WARNING: This is Abigail's story and I want to tell it all and I want to start in the beginning. I can't promise I'll always go in chronological order but at least here at the start I'm going to try. So you're about to start reading the first of five posts that get increasingly more dark and raw with each telling. Some readers may find the content triggering and if you're family to us I know these will be especially difficult to read. I want to encourage you to keep noticing the dates and remember that you haven't gotten to the end of the story yet. Remember that even in these dark moments, we were never alone. You have four more posts after this one before it starts to get better.
January 23, 2022
I'm not sure how to explain what going through infertility is like. It is so hard. And I think no one can understand unless they've actually been here.
In school they act like getting pregnant is so easy. Like if you ever EVER have sex even one time, BAM. You're knocked up.
As a woman in her early 20s standing next to friends in so many weddings, the conversation around birth control was just...overwhelming. It sometimes feels like I'm the only person in the whole world that isn't afraid of having 12 children. I just do not think that's going to happen. It's not the norm. But people act like it would be if we all just stopped using birth control. Like it's inevitable.
The first time I was going through this, when we were trying for Theo, I started to cope with negative pregnancy tests by grabbing my journal and Bible and climbing in the bath. I copied down every single verse, word for word, starting in Genesis. Every verse that had to do with family, pregnancy, babies... I don't remember when during that year I started doing this. I'd gotten through 1 Samuel by the time I finally got my first ever positive test after two rounds of clomid.
Let me tell you...having a dozen kids seems to have been rare in a time when there was no hormonal birth control and having kids was the goal. I always think of Jacob and his 12 sons. Sure. He had over a dozen kids. But he also had two wives and two concubines.
Infertility is all over the beginning of the Bible. And you know what I noticed? The wording. It was always "and God remembered so-and-so and opened her womb." That phrasing about opening (or closing) the womb...it just seems to me that God is in more control of life than we want to admit.
I've believed that to be true ever since I was diagnosed with PCOS as an 18 year old girl sobbing in my first ever OB-GYN appointment because I was so terrified of being examined and I was a prude. That was over a decade ago now. I remember being at home after that appointment and the Lord speaking to my heart that He cares a little more about the creation of life than He does about what I choose to have for lunch. There are some decisions that I believe the Lord is a little more involved in than others. There is never a baby conceived for whom God suddenly exclaims "Oops! I forgot to write a story for that one!" I personally believe every baby is predestined to life. There are no accident babies or "oops" babies.
Walking through infertility though... It's different than the majority experience I've observed. The fear is different. You're not afraid of getting pregnant "at the wrong time" or having "too many" babies.
What a lot of people don't seem to know or talk about is that there are only a few days each cycle that most women can get pregnant at all. And for women like me, it's not even that easy. There are only a handful of cycles (we think) each year that I could possibly get pregnant...within those few days...of those few cycles. And we don't know when those days or those cycles are.
So as we're waiting to get in to a clinic for more thorough testing, every day feels incredibly heavy. I'm peeing on sticks every day. Constantly worrying about my weight, my diet, how much sleep I'm getting, my stress levels (ironic), the atmosphere in my marriage which needs to be perfect to create the right "mood"... And our whole lives have to be paused when we're trying to get pregnant. Especially this time around. It's even harder with a toddler around because there are only so many hours in the day and he's awake for a lot of them these days.
How do you explain to people who want to make plans with you that you really can't because you're trying to get pregnant? They don't understand that it's just not going to work for me to take care of a toddler all day in a messy house, run off to some appointment with them, get home to a husband who has had a completely different day than me and whom I hardly see, put down a toddler to bed and then say "Okay, drop your pants because we've got like an hour before I have to be in bed because we're getting up at 5 am and who knows if he's going to need us in the night tonight." It's not like I can make plans with you today and then just try again tomorrow. You don't understand. Every day matters when you're in the "fertile" window and you're like me. Not to mention it's not just you making plans with me - it's half a dozen people.
When you're going through infertility you are constantly aware of what day it is. There's a trick for figuring out your due date if you get pregnant. It's 40 weeks from the first day of your last period. So what you do is you take the first day of your last period, subtract 3 months, and add 7 days. And when you're going through infertility, you do this math every cycle.
Oh. I'm not pregnant again. Okay...July 9th. That's my next chance to have a baby in my arms finally. Then clomiphene citrate fails. Your dosage goes up. You really thought by this round you'd be pregnant by now. That's how it worked last time.
Okay...August 10th. I could finally have a baby August 10th next year. Fail again.
Okay...September 12th. Fail.
October 14th this year. Only a couple more tries to get a baby in 2022. Oh Dear God I hope we get in to a clinic soon. I'm so tired.
Do you understand? No... I know you can't. Even if you think you can. You just...you have to go through it to get it. I can't find the words to really describe how exhausted I am.
Michael and I have been united like never before through this last round of infertility but we are exhausted. And as the one with the cycle - the one with the problems - I am the one doing the math. I'm the one alerting him "it's fertile time again. We can do this. Who knows. Maybe this is the month. Don't give up."
Michael doesn't have the connection I have with our future children. I think that's normal for all daddies. But I realize that claiming to have a connection with children that we haven't conceived yet sounds clinically insane. I don't have a sensible explanation for you. To me, they're not just a dream of a preferred future. We named them all years ago. And I know their names are true somehow.
It feels like my babies are out there. Maybe in God's heart, not yet formed as they will be in my womb some day. This time infertility has been difficult in a whole different way. Ever since Theodore's 8 week ultrasound, something magical has happened in my heart. I didn't even know he was a boy back then. But I knew him. And I loved him deeply. And since that moment, I have had a similar connection with babies that haven't even been conceived yet. I want to meet them. I need to gather them up, like a hen spreading her wings over her young and holding them close.
So the urgency I feel each cycle to try again and not waste a single day isn't necessarily shared between me and Michael. For me it's like I'm separated from my babies and I am fighting to see them realized. For Michael it's a much more normal, sane, not clinically concerning experience. I'm the crazy one here. I know.
The past 6 months of preparing to start new clomid cycles, watch each one go by unsuccessfully, and officially hit the one year mark since we started trying again I have felt myself take on the cheerleading role for us both. Keep up the morale. Always be willing to try no matter how exhausted I am. Keep the goal in front of us so that we don't forget why we're going through all of this. But today Michael didn't want to try. And neither did I. We're both so tired. And discouraged. And for the first time in 3 years, I just couldn't be the cheerleader anymore.
Dear Jesus,
I'm sorry but I'm so exhausted. For 6 months now I've fought for us..I desperately want another baby. A happy full family, yes. But a baby too...But tonight I'm tired and gave up the fight. You never give up but I just did. Please open my womb anyway and give me a child.
January 27, 2022
Just now I've said "I believe I'm more than just a mammal" when someone I love said humans are just mammals.
I've had trouble standing up for what I believe...but now here we are. Lord, I will stand up for imago dei. Please give me courage and generosity and wisdom. Help me to be loving and faithful to you.
In Jesus' Name,
Amen
July 20, 2022 - Today
Looking back on these early journal entries from this year it is amazing to think how much has changed. We were not going through any treatments when I got pregnant with baby #2. It had been a couple of cycles since our last round of clomid and we were waiting for further testing to reevaluate a treatment plan. We were so excited to announce our miracle baby to everyone at church and to our families and friends who had all been praying for us through our journey of infertility.
Today I still believe that every baby is predestined to live. Every baby is a miracle. You are a miracle. God wanted you to exist. Your mom may not have known your name before you were conceived, but God did. The Bible teaches that He has a special name for all of His children and one day He will reveal those names to us (Revelation 2:17). I believe that includes the babies who died too soon. The ones whose mommas never got to know whether they were a boy or a girl. Who never got to name them.
I believe this because human beings are precious and special to God. He has made us in His image. That's what I was referring to in my prayer about "imago dei." I never imagined when I prayed that prayer that God would give me one of His Miracles and that I would have to stand up for her value as a real human being. I didn't know standing up for "imago dei" would mean what it has this year. But I still contend, after everything I know now, that my baby is not an accident. My baby is not an "oops." My baby is still a miracle.
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