The Man!
When I was 33 years old, I decided it was time to have a baby. My career was in full swing, I had a great home, and I was married. My life was flowing in ways that it not before. At this point, I wrote down three boy names and three girl names. Convinced I would have twins, it was imperative to have all the names ready.
Plan A.
When I was 34 years old, my doctor suggested I get tested for block Fallopian tubes and any several other tests for infertility. Being that I was over 30 years old and had not gotten pregnant in 6+ months of trying. And, then it began.
Plan B.
My 'Fertility" doctor performed a series of wretched and painful tests on my body. He was anything but compassionate. His demeanor was so cold and he boasted of "his" amazing successes. After these tests and blood work and more tests, it was decided that I should be on Clomid, in an attempt to boost the production of viable ovum (eggs).
Plan C.
As I began to take these powerful drugs, my body became an over-achiever and created not only 18 viable ovum, but a large tumor in my uterus. My body thought I was pregnant and this tumor soon grew to the size of a grapefruit. Fast forward and I am in emergency surgery, less than three months after starting the experiments.
Plan D.
Let the surgeries begin! Once the tumor was removed and endometriosis and scar tissue, I was put on even more powerful drugs. Injected in my belly, the new drugs would kick start the now super ovaries into releasing the many ovum on a certain day. This brought on the "schedule" for when to be intimate with my husband. No pressure...No Fun. We are in the business of getting pregnant and it is a full time job, with a team and a calendar. Each month my brother-in-law, a paramedic, would come over and inject this drug into my abdomen. The needle was long enough to reach deep into my body and release a compound of horrific chemicals. And then it happened, I was pregnant!
Plan E.
After feeling a bit odd, I got a pregnancy test and took it. Negative! I was crushed and cried for an entire day. At the doctor's office, I was given a blood test; POSITIVE! The next day, and the next, and the next, I was given a blood test to determine that my numbers were rising. "You're having a litter!" exclaimed the nurse. WOAH! I was having twins.
Plan F.
Failure.
Pregnant and watching my body change, reading everything about being a Mom and feeling the flutter of babies, I was overjoyed. One evening I began spotting. The on-call nurse said this was normal and not to worry. Off to bed. At some point, I recall crawling into the bathroom and howling in pain. My husband and Mom rushed me to the hospital and I was taken to surgery. When I awoke, I asked how my babies were doing. Silence. Please wait for the doctor. They are gone. Sorry. You can start again in 30 days.
Plan G.
Garrett!
Pregnant, miscarriage. Pregnant, miscarriage and so on. Each time, I would blame myself, and feel like such a huge failure to everyone. Each time, someone I knew was pregnant and having a baby. One friend went so far as to hide her pregnancy because she felt guilty for getting pregnant so easily. I, in turn, decided that being a Mom is what I wanted. No more drugs. No more torture. Adoption was the option.
On, December 26, 2002, my precious son was born. He is the gift of life. He is the reason I am a Mom. At 36 years old, and after countless experiments on my body, my life was complete with a newborn son. Surreal and so awesome!
Fast Forward...The Man!
This year, my Man, will turn 12 years old. He is extraordinary. This precious, gentle, loving soul is a testament to the power of the universe. He is a manifestation of love.
I am immeasurably grateful for him.
Plan H.
Healing.
Once my son was born, I had been off these chemicals for quite some time and I believed my body to be whole again. Then started the aftermath. More tumors, gallstones, scar tissue, even another pregnancy lost. And began what was to be 8 surgeries to remove all of the organs ruined by all the chemicals. A new Mom and quickly I became a regular at surgery and recovery.
The light in all of this is my son. He showed me the pure joy of life. The deep laughter of discovery. The amazing wonder and purity that is a child.
Healing.
