Saturday, April 27, 2013

National Infertility Awareness Week {Join the Movement}

I never thought I'd be writing about this. I had a baby. I had an unplanned, uneventful, wonderful first child pregnancy. I was 19. I assumed because it had happened once, it would happen again.

Fast forward four years. We are happily married, starting exciting careers, finally getting on top of our finances. We decided to start trying. I was surprised at how long it took to get pregnant. (but in all honesty it wasn't long at all) We tried for five months before we got pregnant. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas. We were so excited. We couldn't wait to tell everyone, but we knew we had to wait. Just for the off chance we had a miscarriage. We waited, week after week after week. Second trimester was right around the corner. We starting planning how we would tell everyone. And then one day, 10 weeks in, we weren't pregnant anymore. We had a miscarriage.

In that moment, everything, everything changed. An entire lifetime planned out, and it was gone. I didn't know how badly it would hurt. I felt the biggest void. How do you move past it?

Time. Time is how you heal.

We knew we weren't ready to try again. It was too soon, too raw. But, we got pregnant again. It happened, against all odds, we were to have our baby afterall. Everything I had read said not to worry about miscarriages again. Having one didn't increase the chances of having another. We were still cautious, still very scared. And then one day, 5 weeks in, we weren't pregnant anymore. We had another one. The second time around we weren't as emotional invested. It never seemed real.

When I was little, around the same age as my daughter is now, I used to beg my parents for a brother or sister. I wanted one so badly. All of my cousins and friends all had siblings. I just couldn't understand why I didn't get to have one too. Every birthday, every coin thrown into a fountain, every Christmas, I would ask for the same thing. My parents, they would avoid the topic.

Story asks all the time when the new baby will come. We never told her about any of them, but its just something she's set on. She wants twins, and boy baby and a girl baby. She will then show me how she will hold them and feed them and where they can sleep in her room (it's normally in the closet) She doesn't understand the immense pain each question brings. In her mind, its not a big deal and she's a little mad it hasn't happened yet.

I don't think we are infertile. I don't think it's hopeless. I know it's only twice and that our struggle is miniscule compared to so many others. But it's also not nothing. There is a problem. Something that will have to be fixed if we ever want to have another baby. I know it's me. I know that I am going to have to be the one to make the biggest change. I am the one with the disease. While we were trying to get pregnant the first time I researched Celiac's Disease and found that it does cause infertility. I didn't take in to account the effects it has on carrying a baby full term.  This is our fertility struggle. We don't seem to have a problem getting pregnant, we have a problem staying pregnant.

So this is my sadness. Not that we can't get pregnant. But that we did, twice. It's so hard not to think about the babies that would have been. To imagine what would be happening at this moment. How different every day would be.


Memorial necklace -Distinctly Ivy

5 comments:

  1. I love you....the words just don't seem adequate.

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  2. Hi Faith, I'm here from NIAW Bloggers Unite. I'm so sorry about your miscarriage. My heart breaks for you because I know that sort of pain. I've been there...not exactly where you were, but something like it. Again, I'm so sorry. I know that it can be easy to minimize our struggles when we compare them with the people who've had seven miscarriages and two failed adoptions (or whatever), but I want you to know that your story...those precious babies you lost...matter fully. Not just to you, but to everyone they would have known in their lives. My prayer for you is healing, and also, that it won't be long before you are holding Story's little brother or sister (or both) in your arms. Blessings on your journey.

    Also, I am crazy about the fact that your daughter's name is Story. That's just beautiful. I kinda wish my name was Story. (-:

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much for your kind words! Yeah, Story is the best name ever :) Not sure if we can top it.

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  3. Thank you so much for sharing your story--I could feel the loss through your words. I honestly feel like secondary infertility is so incredibly cruel, because a) you sit there going, "I did this before, why won't it work now?" and b) you have those sibling requests from your first miraculous child. I don't suffer secondary infertility, but I know many who have and it is so painful. Those babies were special and loved and their loss is real and meaningful. Also, I love, love that memorial necklace. I am also Celiac and hate that it adds another layer of infertility into the mix, although I did read that if you are consistently GF then it is mitigated... at least I hope that's true! Peace to you and here's to Story's closet twins becoming a reality.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much! Infertility in general is one of the worst things. Secondary infertility adds another layer. I wasn't diagnosed with Celiac until Story was two. I've heard that as well. I unfortunately work in an Italian restaurant and can never really get away from it. We are taking time off from trying to focus on a better career path.

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Hello All! I'm Faith- and welcome to Pike's Place. Here you will find an assortment of DIY, house related posts, a little bit of fashion, and family. Take your time and have a look around!
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