As I talked about in my first post, I have a beautiful five year son named Bentley. My pregnancy with Bentley was a surprise, not an accident, but not exactly planned either. Brian and I had started living together and within a few months, I fell pregnant without even trying. It was a pretty easy pregnancy except for some preterm labor in the last couple of months. Still, Bentley was born full-term and perfectly healthy, with all ten fingers and toes.
Brian and I loved being parents. We enjoyed our little family and Bentley was the best thing that had ever happen to us. Soon, we started thinking about adding a new addition. We wanted Bentley to have a little brother or a sister who wasn't too far apart in age. We decided to have another child and we began trying for one when Bentley was about a year old.
I figured that I would easily get pregnant again, but it was not the case. Month after month passed of trying and nothing was happening. I would feel nauseous one morning or be a day late with my period and my hopes would go up. But there was always just one line on that pregnancy test, time and time again.
Years went by. A doctor told me I had endrometriosis and that was why I couldn't get pregnant. So I underwent surgery to try and clear out some of the endrometriosis lesions in the hopes it would help. Afterwards, I still couldn't get pregnant. A few years later, I had the same surgery again and this time the doctor flushed out my fallopian tubes. Even then, nothing.
It felt like all these other women around me kept getting pregnant without any extra effort and having these beautiful babies. Yet, there I was, desperate and always with just that one negative line on another stupid pee stick. I couldn't afford fertility treatments, but I figured if I just kept trying, I would have to get pregnant some day. It happened once, it had to happen again, right?
Finally, after five years of effort and infertility, it finally happened. There were two whole lines on that pregnancy test! I can't even begin to describe our excitement and joy. We started talking about names and making lists of things we would need to prepare for the new baby. We wandered around the baby aisles at walmart, checking out all of the cute little baby clothes and toys.
Then a few days later, I was getting ready for bed and there it was. I had started bleeding. Not a little spotting, but full on bleeding. I frantically called the doctor, scared for the worse. Sure enough, the next day at the doctors, an ultrasound showed an empty uterus and a blood test revealed that my pregnancy hormones were too low. As I had feared, I had had a miscarriage.
What can I say, it absolutely crushed me. I was beyond depressed and I couldn't stop crying. I would be in the middle of a grocery store or having a conversation with a complete stranger and just break into tears. A month later, I got pregnant again and had another miscarriage within a few weeks. It was a very dark time for me. I gave up for awhile and stopped trying to get pregnant. I would get to a point where I would feel better about things, but then I would see something that would remind me of the babies that I had lost and the hurt would come flooding back. Even to this day, sometimes I think about it and still tear up, even now after I finally have my baby.
Almost a whole year passed and I was done. I figured I needed to focus on the family and child I already had. I toyed with the idea of adoption, but it seemed too complicated and expensive. I didn't want to actively try for a pregnancy anymore, I just couldn't deal with the heartache.
Then one day, out of the blue, I started praying. I'm not a very religious person, but I found myself suddenly talking to God. I prayed the whole day. I begged God for a baby. I said to God "OK I'm willing to give up if another child is just not the plan for us. But if it is, please dear God, give me another baby now because I just can't take this anymore and I am at the end of this rope."
The next day, on a whim, I grabbed another pregnancy test and it came back positive. After another eight weeks of tense waiting, an ultrasound showed us what we had prayed and hoped for, a beautiful loud heartbeat. Day after day went with no tell-tell bleeding. Then I hit that golden twelve week mark where we all knew this pregnancy was here to stay and we were finally going to have that new baby. We were getting the addition we needed to make our family feel whole.
Through faith and prayer, our little miracle had finally come to pass.
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