It was the beginning of 2017 that my husband and I would start actively trying to grow our family. I thought, without a doubt, I would have a baby in my arms by the following year. Many of my relatives (and even my mother in fact) got pregnant while on birth control. I mean, we must all be super fertile right?! Wrong. I soon noticed after I stopped taking my birth control that I was not having a cycle. No cycle means no ovulation. No ovulation means no baby.
I waited several months with no change. I was told by others and doctors to “be patient.” In October I finally decided to make an appointment with my OBGYN after several failed attempts to “jump start” my cycle with progesterone. The doctor ordered several labs, tests, and did an exam. I did everything I was supposed to, and still nothing was happening. I cut out certain foods, laid back on exercise, and stopped anything that could possibly be interfering with me starting my cycle.
I went back the following month, and she encouraged me to try and “be patient,” although she knew that was hard since we were trying to grow our family which would be impossible without me ovulating. She stated she had ruled out any underlying cause (PCOS, for example) that could be causing my lack in cycle, but stated that she could find nothing to answer as to why I was not ovulating. After several other exams, a few more tests, and a few phone calls, she ended up directing me to a fertility clinic near us. By “near us,” I mean a 1 hour and 15 minute drive one way. My husband and I decided to wait until after the holidays to start seeing a Reproductive Endocrinologist.
January 3, 2018 was our first appointment. I was full of hope and terrified at the same time. I was one of the “lucky” ones. At least I knew what the problem was. I just didn’t know why it was happening and if it could be changed. Our RE diagnosed me with Hypothalamic Amenorrhea. Finally, it had a name. Now, it was time for me to beat it. After a few more tests and ultrasounds, our RE determined that my body would not respond to pills and we would have our best shot at success by doing injections followed by IUI. So that’s exactly what we did.
Long story short, our first cycle had to be cancelled. My ovaries went from producing nothing for weeks to suddenly producing too many follicles and I was too high risk for multiples to continue. A few days after the cancelled cycle, my dad was diagnosed with ALS. Talk about being in a pit; I was in a deep one. I felt like I was letting so many people down. I so badly wanted to see my parents become grandparents and now, with my dad, that timeline may have just be shortened significantly. I tried to remain strong, but now I felt even worse than before.
Our second attempt at IUI soon followed. Injections began, ultrasounds started again, and appointments were becoming a daily trip. I thought for sure this was God’s timing. I was clinging to Him at this moment. Knowing and remembering He is good, and I needed to trust in Him. I thought, “maybe God knew we would all need something good after a failed cycle and an incurable diagnosis for my dad.”
After our IUI, my husband and I went on a short little vacation to a cabin in the mountains in Tennessee. We were so full of hope. I distinctly remember sitting on a bench right outside of this small donut shop in town. We talked about what our future might look like 9 months from now. We laughed at the children googling over their giant donuts as they walked in and out of the shop. We so deeply hoped that would be us one day.
On March 11th, 2018, the day we were driving home from vacation, I started to have severe cramps and seemed as though my cycle had started with full force. I was flooded with emotions. I hadn’t even been able to get my hopes up by taking a pregnancy test, because this started sooner than my first possible test day. I laid in bed all afternoon and night full of discouragement, anger and sadness. In the morning, I told my husband that I was going to take a test anyway…IT WAS POSITIVE. I freaked out to say the least, yet I was terrified because why was I bleeding if I was pregnant?! I tried to have hope, and we did all we could for that sweet baby. But at week 6, it was confirmed that our baby had no heartbeat and I had miscarried.
That is the worst pain I have ever felt. I still get chills thinking about that moment. I was broken. I was in a deep deep hole. I was angry. I was angry at everyone, and everything. If it wouldn’t have been for my faith, husband, and family/friends, I don’t know how I would have ever gotten out of that ugly place.
A few weeks passed and I dug into my relationship with God like I never had before. My husband and I had been through more in the last few months that could either tear us apart or build us stronger than ever before. I’m here to say with a grateful heart, that my marriage grew exponentially at that time. My husband kept me together. He was strong for me. He encouraged me, cried with me, and held me when I needed it the most. He put me before himself day after day. I knew he was hurting too, but he was always there for me. Every appointment he could be at, every injection I had to take, every moment of doubt, he was there. If I have one piece of advice for others, it is to allow this struggle to strengthen you. It’s hard, but you can come out stronger.
Our family and friends rallied around us. After months went by, we prayed for discernment regarding our next step in our journey. We prayed the Lord’s will would be done. My husband and I took time to heal, to grow, and to find joy and contentment with where we were.
In August 2018, we decided to give IUI a third try. Again, we began injections, I had a wand where it had been way too many times before to measure and count my follicles, and I remember before going to church one Sunday we had to do a “quick” (2 1/2 hour round trip) appointment so we would get the timing for our trigger shot just right. Two weeks after IUI, it was test day. My husband and I didn’t sleep at all the night before. We were hopeful, anxious, and full of anticipation. At 5 am, I got up and took the test….POSITIVE. I was pregnant! We were overwhelmed with gratitude and joy. We held each other tight as we cried and thanked the Lord for this precious miracle. I would be lying if I said we weren’t scared too. The last times this happened, we were left more heartbroken than we had ever been. But we chose to hold onto hope and not let the fears win.
I had to continue injections throughout most of the first trimester to help support the pregnancy. Even though my bum was numb by the end, I was forever grateful for each and every one of them. There was a whole lot of prayer and little bit of medicine that finally made this all possible.
On April 29, 2019 our sweet rainbow baby was born. That day, every injection, every heartache, all the ups and downs…it was all more than worth it. Today, I am the mother I am because of infertility. I am the person I am because of infertility. I firmly believe I, personally, needed to walk through this to be the kind of mother I wanted to be. I’m more grateful, patient and find joy in the not so glorious moments that I know pre-infertility me may have taken for granted. I am in no way saying people who don’t struggle are not grateful or good mothers, because I know some darn good mothers, including my own, that never suffered. I’m saying that the Lord used this to strengthen me and help me grow in a way I never knew I needed or was possible.
If you are still in the thick of it, know that you are not alone, and do not lose hope. Thankfully God has his perfect plan for all of us and we just need to stay faithful to him and He will provide. My tips: try to find something you are thankful for in each day. If you’re having a really hard day, don’t feel bad if you just need to Netflix and “chill” (literally chill in bed with pizza pockets – been there, done that). If you need to skip that baby shower because at that moment it’s just too hard, skip it (I did)! Don’t lose hope. Know you are being prayed for every single day. I may be on the “other side,” but I vividly remember the journey here. We were blessed that our journey was only about 1 1/2 years. We know others are still in the thick of it, or maybe never got to the “other” side. You are all warriors. You can make a difference no matter how your story ends. I hope and pray that you come out stronger, no matter what.
P.S. In case you’re wondering, my dad has met and is still currently a part of my daughter’s life. He can’t hold her, or be the kind of grandpa he would like to be because of what ALS has started to take from him, but she knows who her “paw paw” is. You can tell by her smile she knows how incredibly loved she is. God is good.
Facebook: Paige Lambright
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