It is truly rewarding that so many people see my story–my handling of infertility– as graceful and inspirational. After all, it was my goal from the beginning to walk with grace no matter how painful the experience. But in having that mindset I think I have neglected sharing the really dark days…the days that brought me to where I am. After recently pondering previous blog posts and rehashing the ‘early days’ with my husband, I think it is time to share the ugly side of my fertility journey. I have a ‘secret blog’ where I write things I am not yet ready to share with the world. This series of posts was intended for that site, but I think its purpose is better served here. There are many who want to know. And there are many more who need to know. So dear readers, allow me a little indulgence as I recount the darker side of the past four years.
It took Adam and I seven months to become pregnant (March 2005). We lost our first baby the beginning of April. Adam was out of town and I was staying at his parents’ house. What a blessing! Debbi, Adam’s mom, took me to the hospital and a couple of days later our fears were confirmed. It was painful. It was agonizing. It was hell. My first baby’s death stole a little piece of my heart. By the time I realized I was losing the baby, it was too late to see him or her on the ultrasound because I was already passing the pregnancy. Oh how I wish I could have seen that first little sac…there was no reason to have an early ultrasound as this was my first pregnancy. We lost baby number one at six weeks. And I kept the stupid pregnancy test for three years!!! I couldn’t throw it away. By throwing the stick away–I was throwing the only tangible evidence of my baby away. I would pull it out and stare at it, and cry for hours. I stopped exercising and started eating.
After two months of crying in secret, I mustered up the courage to try again. There was no time to waste in my mind as we wanted a big family, and I was 28. Although I was scared to try again I had that oh-so-hated-by-infertiles thought “well, at least I can get pregnant!” What a newbie I was! My friend Valerie found out she was expecting, which spurred me to action. I knew it was going to be hard enough when her son, Carter, was born..he would be one month younger than our first, but I thought if I was pregnant it would make it a little easier to forget about due date number one. Oh, how wrong I was!!!
You are a courageous friend and I admire you so much for putting this out there. Maybe some day I will follow your example.
I love you.
I remember that day very well! I was glad that you came to our house and that we were able to cry together. Jeremy saw me after I got off the phone with you and ran over to see what was wrong! That was so hard!
Ok so tears are flowing…All I can say is that I love you!