Pregnancy and Infertility

I have known for most of my life that I was likely going to be battling with infertility, even before I knew what infertility really was.  I remember I used to casually tell my friends that, “Oh, I had a bad infection/surgery and I might have a hard time having kids.” It was something my mom had told me when we talked about how my appendix burst when I was four.  It was just part of the story.  How “the doctor took extra time cleaning out the infection, making sure none got left behind because he wanted to give me the best chance for having kids in the future” because infertility after appendicitis is not unheard of, but being so young I might be able to heal with no issues. So the discussion about infertility started early, even if the “I” word was never specifically said.

Recently I realized that I grew up consciously and subconsciously knowing that growing my family would be difficult.  When the topic of children came up with my husband (long before we got married) I warned him that, while I definitely wanted a bunch of kiddos, it might not be that easy.  Then I was diagnosed with PCOS (read about that here) and still, it was just kind of whatever.  I was warned it might be an issue, but because we weren’t trying for kids it didn’t really sink in; instead, it just joined the background information about why it might be harder to get pregnant, something that hovered in my subconscious and was only paraded out when having kids was brought up.  It was the future, and I used that as a shield. Every so often, it would make it through my armor and I would be sad and depressed but I would push it away, to deal with in the future.

If you’ve be reading my blog you know that once we started trying for kids, the longer were tried, the rougher the emotional roller coaster got.  If I am honest with myself, I admit that getting pregnant took less time than some people with PCOS.  Sometimes it makes me feel like an infertility imposter.  There are woman who took years longer than I did to get pregnant, and I only took 16 months.  It’s still hard to believe I am actually pregnant.  I have seen my baby on an ultrasound; I have seen their little heartbeat and watched them move and wiggle and dance, but still it seems surreal. I’m also always paranoid that this might end badly.  I’m hoping this will wear off, but for now I am hovering between fear and optimism.

I think the game changer for me, in dealing with my infertility and shortening my battle, was knowing early.  We didn’t try for a year, and then seek out help only then to get diagnosed with an infertility issue.  While my husband didn’t want to jump straight to anything harsh or invasive to treat my infertility, I started the journey by seeing a doctor and starting with a battle plan.  I had medical support in my corner from day 1. What I think also helped, in some small way, was I was able to come to terms with my infertility slowly over my entire life but, on the other side of that coin, I feel like it is also what makes it hard for my pregnancy to sink in.  Basically for my whole life, I told myself I might not be able to have kids, so now that it’s happening it doesn’t feel real.

I’m hoping that once I can feel the baby moving, the reality will set in.  For now, I am optimistically excited and  I am trying to enjoy being pregnant (now that I have survived the first trimester).  I am getting antsy to start really planning a nursery and baby registries.  I want to create everything for my baby, so I feel like that is a good start. 

Our Little Nugget

So after a good appointment with my doctor, we scheduled an ultrasound to see our tiny human. That may have been the longest weekend ever (appointment on Friday, ultrasound first thing Monday morning).

The ultrasound was a bit nerve wracking ... I didn't entirely know what I was looking at and the tech told us that she would take measurements first and explain afterwards.  The entire time, I was looking for a heartbeat ... that was literally all I cared about.  I didn't care how far along I was as long at the baby had a heartbeat.  Between the bings as she took images and made measurements and her stoic silence, I was so nervy.  I didn't see the heartbeat and the tech never cracked a smile ... and then the waiting was over and she FINALLY started explaining what we were seeing.

We have a healthy looking little olive.  She showed us the tiny little flicker of a heartbeat (so I was worried for nothing). Everything looks good so far.  Our wee human measured 8 weeks, 6 days at the appointment ... so they are currently due on my husband and my 3rd anniversary.

So eve though I am exhausted, frequently nauseated, and hormonal ... I am so in love and so excited.  I can't believe this is happening.

The Glow

(continued from The Glimmer)

So after seeing the potential good news from the ovulation test (after all, this is waaaay past the proper, allotted viewing time), I glance over at the pregnancy test.

...

There was the faintest of lines.  What? Huh?  I had never seen a positive line on a pregnancy test before, except the one time that I looked at a test the next day, so it was totally an evap line (long story short, I may have made a slight fool of myself, and told a couple people discreetly (although I did preface it with that doubt (because I knew it could be an evap line)) and opted out of drinking at a bachelorette party ... and tested every couple of days after that, with negative results, so OBVIOUSLY not pregnant).

So I was still freaking out ... I had taken plenty of pregnancy tests of this brand and never, ever had an evap line with this brand of tests. So I call my husband in to see if he sees it (he does) and explain that we shouldn't get too excited because it was after the viewing time, but at the same time I had diluted my pee because I was testing a theory (and even though I am normally scientific about these things, I didn't even think to do a control pregnancy test on undiluted urine).  He suggested using one of the spare early pregnancy tests, to see what happens (without waiting for a build up in the bladder, to concentrate the urine).

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