That's right! We're having a baby! We couldn't be happier, or more excited. I'm about 12 and a half weeks--coming to the end of the first trimester. Our little one is due the very beginning of March 2013. We were able to go in and hear the heartbeat yesterday! It was so amazing! It's finally starting to feel real--you know, besides the horrible nausea.
You'll probably have noticed that the title to this post is "Finally!" because, well, we've been waiting to make this announcement for more than a year now. In fact, this blog post (and what it would contain/leave out) has been forming in my head for probably about 5 months. So when we say, "finally!" We mean it :-)
We decided to share our experiences with trying to start our family, because when month after month we received bad news, it helped to be able to go online and find blogs, message boards, etc. that shared real experiences that offered hope--because I don't care if you are trying for 5 months or 5 years, it's hard, and you need a little hope every now and then. So here's some hope for you.
For those of you who are just happy for us, don't feel bad if you want to stop reading now. We'll forgive you, and this might be a little long!
Michael and I both love kids. We knew before we got married that we wanted what most people would consider a large family. When the time was right for us to start trying to have children, we didn't expect to have any trouble at all.
Four months later, we realized that something wasn't right. We finally decided to go to a doctor and see what was wrong. Which I should have done a lot earlier.
My doctor asked some typical questions and right away told me that something was definitely up, and set up a bunch of tests for me to have. He also briefly discussed some of the more common issues that may be causing our problems, one of them being Polycystic Ovarian Syndrom (PCOS). He said it was a fairly common one for what I was experiencing, but since I didn't fit the typical outward symptoms, (very tall, hairy, extremely overweight, deep voice, acne) further tests would be necessary--the most telling being an ultrasound which would see if I had cysts on my ovaries--hence the name of the syndrom.
I went to my ultrasound appointment, and as soon as I walked in, the ultrasound tech (nurse, dr.... I don't know) said "There's no way you have PCOS!" Which I took as a good sign. As the ultrasound took place, she told me that everything looked okay and that she didn't see any cysts--and I was so relieved!
Two days later I got a call from my doctor telling me that I
did have cysts on my ovaries. He was talking like I would already know this and trying to set up a follow up appointment to come up with a treatment plan, but all I could do was agree to a time and hang up. I was really shocked, and so was Michael, who had been with me at the ultrasound appointment. What did this mean? Would I be able to have children? Would there be surgery and invasive tests? What was going on?
This was about a month before Christmas. A Christmas that in previous months I imagined sharing with all our family and friends that we were having a baby. We had made plans thinking this would be our last Christmas--just the two of us. We would have our parents open these tricky little presents that told them we were pregnant. It would be fun and exciting to see their reactions and celebrate together. As you can tell, I had it all planned out perfectly.
This was a really hard time for us. It seemed everyone around us--in our ward, in our group of friends, on facebook, even in our families--was having babies. I cried a lot that Christmas. It really is hard even now, even as happy as we are with our current place, to look back on this time. Don't get me wrong, Christmas is Christmas and we had a lot of good times too--it was just a really trying period.
My doctor was very positive. He said that PCOS made it a little harder, but still very likely we would be able to conceive. He prescribed a few things for me to take, one being Clomid--a very popular fertility pill. The first time I took it was the week after Christmas, and our hopes were again high that soon, soon it would be our turn.
Those of you that read this blog know that Michael and I are devoted members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I want to say here that during all this time, we never stopped praying and fasting for the help we needed in all aspects of our lives, and although we still struggled and hurt, I know that we were given the strength that we needed to keep hoping. I am so grateful for a husband who holds the priesthood.
I went in for my first blood work to find out if I ovulated (the first step in conceiving, duh) and it came back negative. I was heartbroken, but my doctor remained positive, as did Michael. We kept praying, fasting, attending the temple and hoping. Hoping, hoping, hoping. Negative test results followed for the next six months.
It had then been a year of hoping and trying and being so careful because it could work at anytime and I could be pregnant, and I didn't want to hurt the baby. There are so many things that I didn't do in hope/fear of being pregnant. I know it sounds silly, and I sort of feel silly at all the things that I didn't do, or didn't plan on doing, just in case, but I don't think I would change my actions either.
After about one year, including seven months of failure on the "popular" fertility treatment, I was about at the end of my hope--even though I struggled against that. I was put on a new pill called Femara, which is actually a breast cancer treatment ( I know, weird) but is also used often in fertility treatments.
A month later I went in for a blood test and again received negative results. I cried and cried and cried--although I thought previously that I had probably cried my allotment of tears for the year previously. Michael was so wonderful and patient and hopeful and positive. I really think I might have been done at that point if it hadn't been for him.
But we kept going, and hoping and praying. And the next month it worked. It worked. My numbers were way above what they look for to tell them that it worked. As my nurse was giving me the good news I started crying again. Seriously, Michael is a saint for putting up with me.
Three days after our good news I took my first pregnancy test and it came back positive. Over the next week I probably took about 6 more. I couldn't believe it--we couldn't believe it! It was finally happening!
And that is our story.
some of the pills Stephanie has been taking.
She thought the little pink balls were cute,
so we took a picture
