that. What I couldn’t grasp…was why me. I thought that I had been through enough.
In late 2010 we were diagnosed with infertility. We were told that we had less than a 3% chance of conceiving on our own and that our only real shot at conceiving would be through hormone treatments and intra uterine inseminations (IUI) or in vitro fertilization (IVF) procedures. This was exceptionally defeating, but I made my mind up quickly and decided that I would do whatever it took to have a baby. I began daily hormone injections and had weekly blood draws and weekly ultrasounds to monitor my body’s response to the medications and to pinpoint the best time for the insemination. It was grueling and it sent me through the ringer emotionally, physically and mentally but I knew what my end result would
be and I knew it would be worth it. So, after 12 months and 10 IUIs I finally got the positive result I had been hoping for and on September 19, 2012 our little Penelope was born. All babies are tiny little miracles and ours was no different. In July of 2013 we went back to the doctor to try for baby #2. Poppi wasn’t even a year old yet, but we had no idea how long it would take us to conceive this time around. To our surprise, we conceived after 5 months and 4 IUIs. I literally thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. Not only was I over the moon about being pregnant again, but I was also ecstatic about being done with fertility treatments. No more injections, no more blood draws, no more planning my whole life around doctor’s appointments and procedures. We were going to be done. I got a positive test on December 5th, the day after my very best friend got a positive for her baby #2. I was beyond excited. I was going to get to experience what it was like to be pregnant with two of my best friends and get to share every cramp, twinge, craving, food aversion, cankles, bloating swollenness etc…you know all the good stuff. We had even discussed maternity picture poses to do together that we found on Pinterest. I had blood work done once a week for the next two weeks to monitor my HCG and it was rising just like it should have been. Around 6 ½ weeks I went in for an ultrasound and got to see the tiny little bean on the screen and hear the heartbeat. That is literally the best sound in the world to a new mother. You lay there holding your breath until you hear that beautiful sound. At week 9, I went for another ultrasound. Again, I saw my baby’s development and heard that wonderful sound. I left that appointment feeling confident and overjoyed. This pregnancy was going just like my last one. Unfortunately that confidence and happiness was shattered not even two weeks later. I had my doctor paged around 7 AM that morning after seeing the blood and he tried to keep my calm and give me other reasons for why I may be seeing this, but as the day progressed it got worse and worse and I had Trav drive me to the emergency room. After a little waiting and some blood work, they took me for an ultrasound. I didn’t even hold my breath waiting for the sound of the tiny heartbeat to break the silence in the room…I already knew. Everything after that, is just a blur. I was being handed pamphlets and prescriptions and lots of “I’m sorry”. All I wanted to do was go home and begin my grieving process and figure out how I was going to tell my closest friends and family. All I knew, was I wanted to do it quickly and all at once…like ripping off the band aide. The fewer times I was going to have to relive this, the better.
My friends and family were sympathetic and gave me the space that I needed. I had a lot of time to reflect and ask myself the hard questions like “Why did this happen?”, “Can I go through this again?” and “How do I get through this?”. My hardest question to answer was whether I would be able to put myself back in a position where there was the possibility of going through this pain again. I kept thinking about whether I would be okay with having one baby and whether there would be a time I would
regret that decision. I have a beautiful, happy and healthy baby girl…should I stop while I’m ahead? Should I take this as a sign? Maybe God is telling me to stop. Someone I know who is also battling infertility had made the decision with her husband to not go through with any treatments. She thought that maybe she was testing fate or in a way “playing” God and that if she went through with something that wasn’t originally in her cards, that she could get dealt a hand that she wasn’t prepared for…like a baby with a disability. So, was I doing the same thing? That leads me to “Why?”. I can’t tell you how many people told me the same line, “Everything happens for a reason”. It’s a tad cliché, but it is
true. Finding that reason, though, was the hard part. I desperately needed to find that, I needed to make sense of all of this. In the following weeks and months while wallowing in my own self pity I could only find one explanation, I was only partially responsible for my destiny. I believe that my path has already been paved for me and it is what I do with the curves, speed bumps and pot holes that are thrown in front of me that I control. I made a vow to myself to accept my infertility and accept my miscarriage and own it, but not let it define me.
For a loooooong time I was very silent, almost secretive about my infertility. It just isn’t something that comes up in conversation while hanging out with all your friends. Especially when 3 of them just announced their pregnancies after only trying for 1 month! I didn’t want to be the buzz kill at the party talking about my angry ovaries and barren uterus. So, instead I buried all my feelings. All of the extra hormones surging through my body from my daily injections, not only gifted me with an extra 40 lbs of plumpiness, but it also took my emotions to new heights and not in a good way. I literally felt like I was losing my mind. I didn’t look like myself, I didn’t feel like myself and I sure as shit didn’t act like myself. The worst part, I couldn’t explain it. One night I literally started crying because while I was peeling a potato I dropped it. I cried over a potato hitting the floor. I was changing. I was changing into someone that not only I didn’t recognize, but my husband didn’t recognize either and we would get in arguments over how distant I was being. I was even accused of having an affair. I can’t even begin to explain to you how hurtful that was. The worst part wasn’t my husband thinking I would betray him or our marriage, it was that I didn’t even realize I was doing it and I didn’t know how to explain my behavior because I didn’t have any control over my body or my mind. I could not comprehend what was happening to me. I was having a hard time finding joy in anything. I was 100% consumed by my infertility. It was always on my mind and it
seemed like I was always reminded of the fact that I was baby-less. Every baby shower invite I got…I cringed, every Facebook post announcing a pregnancy…I got spiteful, every new baby bump at work...made me want to scream. I had become empty, bitter, callous and just plain angry. I needed a new outlook. My girlfriend’s baby boys were on their way and I made a conscious decision to turn that jealousy into something positive. I was going to love those baby boys and be the best aunt I could be to them…and that is what I did. I also started talking about my infertility and began allowing people to ask questions. I found
that I was not alone. There were people out there just like me, going through the same erratic and unexplainable emotions and having the same guilt as I did for feeling that way. I was finding people that needed me as much as I needed them. For the first time, I was accepting my infertility and accepting the fact that it was a part of me whether I wanted it to be or not.
I was starting to see the answer to my “Why?”. Maybe I was meant to help people with their struggle with infertility, by going through it myself… Maybe it is the same answer for why I miscarried… Maybe I am meant to help even one person with their struggle with a miscarriage… The only way I can do that though, is by putting myself out there and talking about it. I have to take down the walls and allow myself to be vulnerable. So here I am! My name is Jenny and I am a wife and a mother. My husband and daughter along with the rest of my family and closest friends are the most important things in my life. Pizza, peanut butter and reality TV are my guilty pleasures. I love country music and outdoor concerts. I love flip flops and being anywhere near water. I battle infertility and I have an angel baby that I will someday meet again.
Above I pondered whether I would be able to try again and I decided that I could and that I would keep trying until I was holding Baby V #2 in my arms. So, my journey is not over. A new chapter is just beginning.