Our Journey to Here - Part 2

If you didn't catch the first part of this story, you can read it here!

Making babies has always come easy to Derrick and I. With Zoe, we did everything we could to prevent a pregnancy, and still I got pregnant. With Elliot, I rolled over one night and suggested to Derrick that we have another baby. Two weeks later we had a positive pregnancy test. With Avery, it was pretty much the same thing except we had to wait a month. Making babies was just never an issue for us, and so as soon as we were given the green light from Doctor Robichaud we got down to business. We stocked our bathroom cabinet with Ovulation Predictor Tests and we turned up the romance.

That was September, 2010.

By May, 2011 I was still not pregnant, and I had become discouraged, sad, and definitely a little crazy. I knew I had to do something to take my mind off of getting pregnant and so after much prayer, I decided to start my blog. My blog became a life saver for me because it helped me to put my life back into perspective, it helped me to focus on the good things that filled my days, and it helped me to push aside the feelings of sadness and despair that were beginning to encroach upon me.

One night I laid in Derrick's arms sobbing. I just could not understand what was wrong and why this was not working for us. Derrick consoled me and then confided in me that he was not feeling right. He had noticed that things were not operating as they should in terms of his ability to withstand the rigorous schedule of making a baby, and he was concerned because he was also getting a lot of headaches (something Derrick never gets), he could not get through the day without a nap, and he felt depressed, which was definitely something Derrick had never felt before.  He then told me that he feared our infertility problems were due to him and that he was planning to make an appointment with his doctor.

After some initial tests that revealed Derrick's testosterone levels were dangerously low, he was referred to an endocrinologist. Unfortunately, this doctor felt that test results this low could only be indicative of one thing: that Derrick was somehow altering the results. How? I don't know, but he sent him for another round of blood tests. This time his testosterone levels were even lower. The doctor, assuming that Derrick was nothing but a gym addict on the hunt for some legal steroids, dismissed the results once again and sent Derrick for yet another round of testing. By this point, Derrick was fed up, and he began looking for other doctors who may be willing to help him. Thanks to the miracle of Google, he found a doctor in Portland Maine, who deals with the symptoms Derrick was suffering from, and with the approval of his family physician, he set up an appointment. After further tests, Dr. Bedecs at the New England Age Management Clinic, confirmed that Derrick was suffering from premature Andropause, the male version of menopause, which the doctor believes was brought on by one too many blows to the head (thank you very much hockey). According to research, they believe that 1 in 5 men suffer from the effects of early Andropause, but only 1 in 40 will seek help for their symptoms. Also, according to a young emergency doctor Derrick saw when he broke his foot, the medical community in New Brunswick is slow to even acknowledge that Andropause is an actual condition and therefore, many men are going untreated. 

Anyhoo . . .

In October 2011, Derrick was prescribed some vitamins and hcg (yes, this is the female pregnancy hormone, but for some reason, it helps the male body return to normal hormone levels). By November 2011, I was pregnant!  As you can imagine, we were elated. We cried. We laughed. We prayed.  Then at around the 5 1/2 week mark, the unimaginable happened; we lost our baby.  We were devastated, but not distraught. As hard as it was to miscarry the baby we had waited so long for and worked so hard for, all we could focus on was the fact that we DID get pregnant, and if we did it once, we could do it again.

That was December 2011.  

By February 2012, we still were not pregnant and we had just received Elliot's diagnosis of a Nonverbal Learning Disorder.  By April, we were still not pregnant, and Zoe had just began her first flare-up of Ulcerative Colitis.  To say life was beginning to get a little too heavy for us, is an understatement,  but we kept moving forward and making the best of what we did have.

Then in June 2012, our spirits soared when we discovered we were pregnant again.  Like a runner approaching the finish line of an arduous marathon, I was physically and spiritually worn out from my journey, but I was ecstatic to see an end in sight, and to know that I had finally accomplished what I had so diligently worked for.

Unfortunately, the finish line I saw was simply the halfway marker, and we lost our second baby at 5 1/2 weeks just like our first. I was devastated and numb; however, in spite of the blow this miscarriage delivered, a remarkable change overcame me. Rather than lying in bed that night feeling overcome by grief and sadness, a feeling of immense gratitude washed over me. As I laid there, I realized that on our three year journey to become pregnant, Derrick and I, rather than being torn apart by the stress of it all, had grown closer than ever. I began to appreciate just how blessed I was to have three amazing children already in my life, and I marvelled that along this journey I had become both a writer and a homeschooling mom, two things I had always dreamt of doing but never really thought possible. So, although I was sad that my journey did not seem to be leading me where I had initially intended to go, this new destination was pretty spectacular, and I decided right then and there to make the most of it.

That was June 2012

Unfortunately, although I was indeed making the most of the life I was blessed with, the days and months that followed my second miscarriage were some of the darkest days I have ever experienced. I was still getting up each day with energy and drive to care for my family. I was still smiling, laughing, and seeking out the beautiful moments of our days, but a light had gone out within me. For the first time in my life, I had lost hope.

By the end of December 2012, I realized something had to change. I wanted to feel like me again, but I didn't know how to do it. I knew I needed to give up on this journey to have another baby, but I didn't know if I could let it go. By now, we had invested four years of our lives into it, and I didn't know how I could just walk away, but I knew I had to. I had to do it for me and my family. Then Derrick confided in me that he was done too, and so we decided to take one last kick at the can in January 2013. 

I started the month with a fast. In our church, members are encouraged to go without food and water for twenty-four hours the first Sunday of each month. This fast serves a spiritual as well as a temporal purpose. You fast prayerfully for answers, understanding, direction, or in some cases for miracles in your life or the lives of others, and the money you would have spent on the meals you went without is donated to the church to help those in need. I have never been great at fasting, but this month, I decided I needed all the help I could get. I fasted and prayed. I explained to Heavenly Father that Derrick and I were done and that we were worn out. I pleaded with him to grant us this miracle. January ended and I was still not pregnant.

I was very sad that we did not get the answer to our prayers we had hoped for, but I was determined to move on. I trusted that Heavenly Father knew what was best for us, and I was excited about our future. For the first time in a long time, I was hopeful again, but not hopeful that we would have another baby; just hopeful that our future would be bright. 

I began February with another fast. This time I prayed to understand what this whole journey was about if it wasn't for a baby. I prayed to better understand what He had in store for me, and I prayed for courage to do what He wanted me to do. I told Him I was now handing the reigns over to Him, and I prayed that He would be good to me. Then, I threw out the Ovulation tests, looked at the calendar and warned Derrick not to touch me during the four days I had marked. I took a deep breath and jumped head on into the unknown.

Then at the beginning of March my period was late. I laughed, looked up to the sky and said: "Very funny!"  Then another day passed and no period. Then another and another. Finally, I conceded and took a pregnancy test. I would love to say that when I saw the positive test result, I wept for joy, but that did not happen. Instead I got angry. I got really angry. I screamed:

What are you doing to me? I am trying to move forward and you are dragging me back into this craziness? Why are you torturing me like this?

I cried the entire day. I cried the entire week. I wholeheartedly believed that this pregnancy would end the same way the other two did, but it didn't. The 5 1/2 week marker passed and I was still pregnant. At 6 weeks, we had an ultrasound to make sure that it was not an ectopic pregnancy, which is a possibility after having a tubal ligation reversed as I had had 2 1/2  years ago. I sobbed in the waiting room before the procedure because I feared that like the ultrasounds I had after each miscarriage, all we would see on the monitor was an old, empty uterus.

Much to our surprise, we saw a tiny little bean with a beating heart. I cried when the technician put the heartbeat on the speakers. I could not believe it. We were really pregnant!

I wish I could end our story with a touching happy ending, where I am holding the newest little Webster in my arms, but we have not got that far yet. I don't know how this story will end, and I pray each day that it will have a happy ending, but for now, I want to leave you with this scripture that has helped me to remain hopeful. I read this scripture during the first week after I found out I was pregnant for the third time. I was distraught and asked Heavenly Father to comfort me:

"Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us and said: . . . bear with patience thine afflictions and I will give unto thee success" (Alma 26:27)

I have to say, I stopped dead in my tracks. This was the exact scripture I had read three years ago to the very month, but at that time I did not notice the part about the depressed spirit and the desire to turn back. I did not notice it because it did not apply to me at that time, but it sure applies now.

Am I guaranteed a happy ending? No, but I sure can hope for one.

12 week ultrasound

Have you grown tired of this picture yet?  Too bad because I can't get enough of it.

Happy Weekend everyone

Our Journey to Here

I have fantasized about writing this blog post for years, but now that the day has come I am nervous and full of doubt. Writing about my journey to having another baby somehow seems presumptuous and perhaps overly-optimistic because in all honesty my journey may not be over. I am painfully aware of how fragile life is, particularly one that is encapsulated within a six cm frame like the one our baby adorns at this time. However, after watching our baby bounce up and down on the ultrasound monitor, seeing his or her hand move as if he or she was waving to us, and hearing the doctor call him or her "uncooperative" and "busy", I knew it was time to let go of the fear and the doubt. It was time to enjoy whatever time I have with this little being and to proudly announce I am the mama of four children.

Thing 4, due to stir up plenty of shenanigans on November 20, 2013

My doubts also arise from the fact that you may not want to hear my story. In all honesty, you know much of it, and do you really need to know all of it?  Our story is really not that exciting! However, time and time again, I feel like I need to share it because there is a small chance that it may give one person the hope they need to carry on, the courage to face all obstacles in their path and the faith to believe that their dreams can come true.

I am also nervous about sharing our story because it is deeply personal. Sure, my story is full of physical trials that I had to overcome, but for the most part, it has been a spiritual journey, one that has transformed me in ways that I could never have imagined.This spiritual journey, although I will allude to it on occasion, is very sacred to me and I want to keep much of it private, but know this: at no point was I ever alone on this path. I know without a doubt that Heavenly Father has walked alongside me for the entire journey. He has been there to celebrate my highest highs and there to comfort me during my lowest lows. He was the one who directed me down this path to reclaim the dream of a naive, young girl, who wanted nothing more than a house full of rowdy, energetic kids.

It is hard to determine when exactly this story begins. It may have begun when I was a high school student and my friends would tease me that I would become the ultimate soccer mom, with a van full of boys. It may have begun in a little farmhouse in Dipper Harbour where I would gaze upon my brand new baby girl and daydream about having a house full of kids and homeschooling them all. It may have begun when I was 28 years old, confident that my notion of becoming a homeschooling mom of six was nothing more than the fantasies of a naive, young girl who clearly did not understand how the world worked, decided to have a tubal ligation after the birth of my third child and to devote my time to becoming a full-time teacher. It may have begun seven years ago when I nursed Avery for the last time and was struck so hard by the realisation that I would never nurse another baby again that I cried myself to sleep for an entire week. It may have begun when I would return home from a long, hectic day of work, and I would lie down in my bed, falling asleep to the recollection of all those days spent home with my kids when we  would paint the windows of our patio door in the sunshine, when we would make play-doh or dirty recipes in the mud, or when we would take long strolls in the neighbourhood looking for bugs and other creepy crawly creatures. It does not matter when my journey began, but it did begin, and so I will start our story in the spring of 2009 when I decided to toss all "logic" to the wind and quit my job as a teacher.

It was also in the spring of 2009 that I decided to meet with my doctor to discuss the possibility of having my tubal ligation reversed. I was pumped and I was excited! I finally felt like I was getting my life back and went into her office brimming with optimism and hope. Unfortunately, she did not share my optimism. She stared at me apologetically, and told me in all seriousness that a reversal would not work because according to the pathology report from my surgery there was not enough  of my fallopian tube left to reattach. All I could do was cry. Before I left, the doctor handed me a brochure for the infertility clinic in Moncton and told me that IVF (in vitro fertilization) would be the only option for us.

I went home that day and told Derrick the news. Neither one of us were comfortable with the idea of IVF, but we decided that if it would help us to have another baby we would give it a try. Three months later we visited Dr. Robichaud in Moncton. Sitting in his office on that hot, sunny August afternoon, surrounded by pictures of all the babies that had been born using IVF and other methods, I felt excited and optimistic once again. I remember turning to Derrick and exclaiming: "We could be pregnant by the end of the year! This could really happen!"

Finally, it was our turn to talk to the doctor. We went over our medical history with him and told him we would like to try IVF. He sat there quietly for a moment reading over our file, and then he looked up and said: "You should really think about having a Reversal done". I explained to  him how that was our initial plan but that after talking to my doctor we learnt that this was not an option for us. I fully expected him to nod his head in agreement, but much to my surprise, he laughed and said: "Those pathology reports are never accurate. All I need to do is two tests, one less invasive and one that involves surgery, to determine how long in fact your tubes are". Derrick and I looked at each other in shock. Dr. Robichaud continued: "With IVF we can start next week, but having your tubes reversed could take up to four months. The decision is up to you, but I would recommend the Reversal because it is not as expensive and it gives you more opportunities to become pregnant".

On the drive home, Derrick and I discussed our options. Even though I was nervous about the hormonal roller coaster IVF puts you on, the thoughts of being able to begin right away excited me. Also, I began to get nervous that after all the tests there may indeed be nothing left to my tubes, and we would have to have IVF after all.  We went back and forth with each idea for quite sometime, and then out of the blue, this quiet, calm feeling came over me and one word came to my mind: "Patience".  I looked at Derrick and told him with all surety that we needed to have the Reversal done and that this was the path for us. He agreed, and so we returned home and contacted Dr. Robichaud. We had chosen our path, and even though it was going to take a little longer, we were both confident that it would lead us to where we wanted to go.

Now, the story gets interesting.  What was supposed to take four months ended up taking an entire year thanks to the threat of an outbreak of the Swine Flu, which closed all hospital operating rooms to any elective surgeries. At the time, it felt like the longest year of my life, and there were times when I wanted to call Dr. Robichaud, toss aside our plans, and begin IVF. But, I didn't. In fact, one morning, when I was feeling at my lowest and ready to call it quits, I picked up my scriptures and began my morning scripture study. As I was reading, one sentence seemed to jump right off the page: "Be patient and I will grant thee success!" I knew at that moment, without a doubt, that this message was for me, and upon reading it, my resolve strengthened and I was able to carry on. The impression that I needed to be patient grew stronger everyday, and although I was growing dreadfully tired of waiting, I continued to do so with faith that Heavenly Father knew what was best for me. 

Eventually I had all the tests and passed them with flying colours. In August 2010, one year later from our initial visit, Derrick and I drove back to Moncton to have my long-awaited surgery. I will never forget how relieved I was when Dr. Robichaud stood at the foot of my bed and told me that the surgery was a huge success and that we could start trying to have our baby in one month. I fell asleep that night, still groggy from the anaesthesia, dreaming about the baby I would hold in my arms in a mere ten months.

DREAM ON, KRISTA!

. . . tune in tomorrow for the rest of  our story.