Kevin and I officially started trying to have children a year after we got married. After the first year of trying, I confided in very few friends that we had been trying. After two years, I had my first confirmed miscarriage, and realized I had had that happen before. After five years, I made the hard decision, to make it nearly impossible to become pregnant, due to several things going on that the only could be cured through a tubal ligation. God blessed me with Emily a year later under unfortunate means. The next six years were filled with hopeful adoptions, foster care cases, and ivf treatments, all of which would fail. Six years after Emily came along, and 12 years at the beginning of our journey I am now 11.5 weeks pregnant. I am fully aware that this baby could be taken from me at any minute. That's my story.
Before I was open with people about our fertility we would get this question a lot or some form of it. After my sister in law who was married two years after us had their first, I felt like we were bombarded by our church, "Now it's your turn." "Why don't you guys get started." "Your little sister is beating you out." We'd been trying for three years by that point. Then one day, I had enough of the question, and some unfortunate couple who I actually really like came up to me and not only told us we should be having children, but playfully teased me for two torturous long minutes. I looked right at them and without emotion said, "Actually we have been trying for several years now, and I believe I have had a couple miscarriages if not more.." The look on their face made me feel guilty, because my intent was to make them feel bad for what they were doing. I accomplished that. I knew they never meant to hurt me, and I don't have ill feelings towards anyone who ever said anything. I was hurt and I lashed out.
The bottom line is that this question caused a lot of pain, but led me to be very open about my infertility. Being open about my infertility occasionally caused pain, but opened up so much more to blessing. I am very thankful for my openness and glad that I shared so openly. I have been blessed many times over for my willingness to be open. But not everyone has that comfort level. It took me years to be this open.
It's funny, I thought much of the pain would end after Emily came. It did not. I thought much of the pain would end if I got pregnant. I can honestly say it didn't. Pain from infertility is a unique thing. It's not a visible loss, it's not even a tangible loss, but it's a loss that even the fulfillment of having children will not erase, because the scar remains. It's also a loss that those who have not experienced it will never truly grasp the pain of it fully. Even though I am pregnant, I think I will always view myself as an infertile woman.
After six years of infertility, she was blessed with the adoption of her oldest daughter who now is a teenager. Six years later, she finally became a mother a second time, this time with a baby through a donated egg and ivf. Throughout that time, she fostered nine babies and toddlers, met wonderful women who helped her grow, and learned to rely on Jesus. She started this blog with the hope that she could share her joy, experience, and willingness to grow with others, whether they battle infertility, toddlers, or teens.