My journey through infertility…
There’s a 7-and-a-half-year age difference between my oldest and middle child. People often make comments about it such as, “did you mean to space them out so far apart?” or, “well at least you have a good helper” and my personal favorite, “oh wow, I don’t think I could have started all the way over!” What these people don’t know is that my children’s difference in age was not by choice. When my oldest son was 3, my husband and I began trying to have another baby.
I became pregnant with my first child just before our 1-year anniversary so naturally we assumed that getting pregnant again would be easy. Ever since I can remember, I’d always had problems with my menstrual cycles being abnormal. I’d had cyst on my ovaries and been placed on birth control as a young teen to try to regulate my cycle and prevent the cyst from growing. I stopped my birth control after being advised by my physician that it would take at least a year for me to get pregnant based on my history.
Well 5 weeks later, I was pregnant. So you can see how I just figured that this next go round would be the same way. Wrong! I was so unprepared for the emotional roller coaster that came with my failed attempts. And that’s exactly how I looked at it, MY failure. I mean I’m a woman. This is what my body is supposed to do. Besides, I’d already done it once before. What was wrong with me? Of course my cycle became irregular again which made the process even more emotionally draining. I’d go as far as being 4 days late and get super excited just to be let down by numerous negative pregnancy test.
Month after month I’d beat myself up about not getting pregnant. I was depressed, and so angry at myself. Others’ opinions didn’t seem to help either. People would say things like don’t you want your son to have a brother or a sister? You aren’t getting any younger, you’d better hurry up if you want another one. Sometimes I’d just want to scream at them in anger of their ignorance of my suffering. Other times I’d find myself going into the nearest bathroom to cry. I felt alone and broken.
My husband was hurting too. He wanted another child just as much as I did. And my son was too young to understand. All of his friends had siblings and he wanted one too. He often complained of being lonely and not having his own brother or sister to play with.
Everyday I got up in the morning and went to work with a smile on my face but all the while I was dying on the inside from the heartache of my infertility. After years of money wasted on ovulation and pregnancy tests, my OBGYN suggested taking medication which would force consistent ovulation. He said he almost always saw pregnancies within a few months of use. I began the medication and was super hopeful. I began having stomach issues which resulted in weight loss. While I am always happy to lose weight, I still was not pregnant.
After months of the medication with no success, he suggested a slightly invasive procedure that should also aide in fertility. I was really apprehensive about surgery. Outside of having my wisdom teeth pulled, I had never had anything done before. What if it didn’t work? What if they messed something up and made my problem worse?
I discussed it with my husband, and we prayed about it. Neither one of us felt comfortable with this option. But after serious prayer, I had such a peace about the entire situation that I can’t explain. I kept hearing in my spirit that I would have another baby at the right time and when I did, it would not be because of anything that another man did but because of what God did through me. And I believed it! So much so that I went back to my OBGYN and told him that the next time he saw me I would certainly be pregnant but not because of anything he had done. He just smiled and said he would believe with me but in the meantime I should strongly reconsider the option of surgery. My mind was made up and so was my heart.
Several months later on Valentine’s Day of the following year to be exact, my husband and I were sitting in church. They were having an alter call for people to come up if they wanted prayer. We’d never talked about going for prayer before about having a baby. It was embarrassing and also we didn’t want people to think we were having marital issues if we walked up to the front of the church together for prayer. That day something changed. We looked at each other and didn’t care what anyone else thought. He grabbed my hand and up we went. We told the man who was to pray with us that we’d been trying to get pregnant for 4 years with no luck. He prayed over us and then told us to find a few scriptures regarding fertility and place them in the room where we spent the most time. I put them on sticky notes in our bathroom and bedroom and would try to keep them in mind throughout the day. Again, this was Valentine’s Day 2016.
On March 4, 2016 I woke up to get ready for work like any other day. My husband was fumbling around in the bathroom and asked if I ever got my cycle? I hadn’t realized that I was 5 days late seeing as how my cycle tended to be irregular anyway. We agreed that I should take a test that I’d had in the drawer just to check. Neither one of us were necessarily expecting anything. We weren’t anxious this time either though. We both had such a peace that no matter what the results were, we’d be ok. I took the test and continued to get ready for work. A few minutes later we both happened to glance at the test sitting on the bathroom counter.
It was positive!
Two rose colored lines were present. We both cried and thanked God. That November I gave birth to our second son.
While I know this isn’t every women’s story, it is mine and it matters. It’s one of trial and faith. It’s one of perseverance and self-criticism. It’s one of hopelessness and healing. I learned so much about myself, my marriage and God’s love throughout those 4 years. I now understand that whether I have a baby or not, I am still complete and whole. I know that my husband loves me no matter how many children we do or don’t have. And I know that God is faithful beyond comprehension and will give you peace in the midst of your situation. As previously stated, I know this won’t be everyone’s story and some won’t necessarily have the endings that they’d hoped and prayed for. However, I hope that this does leave someone out there knowing that you are not alone, you are not damaged goods or incomplete as a woman, and most importantly, you are loved.