As excited as I was to leave 2016 in the dust, I always dread the first week of January. It seems like the most memorable, but unfortunately devastating dates of my life all occurred during the first week of January. Different years, of course, but still. The first week of January…
January 4, 2008 was the first time I found out I was pregnant. I was 21 years old, and not in the greatest situation, but I was ready and excited for this. I really never thought I would get pregnant. I had never been on birth control, my PCOS symptoms were terrible. I had about 3-4 periods a year, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy for me to get pregnant. I think I’ve known this deep in my heart forever. Well, it happened. Without trying! Ha. It seems unbelievable to me now. I felt crappy all day. I slept a lot, and my stomach was giving me a fit. I thought it was the spaghetti we had eaten the night before. I was talking to my friend on the phone and was planning to go to her house to hang out later. She told me I should stop by the Dollar General right by her house and grab a test just in case. I really didn’t think it was possible I was pregnant, but I grabbed a test anyway. I had a boyfriend, and I was madly in love, but he wasn’t. He was a cheating, lying asshole that played me like a game. I remember being in my girlfriends bathroom, and taking the test. I sat it on the edge of her bathtub and watched it. OH SHIT. It was positive immediately. Like I said, I had irregular/scanty periods, so I had no clue how far along I was or anything! I told my boyfriend (Should I even call him that? Probably not.) when he got off work that night. He went and bought more tests and I took those too. All positive. He was leaving for some military training in a couple of days so we decided to go to the Emergency Room to see if we could gain some knowledge about this pregnancy. They did blood work. I remember that my beta was over 3,000. I was definitely pregnant. Going by the size of my uterus and beta, and when I “thought” my last period was – they gave me a due date of September 10, 2008. They said congratulations and sent us on our way. I made an appointment for a few days later with an OB/GYN. In the meantime we told our families, and friends. Me, excitedly, and him reluctantly. I was over the moon. He, not so much. He mentioned more than once how the best thing that could happen would be a miscarriage. Looking back now, I see it was such a fucked up situation. My appointment came, and I went alone on January 8, 2008. They performed a TVUS and I laid there in silence watching the huge screen across the room, waiting to see something. Finally I saw a flicker. OH MY GOD is that a heartbeat?!? I said, “Is that it?!” and she said “Oh my god. Stay right here” and then she practically ran out of the room. I knew it was something bad. She came back with the doctor and they told me “Yes, that is a heartbeat, but this pregnancy is in your tube, and you have to go to the hospital now” – They wouldn’t even let me walk. Someone had to come get me and take me to the hospital. The Doctor said he would meet me there. I was in Alabama. I was away from my family in Florida. I was terrified. The boyfriend was at training in Georgia, and was barely replying to my texts or calls. I went to the hospital and they gave me a shot of Methotrexate and decided to keep me for the night in Labor and Delivery. Thank goodness they did, because late that evening while I was watching the Tyra Banks show (about teen pregnancy oddly enough) my Fallopian tube ruptured. I remember it happening. I felt it. It was an indescribable pain. It was so excruciating that it is hard for me to explain. I remember it would ebb and flow. I could get a few breaths and then this shooting pain in my shoulder had me screaming for help. I remember someone telling me to keep it down because I was scaring the other mothers. I vaguely remember saying I didn’t give a fuck about the other mothers. They are having their babies and I am losing mine. I had emergency surgery and they removed my right tube and the pregnancy, which they estimated to be between 7-9 weeks. Hard to tell with a ruptured ectopic. When I woke up my mom was there. She had flown from Florida. Apparently the Doctor called my parents directly and told them I had lost a lot of blood, and was in bad shape. He told them someone that could make decisions for me needed to be there ASAP. The next few weeks are a whirlwind. My mom stayed with me a few weeks and talked me into moving back to Florida so they could help take care of me. So, I did. I never saw “the boyfriend” again. He never called to check on me or anything. He has never acknowledged the baby I lost that was supposed to be born on his Birthday. What a dick. Good riddance.
I want to make this part short and sweet, and leave out lots of details, but lets just say I got married soon after I came back to Florida and we started TTC immediately. From late 2008 to 2012 we underwent Clomid and Femara cycles and T.I. with zero success. I was about 100 pounds overweight and miserable. We divorced and both moved on.
On September 25, 2013 I met my husband Anthony. We met online, but soon figured out that we had mutual friends, and he was actually a childhood friend of my brothers wife! She is the one that convinced me to go out with him! I really wasn’t sure if he was my type, but I said, “What the hell” and we went on a date. That was the beginning of the rest of my life. We had a great first date and have been together ever since. I knew that I wanted to marry him, and that he was “the one” for me. He was trustworthy, and honest. He was kind, and he made me feel pretty and special, when I hadnt felt that in years, maybe ever. We knew we both wanted kids, but I wanted to focus on getting healthy first. My doctors assured me that if I would just lose the weight my PCOS issues would go away and I would probably get pregnant on my own. So, on April 3, 2014 at 243 pounds I underwent a weight loss surgery called The Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy. They removed 80% of my stomach. After some complications, which I will write about at another time – I lost ONE HUNDRED POUNDS in about 7 months. When I hit my goal weight of 143 pounds we decided I would come off birth control and just see what happens. I was SO EXCITED when I had a “normal cycle” right away and continued to have 32 day cycles like clock-work for the first time in my life. My PCOS is GONE! Well, after only 5 months of trying I found out I was pregnant on May 6, 2014. I was 16DPO and I only had a faint line on my test. In my gut I knew that wasn’t good. I should have a strong line at 4w2d pregnant. I went to the Doctor and my dip test there was positive too! They gave me a due date of January 7, 2015. My first beta came back at 56. My second beta was 101, and they “thought they saw a sac on Ultrasound.” I knew this was not good. Next beta went down. Next beta shot up into the 300’s. Maybe this was going to be a miracle. My Doctor knew how long I had waited for this and he let me wait and see what would happen for as long as we safely could. These betas not rising appropriately went on until I should’ve been 8 weeks pregnant. We still couldn’t locate anything on Ultrasound. So, after feeling confident that wherever this baby was, it was not going to be a viable pregnancy, we decided to do Methotrexate again. After my first shot my beta went up again. They admitted me and gave me more Methotrexate, and we were discussing surgery to try and locate the pregnancy. I remember being so numb, yet so fucking angry. I didn’t have much to say to anyone. Anthony was as supportive as he knew how to be. My parents were great, and so were my other family and friends. I had tons of support, yet my depression and anger was on another level. Unexplainable even still today. I had waited 8 years to be pregnant again and it was ripped from me once again. To make it even worse I had to lay there while they gave me 3-4 shots that would “dissolve it.” – IT?? That IT was what I had been waiting for for almost a decade. We took several months off TTC and started back again with a new R.E. We did 3 IUI’s with him, all unsuccessful. I wasn’t sure what would happen after the IUI’s, because there is no way in hell we can afford IVF. Ever. Devastated, yet again.
I signed up to receive alerts about IVF clinical trials in Florida. Shortly after I did I received an email about a study in our area. It was called the IVF-Megaset study. After jumping through tons of hurdles, we were accepted into the study. We were getting a full IVF cycle for $4,000. With help from my parents and a loan we paid the $4,000 and were on our way! After 8 days of stims I had a dominant follicle. My first IVF cycle was cancelled. Since it was a clinical trial, we could only use the drug that was assigned to me, and there was nothing we could do about this dominant follicle. This was the end of this cycle. FUCK MY LIFE. I had my WTF appointment with the Doctor and he offered to really help us out financially as far as doing a “real” IVF cycle. He waved several fees for us and was very generous with his pricing. He made it possible for us to try again, and I have had some INCREDIBLE friends donate medications to me to make this next IVF a possibility.
Ironically enough, here I am, in the first week of January and my period is due this Saturday at the latest, which would be January 7th. The date that our baby should’ve been here two years ago. What is it with the first week of January and me? I hope this is synchronicity at its finest and this period is going to bring me my Rainbow baby. I am tired of waiting. My heart is tired. I am ready to be a mom. I have been, dammit! I am tired of watching everyone around me get what I want. It has to be my turn soon. It really just has to be.
Please, Universe – hear me. I am ready. I am thankful for the life we have but we want to add to it. Please, make this first week of January a good one. Let this be the start of our baby coming to be with us.