I haven't said much on social media. Honestly, I haven't said much unless asked. It's not that we are not excited. We are ecstatic. It's because I'm more cautious. Cautious of what I say, and to whom, whether it is one I am aware of or not. And it has all come from my journey, where I have come from and where I have been over the last three years. I said I'd tell my story. There are so many parts and stages throughout, that I don't know where to begin. I could go all the way back to my pregnancy with Cutter, where it began but I have no true idea.
I've always had issues with progesterone. For some reason, my body did enough to appear regular, but apparently, not enough to be able to get pregnant on my own. After trying for about a year, Dr. M and I had "the talk". The "where to go from here since the path we're on isn't working" talk. We started checking progesterone levels where, low and behold, they were almost nonexistent. Pretty much meaning that if I was going to get pregnant, I was going to need some help. We took a month to think, because as much as I wanted another child, I was not ready to wrap my mind around the possibility of multiples. I figured I COULD handle it, but didn't want to have to! Selfish of me, but not knowing what the next few years would hold, I had no idea.
After three months of help, we got pregnant. I was elated! Until the ultrasound showed a sac but nothing else. In June of 2014, I had a miscarriage. I was crushed, and my world was rocked. Through those ultrasounds, we discovered that I had a HUGE cyst. 11 cm and staying. It wasn't going away on its own, so I had surgery at the beginning of July to remove it. I had never had invasive surgery, so with those nerves on top of my current emotions, I was in a world of my own.
Fast forward a few months after a recovery period, and we start up again. Another 3 months of Clomid, and my levels drastically drop. We do an ultrasound and once again, the cyst is back. 13 cm this time. Into surgery again I go, the day before Valentine's Day. I missed my class party.
After that recovery period, we checked again, just to be sure I was good before starting back. And there it was. The third one. This time, they wanted to take the ovary as well. Here I am, two years into trying to conceive, and they want to take an ovary away. I had what is called a muscinous cystadenoma. A "spitting" cyst that would continue to recur because we wouldn't ever get all of it out. A second opinion at UAB confirmed this, and in May 2015, I had my final surgery. This one removed the cyst, but also a little piece of me.
By this time, I had hit my lowest point. I was not me, I was not happy. I remember withdrawing and keeping to myself. Life was just hard. I buried myself in books and movies, because it was not my life but a world that took me away from my thoughts. I started medication to help, and didn't realize how bad it was until I looked back. WOW. I should've done that sooner, but hindsight is 20/20. You don't see until after it is over.
What hurt the most throughout this was that I had the sweetest little boy, asking for a sibling. He knew he was the only one of his friends without one. Even though we'd have friends over, he wasn't happy, because they always had to go home. He wanted someone to stay. He prayed for one. One day, he was mad because he was praying and it wasn't happening. As I looked into his eyes, I told him what I had to tell myself every day. God is answering our prayers, but he has a lot of different answers. It might just not be the answer that we wanted. Looking into his eyes each time broke my heart a little more, but I wasn't giving up.
We started back again, and started back on Clomid once again. After the third month, I finally got up the courage to ask to go to a specialist. Someone who could look even further into this to see what the next steps could be. We needed something else. At this point, we had tried for 2 and 1/2 years and were wearing thin.
Thanksgiving Break, 2015, we met our doctor at ART. He was GREAT. Laid out all of our options, the good, the bad, and the ones we know we didn't want to try. Initial workups with them showed a few tiny cysts on my left ovary, but they did not seemed too concerned.We left that day with a plan, a framework of next steps to follow. I just had to wait until my next cycle started to get the ball rolling.
The next week, we went in for a baseline. And there it was. ANOTHER cyst, this time on the left ovary. It was not even 3 cm, but enough that the plan that we had... on hold. My body needed ANOTHER month to wait to get itself ready. That was it. I was mad. Livid. Could not believe that this was happening, and after all this time and the trials we had encountered. This nail in my emotional coffin.
Needless to say, Christmas season came and went with great emotion that I quickly drowned out. I was just tired. Tired of hoping and thinking, worrying and wondering. Just waiting for the green light, but going through the day to day routines.
Chris' birthday is on December 30. On our way to dinner, I was HUNGRY. But my salad? Not quite tasting right. I looked at Chris and raised my eyebrow. We ended up stopping at a Rite Aid to pick up a test, something I had long since quit doing. The one thing Chris wanted for his birthday? To have another child. During the time where we weren't doing anything. I was beat, and yet, it
happened.
There have been many highs and lows on this road, bumps and emotional bruises. I have found some of the greatest support in some of the least expected places. And I have seen that there is nothing better than the best of friends to turn to, a husband who is your rock, and a God who answers prayers, whether the answer you want or not. We are truly blessed and thankful for each and every moment on this new journey.
-T
