About nine years ago, on January
20th, 2005, Tim and I found out
that we were finally pregnant after trying to conceive for over 12 months. We learned that at six weeks old, the baby had stopped growing because
it had implanted itself in my left fallopian tube, just centimeters from my
uterus.
The severe pain, and the bleeding that I was experiencing led my doctor
to perform emergency surgery to repair my left fallopian tube. I endured
my surgical recovery in the maternity floor of the hospital where other moms
were introducing their own babies to the world.
About one year later,
on February 7, 2006 we discovered that I was miscarrying my second pregnancy,
just one week after seeing its heart beating for the first time. Then a week later, we discovered that I was
still pregnant, possibly with a twin, although the baby was not implanted in my
uterus. On February 14, 2006 I was given
the cancer drug, methotrexate, to stop the further growth of my baby. For three months following treatment, I was
required to return to the hospital for a weekly blood test until my hormone
levels had returned to normal.
On September 6, 2007 we
found out that I had miscarried a second time, mere days after purchasing
special Ohio State Chuck Taylors for our baby-to-be.
Then on July 20, 2008 I
suffered my third and final miscarriage.
It was by far the longest I had ever carried a baby until that point,
eight weeks. I remember feeling uneasy
about the amount of blood that I was losing, but for the fourth loss, I still
felt relieved that I did not have to have a D&C. Tim and I were still hoping for a child and
inquired about how long we should wait before we tried again. Our doctor told us to wait two full cycles.
We only waited one.
On September 24, 2008
we discovered that we were pregnant for the fifth time. A blood test revealed that I had virtually no
progesterone hormones to sustain the pregnancy, but that I could supplement
over the counter…and pray. My doctor
even said that my levels were so low that he was surprised that I hadn’t
already lost the baby. This was
a true testament of the power of God and the miracle he had performed for our
little family.
I was thankfully able
to sustain a healthy pregnancy through hormone supplements, Flintstone vitamins
replacing the nauseating pregnancy vitamins, natural heartburn remedies, and a
diabetic diet, all while experiencing intense nausea 24 hours a day, severe
anxiety that we would {still} lose our baby, and horrific “evening” sickness.
At 18 weeks we found out
we were having a healthy little girl. I
carried her for 36 1/2 weeks. On May 13th,
my water had broken at 3 am. Upon
arriving at Sisters Hospital, I was induced and we were on our way to meeting
our miracle daughter. After 23 hours of
labor, followed by three hours of pushing, our miracle baby was born via vacuum
suction. Crying, healthy, and alive.
Even though there was
great joy upon her arrival, and I felt relief that I was finally a mom, I
endured several months of post-partum depression. I felt guilty for the number of years that I
had so desperately wanted this child, and now that she was here, I didn’t
understand why I found it so difficult to care for her. I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety
disorder, obsessive disorder, as well as pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder and
reluctantly placed on medication. After
several months of therapy, Tim and I were ready to try again. Even though being pregnant was a horrible
experience for me, we both felt that our family wasn’t complete. On November 18, 2010, I underwent my second
emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy.
And even though my doctor tried his best, he was unable to save my left
fallopian tube.
Believing that the left
tube was the faulty issue in my previous ectopic pregnancies, my doctor felt,
as did we, that our problems conceiving had been solved. Although we were told that it might take
longer to get pregnant, we were given the green light to proceed. Tim and I did not want to give up on growing
our family.
On February 14, 2012, I
underwent my third, and final emergency surgery for my last ectopic
pregnancy. My doctor and I were both
surprised by the discovery of the right tubal blockage, especially since any
prior issues were unrelated to that side.
However, we both agreed that emotionally and physically I had been
through “enough” and my right tube was removed, thereby ending any further
attempts at conceiving naturally.
Even though I stand today as a parent of one child, I am a mother of seven. I have carried seven children but six already
reside in Heaven.
Several people have
cautioned us over the years about continuing to grow our family. They were surprised by both the emotional and
the physical anguish that we continued to endure. However, Tim and I chose to cling onto hope
and faith when everything else was against us.
We vowed to never give up on our dream of growing our family until we
were physically unable to do so.
Parenting a miracle
baby is not always easy. I now live with
Anxiety Disorder and fight with it on a daily basis. But I REFUSE to let it
define who I am. Even though my original
hopes and dreams have been shattered, I choose to praise God for the miraculous
gift of life that He has given me. And
yet, even as I type this, Tim and I are not finished with our dream of growing
our family as we are currently pursuing adoption.
My trials were not easy. No one’s are.
But I believe that they have made me a better person. They made me cherish Molly more (as if I didn’t
before), but they also made me treasure the grace of the things we do
thoughtlessly. It made me less selfish,
made me realize the enormous grace by which we are befriended and loved by
others.
What makes us holy is the way
that we live our lives. How we translate
despair into courage and joy into generosity.
When a vessel is broken, its inner substance is revealed. We’re not always responsible for the
circumstances in which we find ourselves, but we are responsible for the way we
respond to those circumstances. Our
response is who we really are.
Greatness of people emerges
from suffering.
Physical suffering and
emotional pain may be God’s way of helping you to get your mind on the
hereafter. Our suffering prepares us to
meet God. What does your own suffering
say to you?
