I yelled at God, then I prayed that it wasn't true.

I was told that I was infertile at age 19. The male doctor said a full hysterectomy was the only thing that would save my life. I looked him straight in the eye and said "is this the same advice you would give your childless, virgin daughter." Then I left without ever looking back. However, my PCOS diagnosis landed me back in the hospital on nearly an annual basis. Finally married and 27, with real insurance for the first time since childhood, a reproductive endocrinologist said to me, pregnancy might be your only hope at a normal menstrual cycle. I can get you pregnant. And he did.

 

Three rounds of medication later, I was pregnant. Too excited, never did I think I would get pregnant. I even chose my career to study atypical cases of PCOS that don't respond to traditional medication with hopes of one day figuring out how to help people like me. But yet, this man, this specialist, was able to get me pregnant. My husband and I were overwhelmed, God had worked a miracle on our third and final try. However, 12 weeks later, we found out that our blessing was only with us for 7 weeks in 4 days. Regardless of the morning sickness and expansion of my stomach, my blessing had left 4 weeks and 3 days earlier. I was devastated. I don't even know how my husband coped, I was too devastated to care or help him, even though it was clear that we both were grieving. Friends called, condolences were offered, thanksgiving came and went, yet my depression took over. I decided that there was nothing really left to care about. How could God let my un-asked for prayer come true, and then take my baby back.

 

I was comfortable believing that I would never get pregnant. But to get pregnant and not walk away with a baby, that was torture I was notprepared for. 8 months later, I tried again. I took the meds again, and this time I conceived after 2 cycles. The pregnancy was detected as a result of abnormal bleeding. We were at a work function, for obstetricians, and I immediately talked to a colleague who recommended me getting to the office for a check up immediately. At that point, I was 2 weeks pregnant. I was monitored twice a week for 12 weeks, then given the all clear to have an uneventful pregnancy. Through God's grace, I did. My baby was born at 39 weeks and 1 day. This pregnancy did exactly what the specialist expected, it normalized my period for the first time in my life. At the age of 31, I finally experienced a normal period. At age 32, I once again experienced an odd bleeding that reminded me of my successful pregnancy. So, I took a pregnancy test and found out that I was indeed expecting. Clearly this was a miracle child. My third pregnancy, but the first that happened in its own with no medical intervention. I was shocked, humbled, and excited that my body was finally functioning like a woman's should. I never expected sex to lead to a pregnancy for me. But was overly excited. When I found out I was pregnant, I was 6 days along. At 5 weeks and 2 days it was determined that my pregnancy was ectopic. Another non-viable pregnancy. How did my miracle turn into the thing that could possibly kill me and take me away from my 2.5 year old daughter.

 

Depression took over. I quit my job, because if I couldn't help myself, how could I possibly help other women. Every time I never wanted to get out of bed, my daughter would say, "you don't want to play with me mama?" That question was my lifeline. After a month, I started going to therapy. Over the course of 3 months, we worked through my pain. We worked through a plan. We decided on a long term birth control and she helped me set a plan to reenter my career. The day after my last therapy session I went in for my long term contraception placement and was told that it would have to wait because I was 6 weeks pregnant. I still to this day do not remember conceiving. I always knew about my pregnancies within the first 2 weeks. My training and education has ne extremely aware of these things. I don't know how 6 weeks could have passed without me knowing, but it did, and I was pregnant. I cried. I cried. I cried. I told my husband I wanted to terminate immediately. I told him I couldn't be hopeful one more time.

 

I couldn't relinquish control one more time. I needed to control when the loss was going to happen andnot fall in love with another baby that would be fine before I could hold or name it. Both he and my mother stepped in and prayed for me. I got through the next 7 weeks and rejoiced. This was my first time making it out of my first trimester of pregnancy in over 4 years. At 20 weeks, we found out that we were having another girl, the next week we found out that our new baby screened positive for trisomy 18. If our new baby was to make it to be born alive, she would most likely die within the first 2 days of life. I immediately spiraled back into the deep depression. I cursed myself for not going with my first thought of controlling my own destiny in terms of this pregnancy. I yelled at God, then I prayed that it wasn't true. Then i started to fight for my child. I called all my friends who specializes in genetics, asked what I needed to do. Took all the necessary next steps, and played the waiting game. 14 days later, the confirmatory test came back that said 99.8% negative for trisomy 18. I sit here today, 30 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Still scared to death that this baby might not make it. Praying that she does, and that I'm strong enough to handle whatever comes next.

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