
When we arrived home it was quiet. When it hit me I completely lost a grip on any strength I had left. I screamed, I cried, I threw things and began to get angry as I looked at the baby things I had already been given from family and friends. I broke baby hangers and threw onesies before I frantically began put everything back the way it was. Those things did belong to my baby after all who was still in my womb.
The next several days brought more suffering and a different type of pain when I decided to induce the miscarriage medically and not undergo a procedure. (Please note, it was confirmed that my pregnancy was already terminated by natural causes, the induction was to prompt the body to remove the fetus.) I can't really describe what happened the night I lost the baby physically, there are no words for it. I just know it felt like a cruel slap in the face. I went to the doctor the next day to make sure it was all taken care of, and thankfully it was.
We could move on, and began to heal our hearts.
We didn't talk babies too much after that. People told us over and over "At least you know you can get pregnant, or you can have another" That didn't help. (Don't ever say that, it doesn't help.) We wanted that baby, not to quickly replace it like it never happened.
This was in September.
On the 23rd of November I received a call from one of my pastors from my hometown. She asked if we were interested in adoption (originally we were, but it was so expensive and more complicated than we could handle at the time). She knew of a young mother who had just given birth weeks prior and was seriously considering adoption as she couldn't provide everything needed. There was not one, but two babies, baby girls who needed a mommy and daddy.
We desperately needed them.
We told our pastor we were very interested and to keep us informed. They told us to keep it in prayer and we did. On November 30th we were given the "okay" to contact a lawyer to get papers drawn up. It still didn't feel real. On the 3rd of December papers were signed, (I was cautiously excited) and on the 4th of December we celebrated our "gotcha" day and took our darling daughters home. I was thrilled, and scared to death.
We named them Mila and Lola and they have completely changed our lives. I wouldn't trade our situation in for the world because without the struggle, my faith wouldn't have been tested and strengthened, and we'd never have our girls.
We thank God for them daily, and we have committed ourselves to them and our new role in life with such enthusiasm. To this day, it has never been too hard, a burden, or negative in anyway. Our struggle helps us to further appreciate everything we have, especially our daughters.
We haven't given up on the idea of having more children, we know we can get pregnant, and one day we may have another, but for now, we are enjoying our girls and these moments with them. We're not planning to grow our family anytime soon but we are open to whatever God wills for our family.
He's done a pretty incredible job so far.