National Infertility Awareness Week~ My Story

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When I woke up this morning it hit me, I had my first miscarriage 6 years ago today. I had been pregnant for about 10 weeks. Sick almost every day and had heard the heart beat. However, the doctor’s had a feeling something wasn’t right and I was in denial, Until I woke up on April 23 feeling empty, and not pregnant anymore. We got to the doctor and my fear was confirmed. There wasn’t a heartbeat and I had been scheduled for a d&c a day later, April 24 2013, the worst day of my life.
They scheduled a d&c pretty fast for a few reasons. One being it can take a up to three months for the body to recognize the miscarriage, and two, we wanted answers; so the fetus would be tested after the procedure. I didn’t know what to expect, as I didn’t do the research, until after- which was a mistake. Ladies, if ever in that situation: DO NOT look it up. When we went to hear the results two weeks later we were told it was a chromosomal abnormality, to wait a few months and try again, naturally.
Well, what should have been three months was only really 1.5, because by the end of June I had another positive pregnancy test. I was afraid and nervous. But happy. We waited the six weeks to see the doctor. And again, there was a heartbeat and this time the doctors didn’t have any negative feeling. I was told “baby has a strong heartbeat!” What everyone wants to hear. Two days later while working I started to spot. I called the doctor and they had told it could me normal spotting or it could be the beginning of a miscarriage. My heart sank. A day later i went back to the doctor to be told her again there isn’t a heart beat. I had my second d&c that afternoon. The second worst day of my life. When I woke up in the recovery room, my doctor with little bedside manner told both my husband and I to stop trying naturally. I was in shock that a doctor would say that while I’m still in a hospital gown recovering from a second miscarriage.
Now, I don’t really know what depression is as I’ve never been diagnosed with it. But, I am almost certain I experience it for months after the second miscarriage. I’d cry, didn’t want to talk or go out, was in literal pain mentally and emotionally, physically too with the medicine given to help the uterus contract down to normal. Imagine having contractions without pain medicine and no baby to show for it. It’s awful. Beyond. And I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.
After visits to a fertility specialist we were told my husband has a chromosomal abnormality. He is the carrier of a translocated chromosome. It would be hard to get pregnant apparently after learning this but we also learned that our health insurance didn’t cover IVF, which would have been our next step (I also learned, years after, that I have PCOS which explains some more of our infertility struggles). My specialist suggested because I was still young at the time to try naturally once more when we were ready. If that last “natural” time didn’t work out for us to have our miracle rainbow baby,  Wyatt, we would have been back at that doctor starting IVF.
Getting pregnant wasn’t easy. After the miscarriages and waiting it took time for me to get pregnant again. I honestly thought it wasn’t ever going to happen for us. We would be the cool aunt and uncle to all our friend’s kids.
Once it did happen, I was a high risk pregnancy and i couldn’t connect with the baby at all. I was nervous almost every day thinking I was going to miscarry again. Those nerves never went away. I have a beautiful 4 year old now that I wouldn’t change any of my journey for, but when you’re going through it, that pain is so awful and real, we need friends and family to help mend our broken, aching heart. It was a black hole I didn’t see myself getting out of.
When i started opening up to friends about it, weight seemed to lift off my shoulders. Like why was it such a secret? What was I ashamed of? We are told that this happens more than people realize, that it’s not our fault, and it’s our body’s way of telling us something isn’t right. So if that’s the case, why hide it? I am a firm believer in talking. By sharing my story, I can only wish I’m giving some one else going through a similar situation any form of hope there is in such a shitty time and place in their life.
This week is national infertility awareness week. Let’s #flipthescript and open a new world. One where we can share what we are experiencing and not feel judged or shamed, but rather loved and cared for. Not to be told “it’s going to be ok” by someone who may not have gone through it, but “yes. This sucks, but you know what, you will get through this and I am here for you when you want to talk!”
I would never wish pain like this on anyone. If you have ever gone though any sort of infertility struggle, you know how it feels. Please, Stay strong. Stay positive. And stay hopeful that one day you’ll have your miracle too.

Always remember YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

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