When a woman has a misscarriage or a still birth people often say “oh you can try again. You will have another one, don’t worry.” They do not realize that those words or even the thought of trying again cuts through her soul. She wanted THAT baby. She did not plan for a future baby, she had planned on brining THAT baby home.
My journey to motherhood has had more potholes than smooth pavement. I watch friends fall pregnant on a whim. I for some reason do not have access to the baby water or whatever magical dust is flying around. Five years. Five years stood between Lucia and Baby E. Both my children were not planned, yet they were desperately wanted and now the desire to mother someone is strong.
Before Baby E I had made peace with the fact that I would never carry a child. Adoption, was going to be my best option. Doctors told me that my uterus was to broken to carry a child and mostly it was a risky endeavor. Girls with a history of blood clots and stroke, well it’s not recommended that you become pregnant. I felt cheated and robbed, one decision affected my whole fertile life. All my friends who went on the NuvaRing got babies, I got a blood clot. This was the hand I was delt and with time I learned to live with it.
That is until a blue plus sign showed up. I was scared, no not scared, I was fucking terrified. I had been pregnant before and it didn’t turn out so well. I went home with empty arms. I was cautiously getting attached to the group of cells I was carrying, the only thing that stood between me and my child was a viability scan. Every high risk pregnant woman dreads this scan. The scan is completed at 6/7weeks gestation, if there isn’t a heart beat, game over. Jay was excited for the ultrasound, as soon as an empty sac flashed on the screen, I knew in my heart it was over. God didn’t give me a second chance to be a mom. He brought me so close to motherhood, yet pushed me one step back. This rainbow was not meant to be ours. The chase was back on.
The world of baby making is not pretty. It’s pretty much a second job. There are charts to be charted, temps to be checked, sex dates on calendars, ovulation test to pee on and then there is the two week wait. The wait to see if all of your hard work (literally) and charting paid off. Month after month went by without a blue plus sign. Something in my gut said “lady you are a little off.”
A year went by with no luck. Down the fertility rabbit hole we went, I’ve had more blood test and scans (the ultrasound wand and I are on a first name basis) than I can count. My body and I are not on good terms right now. My egg reserve is good, yet something is a miss. Luteal phase failure, progesterone and I are not on speaking terms. She is suppose to be my girl and rise to the baby maintaining occasion. Bitch is sitting in her seat exchanging gossip and not paying attention to her job at hand. Getting her to step up is tricky, yet she is my only hope. I need her otherwise I’ll never catch our rainbow.
Talking about infertility makes me feel like I failed as a woman. I’ve got one job and that is to birth babies. I think in away women judge each other. Having fertility help is like the new c-section vs vaginal birth debate. Yes it’s true only a small percentage of the population needs fertility assistance, yet it doesn’t make me any different than fertile myrtle from down the lane. Maybe in away it makes me more of a woman because I have to endure a shit ton of testing and scans and needles to get my prize? Probably not, but I just want to throw that out there.
The getting pregnant process doesn’t scare me. The pregnant part is what scares me. Carrying a child scares me. Not knowing what the next scan will show is what scares me. My therapist assures me that my fears are healthy and normal. That as time goes on they will ease. But for now in this moment they are very real and it’s scary. I desperately want to be a mom, yet 9 months of pregnancy terrifies me. Jay does his best to ease my fears and calms me down. He knows what I’ve gone through, it’s a lot for one soul to carry. Jay tells me that I am strong and that I am capable of carrying our child, we just need to catch our damn rainbow and never let go, well when they are 18 will let go.
There is a five year gap between Lucia and Baby E. Which is not normal, it’s not normal to have a five year gap or to loose two babies in a row. Which the term loose is still strange to me, I know where they are and they are not lost. The fore mentioned is the ugly truth of fertility. Some ladies have what it takes and then there are those of us who desperately want to be fertile.
When someone asks me “do you have children?” I should be able to say “yes, but they died,” without fear of being judged or the awkward look of pity. Just like infertile women, women of dead babies get swept under the rug. It’s like we are societies dirty little secret, like we live in a fairytale land where every woman is fertile and every baby lives.
Truth: that land does not exist and life, it’s ugly and hard. I learned this the hard way. Yet I like many women still hold onto a glimmer of hope that my next pregnancy will be successful and that it will result in a live birth. While you are doing summer things, I will be getting poked, prodded and scanned to make sure my lady bits are in working order, because this, this is going to be the year we catch our rainbow!