My Children

I guess a little bit about my family is in order.... our daughter, conceived through the miracle of modern medicine, is currently 3 1/2 years old. I am reminded every day that she is an amazing act of God. At the same time, I wonder how it is possible for that same God to deny a parent that joy.

The first time I went to a doctor about not being able to get pregnant, I was 19. Yes, that was way too young, especially since I am no longer married to that man (but that is whole other post). That doctor told me that I had no business getting pregnant because I was too young. I could see his point of view, and I understood why he said that. I could see hundreds of other young couples having children who had no idea what they were doing. The difference between them and me? Well, I wanted kids. I had a dream of a family. I loved children. Their point of view? Well, let's just say, there are people having kids in their 30's who I wouldn't let babysit for me.

Maybe I'm old fashioned or uptight, but I expect my daughter to act a certain way, and I expect the same from any other child who is in my home. Now, I don't expect her to be perfect, but she is respectful, responsible, and so affectionate. She can express herself without throwing a tantrum and she can have a conversation with an adult and comprehend what is being said. I love her. She is by far, the best thing I have ever done.

Anyway, fast forward 5 years and one husband later and I am again in a doctor's office because of the inability to conceive. My doctor this time is wonderful. He is understanding, knowledgeable and concerned for me. He agrees that 6 years since stopping birth control, I should have been able to get pregnant if everything were normal. So, he ordered all the necessary tests; bloodwork, and ultrasound. The conclusion? Unexplained infertility... great, so everything worked but didn't do what it was supposed to. Evidently, I don't ovulate. We discussed the options we had and decided that I would take a drug called Clomid. I was skeptical to say the least. Well, shortly after starting the first cycle of the drug, I got sick. I was exhausted, tired, and fatigued. I didn't feel well at all and this concerned me because I wanted to be healthy in the chance that I got pregnant. I was feeling so bad in fact, that I didn't go to get my scheduled bloodwork done. So I stumbled into the hospital a week late and asked if I could get my bloodwork done then. No call that day. So, I'm not pregnant.

The next morning, the phone rings and it's my doctor. He's calling to tell me not to get discouraged and we'll try again next month. WRONG!! I was pregnant. I could have fainted. I was so happy, my husband was ecstatic. I couldn't believe it. Well, everything went perfect. Our little Dani was born 8 months later, perfect in more ways than I could count.

I asked my doctor what my chances of conceiving a second time were. He said that most women who undergo Clomid treatment have no recurring fertility problems and he seemed determined to give me and IUD before I was discharged from the hospital. I told him that I was never using birth control again whether it was chemical or not. My husband and I were perfectly fine if I went in for my 6 week checkup and was already pregnant. Well, that didn't happen... and twice in the following year, he was deployed to the Middle East, so getting pregnant again was not easy. Before we moved up here, I went to the doctor again to get more Clomid. She suggested I wait until we get settled into our new house.....

So, 3 months later, in Alaska I make an appt. with my new doctor. He doesn't feel comfortable prescribing Clomid as he is a family doctor, not an OB. So, he has to put a referral into the system for me to meet with an OB at the nearby Army hospital. They are short staffed so an appt. is not available for another 3 months. Great, what's another 3 months for people who wanted another baby 2 years ago?

Finally, I meet with the OB. He prescribes Clomid, I get pregnant in November. Everything is great again. In January, I have an ultrasound to check for a multiple pregnancy and to see that everything is fine. I remember seeing the familiar gummy bear shape on the screen and searching for the pulsing orb of the heartbeat. I never saw it. My baby was dead inside me.

I still remember that moment, seeing the perfect shape on the monitor of the head, arm and leg buds. And that's all it was, a still picture, no movement. I was devastated.... for months.... still am.

I can't imagine going through that trauma again. It was just a few months ago in September when that baby would have been 4 weeks old that my hubby and I really cried together. That night, we named our baby Michael. There's a story behind that. I'll write it later.

Since then, I have been doing a lot better. It's been a little over a year now since I had a D&C. I'm not interested in trying again. Last summer we decided that we wanted to adopt. The decision was easy however the process... well, I wouldn't really call it a process... it's more like making a decision and then running into every obstacle that could occur to drag it out even more.

Somewhere, out there is our new daughter.... an ocean between us and miles of paperwork. Everyday brings us closer to her but it still feels forever away...