I always knew I wanted to be a mom.
So after being married for just a couple of years, my husband and I decided it was time to start a family. Easy-peasy -- I was pregnant after just a couple of months, and the pregnancy went as perfectly as one could expect. We had a beautiful baby girl in May, 2001.
In late 2002, when our daughter was a little over a year old, my cycle was late, so I took a pregnancy test, and it showed positive. We were surprised, as we had not been trying, or even talking about another child yet! I set up an appointment with my OB/GYN, but before I could get in, I started bleeding. I miscarried, and after much thought and prayer, we decided that it might be time to continue trying to build our family.
After six months of trying with no success, my doctor prescribed Clomid.
Keep in mind that my monthly cycles were WAY off schedule -- I never knew when I would have my period. Sometimes it was every 4 weeks, then it would be 8 weeks, then 6 weeks, then 4 again. My doctor did not try to figure that out, he just started the Clomid to try to help me get pregnant. This did not go well at all. I could only handle it for two months - I felt like Jekyll and Hyde. I remember one night having to place our daughter in her bedroom because it had made me so emotional that I was afraid that I would hurt her. I talked to my doctor about discontinuing, and his only other option was IVF. I walked away from his office discouraged more than ever.
In late 2004, we decided to seek other opinions, and I knew an OB/GYN through my job, so I started talking to her about my symptoms. She asked me to get a copy of my records and make an appointment with her. In January, 2005 she diagnosed me with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). That was the culprit behind my screwed up cycles, weight gain, moodiness, and infertility. Now things were starting to make sense! She gave me some dietary ideas, and prescribed Metformin. She told me the recommended dosage for my condition, but started me at a much lower dose, and said we’d work our way up. I also started taking a good prenatal vitamin and started eating healthier. Once I got my dosage up to the halfway point, my cycles became regular, and she kept me at that dose. Trying to get pregnant during this time seemed even harder than the years before - because now we were trying because we “had” to. Taking ovulation tests, and having sex because your doctor tells you to on certain nights is a lot less enjoyable...especially when it’s month after month after month.
Finally, after a year of Metformin, ovulation kits, and scheduled sex, and after over 3 years of hurt, anger, questioning God - wondering why He hadn’t given us this baby that we so desperately wanted - we decided to take a break.
We had tried long enough. I called my OB/GYN in February 2006 and told her that I was still going to take my Metformin, but wouldn’t be using an ovulation kit or scheduling any “dates” with my husband for the next few months. We were tired.
On April 1, 2006, my best friend called me in tears saying that she had just found out that she was pregnant.
I thought for sure she was joking, but knew in my head and heart she would never be that cruel. Then I noticed that she was crying, because she was so upset. She was upset for a couple of reasons: 1) she and her husband never planned to have children, and they were a little scared about this change that was coming, and 2) she was worried about hurting my feelings, especially while we were taking a break from trying. I was so excited for them! I didn’t tell her, but my cycle was a week late, but since that had been a normal thing for years prior, I was going to wait before getting my hopes up. After she called me, I had to take a test. It was positive. I was going to have a baby!! We got to walk through our pregnancies together - I got to be her encourager, and she got to remind me how good God is. Our babies were born one day apart in November 2006 - they will be 10 years old this year.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that God’s plans are perfect, even if we don’t always see it.
If I had gotten pregnant earlier - when I thought the time was right, who would have walked through my friend’s pregnancy with her? Who would have been there to encourage her, and who would I have had to encourage me?