Blog posts are usually very organic for me, they pop into my head and I write them rather quickly with spelling mistakes and bad grammar all included. I then go back and fix my mistakes hoping that the post looks polished and well thought out. This post however is taking its time and feels very forced, it is being typed at my kitchen table with my 22 month old son on my lap, my 3 year old playing next to me chatting away about the most inane things and of course what’s a day without Dora blaring on the tv. I am distracted to say the least.
I am a mom who wanted kids, ached and pained, kicked and screamed, got poked and prodded and worst of all was told that at the tender age of 35 I was of an advanced age for child bearing. Holy Crow, I was pissed. I didn’t want to be 35 when I first got pregnant, I wanted to do it right out of the marriage gate when I was 28, but things did not happen that way and it wasn’t until years of trying finally found me sitting in a fertility clinic picking a suitable sperm donor and having my fibroids and eggs measured to see if I was still able in my now elder years to become pregnant and bare children. I was given a bleak outcome, small eggs, big fibroids, 35 years old, IUI with Sperm Donor, there was not a great deal of hope from the doctors side of things, but after so many damn years of wanting kids I was not going to be discouraged. I thanked him, signed the paper work to say I understood that using fertility treatments could increase the chance of multiples which for me sounded like a win, to a fertility doctor it is a loss, the government does not like multiples and doctors that help create them, as they are a strain on the health system with many medical issues early on in their little lives. I left high with hope and went to the pharmacy to fill my prescription for clomid and wait for my sperm to arrive and my monthly cycle to kick in.
Two tries and success was ours, PREGNANT! It wasn’t long until I felt like something was wrong, I just had this weird feeling and when I went to the gynaecologist she told me that I was being a nervous mom and that she knew I would think something was wrong until I was holding a healthy baby in my arms and only then would I believe her. I thought she was full of shit and I was right. My baby was not ok and at 5 months into the pregnancy I gave birth prematurely on my bathroom floor and our little girl was stillborn. I was devastated and did the only thing I could think to do, jump back on the fertility train for another ride. I did not want to grieve or wait, but as it usually does life and my body had other plans for me. The doctors did not want me to try until the autopsy came back telling us what exactly was wrong with our little girl. They knew it was genetic, but wanted to be sure I was not the reason for the genetic default. The other kicker was my body would not co-operate and I would not stop bleeding. For the next 6 months I had numerous ultrasounds, more poking and prodding…YAY! I was put on birth control pills, not what a women who wants to have a baby is going to be very happy about. At certain points I was taking up to 3 birth control pills a day to try and stop the bleeding and to get my cycles back on track. It wasn’t until just recently that I found out I have Von Willebrands Disease which means my blood doesn’t clot so I bleed and bruise more then someone normally should. I still think those 6 months feel like the longest in my life.
6 months later, we had packed up our house, moved back across the country from BC to Ontario, we missed home and our families. We bought a small cottage that had been abandoned for 3 years and started tearing it apart and renovating it. In that time my husband started having second thoughts about using a sperm donor, he wanted to go back to the specialists and see if anything with his diagnosis had changed. Our original infertility diagnosis was Male factor due to unexplained Azoospermia. I was so pissed…AGAIN! This is when my kicking and screaming came into play. I knew that if he wanted to go see the specialist, it would mean more time waiting to try getting pregnant. We had found out that the genetic issue did not stem from me and we were advised to use a different sperm donor. I had stopped bleeding, my cycles where back on track and I was now a year older, but still ready to get going and my husband who had finally gotten on board after a longtime digesting our infertility diagnosis and looking into all our options, was now back tracking. But what was I going to say? He asked me straight out in the middle of one of my rants “Don’t you want a baby we have to be created with my sperm?” WTF, of course I did, nothing in this world would have made me happier, but we were told rather definitively by the doctor, or rather I was told “You will NEVER have biological children with your husband”. But love is strong and I loved him and wanted him to have his peace with it all as well. I waited another 5 months so we could both hear the word “NEVER” again.
The next month was a whirlwind. I found a fertility clinic, purchased more sperm and signed more paper work. Got poked and prodded and again two tries and I was pregnant. This time a happy healthy baby girl was born. We were finally on the other side of Infertility, we had battled it, kicked it’s ass, punched it in the face, called it bad names and spit on it’s entire being. We were winners. At least that’s how I felt. I was 37 when she was born, 2 years after we first walked into a fertility clinic and 9 years from when we got married and I threw my birth control pills out of the window. I was so excited that we had this little bundle of joy, I couldn’t wait to have another one, I always wanted 2 kids and waiting wasn’t an option for us, you know because I was getting really old now. So when our little bundle was 7 months old I headed back to the clinic to use up my sperm, I had 3 more vials left and was going to deplete my stash trying for another baby. The first month I was told I couldn’t even try, my ovaries had been hyper stimulated and it would not be a good time to try….I at this point was livid and it was in those moments that I learned that I am not a very patient person. So the next month when they told me I should wait again because I was only producing two eggs and it would be a waste of money and resources, I refused to listen and demanded that we go ahead. I got my way! 3 months later we found out we were having twins, and a month after that we found out that they had both tested positive for down syndrome. I think my world stopped in that moment, but only for that moment. Did I want to have an amnio, NO the risk of losing them was higher with twins, and even if they did have down syndrome, we would be prepared to pull all possible resources and give them everything that was needed. I said it before, Love is STRONG and we LOVED them. I went to 38 weeks pregnant with them and was so big I couldn’t even fit behind the steering wheel to drive anymore. A smooth, planned c-section and there they were, Boy 5lbs 9oz and Girl 6lbs, and they were perfect.
So now we were done. I had my babies, I got to experience pregnancy and we became a family of 5. I had 3 babies all in diapers and over the next year I slowly lost my mind and had it reaffirmed to me that I don’t posses any great skill when patience is involved. I was put on mommy drugs to calm my anxiety and regained a great love for white wine. I am now 39, 6 days away from turning 40 and my kids are all toddlers who never, ever stop. I am a SAHM and I am tired, frustrated and bored!…BUT as it is constantly pointed out to me when I complain about any of it, “isn’t that what you wanted??????”….
……I’ll save that rant for another post…….to be continued:
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