We've made it to 16 weeks, hallelujah!
Can I just tell you how relieved and thrilled I am to be here? It's such a surreal thing, being pregnant again. I'm marveling in every single day of it, because I know this is the last time I'll experience it and I want to relish every single moment. I cherished the experience of being pregnant with Super Boy, too, but knowing this is the last time I will be here, after all we went through to get here, I want to burn every second of it deep into my soul. It is truly surreal.
After all the years of trying and failing to conceive, after the two failed IUI attempts and then the miscarriage, as the clock continued to tick and I continued to get older...
I've mentioned before that the only thing that kept me going through all of it was the gut-level belief that there WAS another child for us, somewhere, waiting. Still, as we went into our fourth IUI, I was forced to think about what I would do if, God forbid, we got to the end of our sixth IUI and I still wasn't pregnant. For the first time in years, I had started picturing our life without that final family member. It was like looking through a very cloudy, blurry window, picturing that outcome, and it hurt my heart to envision it, but I had to at least try to prepare myself for what I dreaded. Which isn't to say that our family as it is was inadequate or somehow unsatisfactory, because it wasn't and isn't. But it was the thought of giving up the family I always envisioned us having that made it hurt. To me, not having that last child join us would always be a loss, a dream that didn't come true.
Knowing that our dream IS coming true, that my last sweet baby is growing and thriving, getting ready to join us in May, makes me smile from the inside out. I am so unbelievably, inconceivably grateful, I can't even properly express it.
And there is nothing sweeter than when Super Boy puts his hands on my belly and rubs it, saying he can't believe his little sister is in there, that "we're" finally getting a baby. I dreamed of this for him as much as for us. He has wanted to be a big brother forever, and knowing that he will get his wish is incredible. My heart feels fuller than ever!
My hope for all who have struggled to have a baby is that your dreams will come true very soon, too. If I could wave a wand and make it happen for you, I would, in a heartbeat. All I can do is encourage you to keep believing it will happen, to envision your life with that baby, to paint a mental picture of it so vividly that it is impossible for it NOT to become reality. I am fervently praying for all of you that your miracle is just around the corner.
Until next time,
SW
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
power of prayer?
People have often told me over the years that they were keeping me/us in their prayers that God would answer our prayers and give us another child to complete our family. I always appreciated the sentiment and was grateful for their prayers, as I was of course also praying HARD AND CONSTANTLY for the same thing. Only it seemed like God wasn't listening. To any of us.
I'm Catholic. I'm ashamed to say I don't understand my religion completely, but I'm working on it. I have a few big issues with the Catholic Church, and sometimes I wonder if I truly am a Catholic then, or if I'm really "just" a Christian. I'm not sure that it matters entirely what my label is, though.
What I do consider myself to be whole-heartedly is spiritual. I DO believe in God. I DO believe there is a higher power that created us all and guides our lives in ways big and small, and that all of life MEANS something, whether we ever figure out the meaning or not.
So, through the past four-and-a-half years of trying for another baby, yes, I have prayed. Not just to God and Jesus, but to the Universe-at-large. I have prayed that we would find the last member (or members) of our family, somewhere, somehow.
When after three-and-a-half years of trying on our own under the care of my regular ob-gyn we were still not pregnant, I made an appointment with our fertility specialists. I had thought about seeking help from them sooner, but something always held me back. Admittedly for awhile it was a financial consideration, as our insurance wouldn't cover testing or treatment for infertility. But even when we came into new insurance that would cover testing and treatment (up to and including IUI but NOT in vitro), I hesitated to take that step. Maybe it was a matter of feeling ashamed that after achieving one pregnancy (Super Boy) easily and without assistance, we were now completely incapable of repeating our success; maybe it was a bit of resistance due to the sheer sterile mechanics of it all and not wanting to completely rely on medicine & science to make it happen at the expense of love and romance.
How silly of me, I know. For starters, while the love was always present, the romance was long gone! That went out the window after about Year #2 of trying to conceive without success. Beyond that point, it was like a critical monthly mission planned with military precision more than any kind of stolen romantic moments. I had laser-like focus on my window of fertile opportunity, and Super Man just jumped when I said jump. Or, well, you know.
Very hot, yes?
With the first IUI, we sort of knew what to expect, having talked it through with the doctors, but we both felt a little weird about the whole thing, given that we wouldn't even be in the same room when the insemination actually happened. Super Man would go in to the fertility clinic early in the morning, do his thing in a specimen cup, and drive his usual hour commute to work. Two hours later, I'd show up at the fertility doctors' office, strip from the waist down and the doctor and his med student assistant would attempt to impregnate me, with Super Man's swimmers.
Tres romantique, eh?
The only thing that remained spiritual about our new, more scientific attempts to conceive was the praying. As I'd lay on the table for the required 8 minutes after each IUI, I would pray the entire time that our prayers would finally be answered and I'd get pregnant with another baby. I'd cry, too - I'm a hyper-emotional person on my best days, and trust me, the fertility medications only "enhanced" that aspect of my personality. Think PMS ALL THE TIME. Between the praying and the crying and the enormous hope bursting forth from my chest, I felt convinced each time that we would MAKE this happen, by sheer force of will and want.
And yet, I was let down time and again.
And then something happened.
I met a wonderful woman through the new church we joined at the same time we began seeing the fertility specialists. This woman happens to be a nun. And I felt an instant spiritual connection to her.
I can't explain it, and believe me, I've tried to understand it. All I can say is that she reminds me very much of one of my grandmothers, the one I lost too soon, when I was only 10. That grandmother is the only member of my family that I closely resemble, and I always felt I had a special relationship with her, as a child. To see Sister A. and see so much of my grandmother in her was astonishing.
But the connection I felt to her went beyond that; it was like I knew we had been brought together on purpose, at that time, for a reason. I knew she was there to help me as I continued on - and will eventually finish - my journey to try to have another child. What I am meant to be to her, I don't know - but I suspect she does.
I felt compelled to tell her about our struggle, and to ask her for her help in the form of prayer. It was so weird, how strong the urge was, because I usually get to know people a little bit before I bare that part of my life to them. But I shared our situation with Sister A. and asked for her help. She didn't judge me, she didn't make me feel bad or guilty for pursuing fertility treatment; she just told me sincerely and with great kindness and respect that she would be praying for us, and would ask her sisters from her Mother House in Ohio to pray for us, as well.
Over the following months, as we continued on our fertility treatment path, Sister A. would periodically approach me or email me to see how things were going, and to assure me that she was still praying for us constantly. She would send me special prayers in the mail and via email, and include us on the weekly prayer list (without naming us, per my request).
I found out earlier this year that she was leaving our parish and taking on a new ministry in Kentucky, working with the poor in the mountain communities. I was devastated to learn that she was leaving, considering I'd just found her a few months prior, but I knew in my heart she had to answer her call. It was embarrassing how strongly I was reacting to her news, with tears and true sadness to lose her. She assured me she'd stay in touch, and wasn't leaving until summer besides, and she put me at ease. Still, when the end of the religious education classes came around in early April and the going away celebration was had for Sister A., I couldn't stop crying. I was truly heartbroken to know she'd be gone soon.
When I found out that IUI #3 worked at the very end of April, Sister A. emailed me the day after to see if I had any news, almost as though she KNEW I did. I shared the happy, long-awaited news with her and she was thrilled for us. Her sisters back in Ohio emailed us their congratulations as well, and I was so incredibly touched. Over the next two weeks, Sister A. sent me adorable baby-themed notecards so I could continue to write her and update her on the pregnancy after she left for Kentucky, which I was so touched by.
Unfortunately, I lost that pregnancy just a few weeks after it began. I immediately wrote Sister A. to tell her the devastating news. I told her that I was heart-broken, numb, struggling with turning to God for comfort, after He had given me the gift I'd waited so long for only to take it away. She told me how sorry she was, but encouraged me to keep faith, not to give up, to trust that there was a reason. I resisted embracing that thought, but it turns out, she was right.
When I tried to get pregnant with Super Boy, it took us three attempts. I was terribly sad when the first two failed, but after I got pregnant with Super Boy and delivered him - my beautiful, healthy, wonderful little boy - it occurred to me that if I had gotten pregnant on either of the other two attempts, I wouldn't have HIM -- I'd have a different child. And how could I wish for that when the child I ended up having was so perfectly wonderful and lovely and everything I could have ever dreamed of and hoped for and more?
I believe now that the pregnancy in April happened to make me realize that I was right to keep trying, even though everyone around me seemed to be losing faith that I'd ever get pregnant again. That all-too-brief pregnancy happened to keep me from giving up. And I believe that I lost that pregnancy because the child we're meant to have is still coming to us. I firmly believe - and always have - that there IS another child in the Universe destined for us. When it happens, it will happen because THAT is the child we're supposed to add to our family.
Sister A. was right to encourage me to keep faith in God, to trust that He has His reasons. I see that, and I believe that.
Sister A. emailed me right before our fourth IUI attempt from late August, to let me know that she continues to pray for us, always, and that I'd been in her thoughts. I think that was a very good sign.
And I still believe.
I'm Catholic. I'm ashamed to say I don't understand my religion completely, but I'm working on it. I have a few big issues with the Catholic Church, and sometimes I wonder if I truly am a Catholic then, or if I'm really "just" a Christian. I'm not sure that it matters entirely what my label is, though.
What I do consider myself to be whole-heartedly is spiritual. I DO believe in God. I DO believe there is a higher power that created us all and guides our lives in ways big and small, and that all of life MEANS something, whether we ever figure out the meaning or not.
So, through the past four-and-a-half years of trying for another baby, yes, I have prayed. Not just to God and Jesus, but to the Universe-at-large. I have prayed that we would find the last member (or members) of our family, somewhere, somehow.
When after three-and-a-half years of trying on our own under the care of my regular ob-gyn we were still not pregnant, I made an appointment with our fertility specialists. I had thought about seeking help from them sooner, but something always held me back. Admittedly for awhile it was a financial consideration, as our insurance wouldn't cover testing or treatment for infertility. But even when we came into new insurance that would cover testing and treatment (up to and including IUI but NOT in vitro), I hesitated to take that step. Maybe it was a matter of feeling ashamed that after achieving one pregnancy (Super Boy) easily and without assistance, we were now completely incapable of repeating our success; maybe it was a bit of resistance due to the sheer sterile mechanics of it all and not wanting to completely rely on medicine & science to make it happen at the expense of love and romance.
How silly of me, I know. For starters, while the love was always present, the romance was long gone! That went out the window after about Year #2 of trying to conceive without success. Beyond that point, it was like a critical monthly mission planned with military precision more than any kind of stolen romantic moments. I had laser-like focus on my window of fertile opportunity, and Super Man just jumped when I said jump. Or, well, you know.
Very hot, yes?
With the first IUI, we sort of knew what to expect, having talked it through with the doctors, but we both felt a little weird about the whole thing, given that we wouldn't even be in the same room when the insemination actually happened. Super Man would go in to the fertility clinic early in the morning, do his thing in a specimen cup, and drive his usual hour commute to work. Two hours later, I'd show up at the fertility doctors' office, strip from the waist down and the doctor and his med student assistant would attempt to impregnate me, with Super Man's swimmers.
Tres romantique, eh?
The only thing that remained spiritual about our new, more scientific attempts to conceive was the praying. As I'd lay on the table for the required 8 minutes after each IUI, I would pray the entire time that our prayers would finally be answered and I'd get pregnant with another baby. I'd cry, too - I'm a hyper-emotional person on my best days, and trust me, the fertility medications only "enhanced" that aspect of my personality. Think PMS ALL THE TIME. Between the praying and the crying and the enormous hope bursting forth from my chest, I felt convinced each time that we would MAKE this happen, by sheer force of will and want.
And yet, I was let down time and again.
And then something happened.
I met a wonderful woman through the new church we joined at the same time we began seeing the fertility specialists. This woman happens to be a nun. And I felt an instant spiritual connection to her.
I can't explain it, and believe me, I've tried to understand it. All I can say is that she reminds me very much of one of my grandmothers, the one I lost too soon, when I was only 10. That grandmother is the only member of my family that I closely resemble, and I always felt I had a special relationship with her, as a child. To see Sister A. and see so much of my grandmother in her was astonishing.
But the connection I felt to her went beyond that; it was like I knew we had been brought together on purpose, at that time, for a reason. I knew she was there to help me as I continued on - and will eventually finish - my journey to try to have another child. What I am meant to be to her, I don't know - but I suspect she does.
I felt compelled to tell her about our struggle, and to ask her for her help in the form of prayer. It was so weird, how strong the urge was, because I usually get to know people a little bit before I bare that part of my life to them. But I shared our situation with Sister A. and asked for her help. She didn't judge me, she didn't make me feel bad or guilty for pursuing fertility treatment; she just told me sincerely and with great kindness and respect that she would be praying for us, and would ask her sisters from her Mother House in Ohio to pray for us, as well.
Over the following months, as we continued on our fertility treatment path, Sister A. would periodically approach me or email me to see how things were going, and to assure me that she was still praying for us constantly. She would send me special prayers in the mail and via email, and include us on the weekly prayer list (without naming us, per my request).
I found out earlier this year that she was leaving our parish and taking on a new ministry in Kentucky, working with the poor in the mountain communities. I was devastated to learn that she was leaving, considering I'd just found her a few months prior, but I knew in my heart she had to answer her call. It was embarrassing how strongly I was reacting to her news, with tears and true sadness to lose her. She assured me she'd stay in touch, and wasn't leaving until summer besides, and she put me at ease. Still, when the end of the religious education classes came around in early April and the going away celebration was had for Sister A., I couldn't stop crying. I was truly heartbroken to know she'd be gone soon.
When I found out that IUI #3 worked at the very end of April, Sister A. emailed me the day after to see if I had any news, almost as though she KNEW I did. I shared the happy, long-awaited news with her and she was thrilled for us. Her sisters back in Ohio emailed us their congratulations as well, and I was so incredibly touched. Over the next two weeks, Sister A. sent me adorable baby-themed notecards so I could continue to write her and update her on the pregnancy after she left for Kentucky, which I was so touched by.
Unfortunately, I lost that pregnancy just a few weeks after it began. I immediately wrote Sister A. to tell her the devastating news. I told her that I was heart-broken, numb, struggling with turning to God for comfort, after He had given me the gift I'd waited so long for only to take it away. She told me how sorry she was, but encouraged me to keep faith, not to give up, to trust that there was a reason. I resisted embracing that thought, but it turns out, she was right.
When I tried to get pregnant with Super Boy, it took us three attempts. I was terribly sad when the first two failed, but after I got pregnant with Super Boy and delivered him - my beautiful, healthy, wonderful little boy - it occurred to me that if I had gotten pregnant on either of the other two attempts, I wouldn't have HIM -- I'd have a different child. And how could I wish for that when the child I ended up having was so perfectly wonderful and lovely and everything I could have ever dreamed of and hoped for and more?
I believe now that the pregnancy in April happened to make me realize that I was right to keep trying, even though everyone around me seemed to be losing faith that I'd ever get pregnant again. That all-too-brief pregnancy happened to keep me from giving up. And I believe that I lost that pregnancy because the child we're meant to have is still coming to us. I firmly believe - and always have - that there IS another child in the Universe destined for us. When it happens, it will happen because THAT is the child we're supposed to add to our family.
Sister A. was right to encourage me to keep faith in God, to trust that He has His reasons. I see that, and I believe that.
Sister A. emailed me right before our fourth IUI attempt from late August, to let me know that she continues to pray for us, always, and that I'd been in her thoughts. I think that was a very good sign.
And I still believe.
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