The struggle was real...

"You're about six weeks pregnant" is the diagnosis I was given sitting in a cold ER room on an October afternoon.
"But you're getting divorced" my mom said to me as she sat in the chair next to the hospital bed. Not her words verbatim, but a way to put it nicely. The nurse ignored her. "It looks like your conception date would have been around September 5" - my husband's birthday, and not even a week after we had decided to give our marriage another try.

It was the infertility that had broken our marriage.

When Pj and I had started realizing there was a future for us, we discussed how kids were something we wanted.  Having a son from a previous relationship, I longed for a daughter and the desire to create a life with my husband. We started trying immediately upon getting married. Brystin was 3 when we got married and we wanted our kids close in age. As Pj put it, he wanted to marry me now to date me later - basically saying were going to pop our kids out now and close together so once they are grown we can enjoy our time together.

It was so exciting at first! Being excited, browsing baby shops, thinking of should i start my stock pile on diapers and soap yet?! Three months later, still not pregnant, I decided to start tracking and talking to the doctor about the natural family planning to increase my chances of getting pregnant. This is probably where it all started to go down hill. It became all about the charting and the tracking. Peeing on an ovulation test everyday.  The one day the ovulation test was positive and it was like i had never received good news in my life.  My husband came home from work and there was no "hello" exchanged, he wasn't in the door for 5 seconds and I told him that he had too because the ovulation test was positive. I was so sure that was the month. Only to be disappointed two weeks later.

Everyone kept telling me just to relax and give it time. We had only started trying. By now it was going on six months.  I had joined blogs and community boards, suddenly i didn't feel so alone. But I also couldn't go a day without spending hours on there. Grieving with other moms, sharing in the sadness and let down of the desire to have another baby.... just to see another pregnancy announcement.

Six months into trying, I was 2 weeks late, nauseous and very tired and on edge. I bought a pregnancy test thinking this had to be it, only for the lines not to show up. Weird, right?! How does a pregnancy test malfunction?!  The next day I woke up with really bad cramping and some odd color spotting, so I called my OB and went in. Upon an exam, I was informed that "miscarriages are common and infertility happens" and that "it was very probable I had miscarried." What made this news worse was the fact that my younger sister was pregnant and sitting in the waiting room, annoyed that my appointment was taking so long.  The doctor had a conversation with me saying that after 6 months of not getting pregant while actively trying that it is considered infertility, and having endometriosis and PCOS would only make it harder and possible cause more losses. He put me on progesterone to help regulate my body to increase our chances. But after 6 months and a probable loss, I already felt defeated.

The depression started to be more than I could take.  I was angry. I was annoyed. and I was starting to feel alone. Everyone gave me their "words of comfort":
"at least you already have a son"
"be grateful for what you have"
"some people try for years and years"
"you can always adopt"
"there are plenty of kids in foster care"
"just enjoy this time with your husband"
oh yeah, and I think my favorite line came from a family member who suggested we stop trying because they were having blood work done to test for some illness and if the test was positive, it was a hereditary illness and our unborn child would more than likely need a blood transfusion.

or my other favorite line... when I was trying to tell my sister about the reality of having a child, she said "you're just jealous"

okay! let's stop for a moment.... NONE of those are acceptable things to say to anyone who is trying... whether it has been a day, week, month, year, or decade. And it doesn't matter if it's their first baby or their 5th. The desire to carry a child and a bring a new life into this world is a heart's desire that can't be measured, and if you can't relate to the struggle, kindly keep your comments to yourself because you have no idea.

Nine months had passed since we started trying, and my doctor recommended a laparoscopy, just to go in and clean everything out.  The procedure was quick. I was in and out in an hour. Going home, I had high hopes that now it was going to be much easier.  It was like this new found confidence and I felt refreshed as in the surgery was the answer.  Until a week later, I woke up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain. I couldn't even stand up. I fell on the floor and couldn't move and screamed for my husband. It resulted in calling 911 and being rushed to the ER. I had clotted in my ovaries, and the cysts and inflammation were back and worse than ever. ((Medical lesson: if you aren't familiar, results from the laparoscopy procedure should last for at least 6 months. Once you're cleaned out, it should take a minimum of 6 months of everything to come back if it does... so this, this was not normal.)) I was sent home on more pain killers, and a follow up doctor appointment for the next day.  

My mom took me to my appointment the next day.  I was the only non pregnant lady in the room. Tearfully, I sat and watched couples coo over their ultrasound pictures, or moms to be rubbing their growing bump. My mom could sense my angst sitting there, as soon as she asked if I was okay, in a loud tone, I cried out "why can't they have a separate waiting room for people struggling with infertility. The last thing I want to do is sit here with a bunch of preggos. It's not fair." I placed my head in my hands and sobbed, and secretly judged everyone in that room.   Embarrassed my mom went up to the receptionist and asked how soon it was until I got to go back because I was having a break down. Once the doctor took me back, she talked to me about anti-depressants and referred me to Reproductive Gynecology.  With my cysts and extra tissue coming back so fast, it was going to be harder than expected for me to get pregnant.

I don't want to get into my experience with them because it wasn't a good one.  I felt they were rude and not clear of their processes. Apparently there is a wrong way to have sex when you are trying to get pregnant? Who knew?! And apparently you also have to pattern your days for sperm reproduction? News to me too. Weird. The only positive news we got from them was that the problem wasn't my husband, it was me. My body, my uterus, my crazy cyst-infested ovaries, my endometriosis. I felt like a failure. And more confused than ever. 
My PCOS and cysts were discovered when I was 15.
Diagnosed with endometriosis at 19, and was told I would never be able to carry a baby full term, and that I had a very high chance of a hysterectomy by the age of 22. But at 21, I got pregnant and carried a high risk pregnancy to term.
I was an unmarried college student, still living at home with no real goal in life.  How could I get pregnant then? I had done everything right this time - finished college, had a full time job, got married, lived on my own... why can't I get pregnant now?!

Almost a year into trying, I was denying baby shower invites, deleting pregnant friends off facebook and going off on any pregnant person that complained.  I'm sorry, I just couldn't share in the happiness. People were more insensitive than ever to our struggle. As I became open about our struggle, my husband kept more to himself.  We began fighting more and if an ovulation time came and he wasn't in the mood, there was a wrath in our house that couldn't be contained.  I became all consumed in this depression and negativity. As my sisters due date approached, I wanted nothing to do with her. I couldn't even stomach to talk to her. My mom and grandma had multiple conversations with me about how hard this was for them.. to try to be happy for my sister and be supportive and sensitive to me.   I couldn't understand how my sister who was homeless, jobless, a high school drop out pregnant with her best friend's boyfriend's baby could be so blessed, but my husband and I had been struggling for a year.  

Thirteen months into trying, I woke up one morning with really, really painful cramping and when I went to the bathroom, there were clumps. This wasn't normal so I called the doctor. They had me come in right away. A negative pregnancy test, a little higher than average hormone levels.  The doctor gave me an exam and got a concern look on his face. He sent me immediately back from an ultrasound. The worst was confirmed, we had suffered a loss. I sobbed and couldn't understand. A year in and 2 losses. I just didn't get it. Pj was very stoic about everything, at this point, he just wanted his normal wife back. He had lost his wife to this never ending obsession of trying to get pregnant. I had lost myself. I didn't know how to come back from this depression. I just wanted to start our own biological family with my husband.

Our happy home was now a personal hell. I can't explain every emotion that I felt - and i'm sure the emotional roller coaster was just amped up even more by all the different hormones they had me on. By this time, there was blood work, shots, constant doctor appointments. Blood work after blood work, shot after shot, test after test, more medicine. In the midst of my depression, remember that family member that encouraged us to stop trying?! She was now pregnant. And super insensitive to what I was going through.  She also couldn't understand why we couldn't be happy for her. The pain in my heart was real. And to be honest, I felt betrayed. To encourage us to stop because of an illness she was being tested for, and then she got pregnant?! I couldn't wrap my head around it. And it created a house divided. With that pregnancy announcement and my sister's due date quickly approaching, I was just overwhelmed.  I felt this grief and hatred. How could the two people that were insensitive to me the most be the ones to get the blessing I was praying for?! 
(Side note: my nephew was born a week later and I was absolutely in love with him, and still am!)

To say, I lost my mind that night would be an understatement. I had completely lost it. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think. My emotions raged and got the best of me.  Even my support person couldn't calm me down. I was over it. And after that breakdown, my husband was over it too. 

My husband started working later, talking to me less, not paying attention to me. The marriage was over. The love was gone. Something that was supposed to bring us together had ripped us apart. We started talking about divorce and separating.  Everything was just getting to be too much. We split for a week to give each other space, he went to Cleveland, I went to Florida. Even though we had decided to stay together, things weren't the same. Our relationship wasn't the same. We weren't close.

Fifteen months into trying, the doctor gave us rounds of clomid. The clomid made me so sick and was so painful. But a few weeks and a negative test later, my husband left.  
"You're just a horrible, miserable person. And you're so ugly to me" those words will haunt me for the rest of my life. But in that moment, I was. I really was.  That was everything the past 16 months had turned me into. I was bitter, I was angry, I wasn't myself. I had lost myself and my marriage to a hope that turned into an obsession. And it was out of control, I was out of control. I couldn't fathom how it all had gone downhill or where it started to go wrong and if I could have changed it, I would have.  
(Even looking back now, I'm so embarrassed and I can't apologize enough to those around me that I hurt.)

When Pj moved out, it was the eye opener that I needed to get myself together.  I started counseling and instead of focusing on getting pregnant, it was focusing on managing my cysts and endometriosis.  A few other health issues were discovered too, biopsies and blood work, surgery and treatment. Though Pj and I didn't live together, we weren't completely apart. We still spent weekends, holidays, and random times together. We were attempting to start over.  We weren't actively trying anymore but we weren't preventing it either.  Each month we would have a talk about if I were to end up pregnant. The more that I started to get better and feel better, the less heartbreaking it was each month when the test was negative and that monthly friend showed up. 

27 months into trying and still nothing, I filed for divorce. He didn't want to move back home, the infertility had just destroyed us.  There was nothing left. Maybe living separate we both held on to the hope that something would happen. A baby, a reconciliation. But it was done, it was over. Obviously the infertility rattled a foundation that wasn't strong enough to survive the toughest storms.  I was devastated and felt like I had wasted the past few years of my life.  And accepting the fact that life was just going to be Brystin and I was a reality I needed to face. The battle was over, and we lost. 

When we had our first divorce hearing, it was rough. And the first time I had seen him in months. But there was something in that moment of seeing each other that clicked. Did we really want to do this?! We started talking after the hearing, and decided to take it slow. I didn't want to try for a baby anymore, I just wanted to focus on myself, repairing my marriage and broken relationships, and getting ready for my little boy to start kindergarten. I had enrolled back in school, I wanted to help people. I don't want people to go down the same path I did and self destruct and lose everything. After a month of talking, and apologizing we had our first face to face conversation and decided we will give it one last and final try. This was it. If we couldn't make it work then it was time to pull the plug. We started looking at small condos in downtown Cleveland or moving away to start over. It was going to just be the three of us, and for once in the past 3 years, I was okay with it. I felt a calm, one step at a time, and maybe a baby wasn't in God's plan for us. A few days later, we celebrated Pj's birthday and it was great to finally feel like a couple again. It was the first time we had been back out with our other "couple" friends, we did things we use to do and we were laughing and smiling again. 

We went away for my birthday, which ironically was a week before our final divorce hearing. We were still treading the water of what was the best decision for us. While we were away, I got sick. I couldn't breathe, I had a lot of pain and pressure on my chest. I was really weak and spent a lot of time sleeping. I remember sitting at breakfast and telling him something was wrong and didn't feel right. Was it my vertigo? Was it cancer? Was my PTSD causing a massive panic attack with our pending court date that would decide our future?! He rolled his eyes not taking how I was feeling seriously. When I got back home, I decided it was best to call the doctor as I struggled to breath. They sent me to the ER and my mom met me there. 
"Is there a chance you are pregnant?" the usual question that every female that has her cycle gets
"No. I don't think so"
"Okay, were going to run some tests and bloodwork and see what's going on" the doctor said and walked out. The nurses came in, did their check and bloodwork. Awhile later, the nurse came back in "you're about 6 weeks pregnant"
My mom and I were shocked. We had tried for so long and stopped, and now we got the news that I would have given anything to hear. I was shocked, when I told Pj, he was shocked. We went through a rough, high risk, and monitored pregnancy... and welcomed our much prayed and hoped for daughter on May 29, 2015.

She was born 3 years and 2 months after we had started trying. 

and surprise! 10 months later, we were pregnant again and welcomed our second daughter January 6, 2017.

Are we done?! I don't think my body can handle another pregnancy. We are happy with our family the way it is. If we get blessed with another baby down the road, then it's a blessing. But if this is God's plan to stay the 5 of us, then I am completely okay with it. We will never go down the path of trying for a baby again, it's just too much and we've been blessed beyond measure. Our girls were definitely worth the wait and the struggle.... the struggle that was all too real....