Infertility is such a heart-wrenching issue.
It’s something I’ve been both praised and admonished for talking about here on my blog.
Some tell me that I’m brave to share our story– that it must be helping others. Yet I’ve also been told that infertility is such a personal issue that I should keep it to myself; that it doesn’t do anyone any good to put it out on the world wide web.
But I’ll tell ya what– When I was at my lowest of lows, it was this very same world wide web and the stories of hope, prayer, conviction, and love that I found here that helped me to regain focus and develop a positive outlook on what we faced.
I never imagined we’d face it more than once.
If you haven’t read any of my posts on infertility, here’s the 4-1-1. Getting pregnant with our first child = piece of cake. Getting pregnant with our second child = difficult, gutting, shocking, and seemingly impossible. I was diagnosed with “unexplained secondary infertility.” After 15 months of trying, 4 rounds of fertility drugs, ultrasounds, trips to the doc and lots and lots and lots of prayer, I finally got pregnant and gave birth to our second son in 2009.
We’ve always wanted 3 children. Both my husband and I come from families of 5, and since we both have 2 siblings each, it was just kind of an automatic– we want three kids.
There was a time when we accepted we’d have one. Then we were able to get two. We thought we’d try for our ideal three.
But our ideal is not always God’s— a lesson I should have learned years ago– one I have been trying to learn.
After our second son was born, I was what I would call “regularly irregular.” My body wasn’t on a perfect 28 day cycle like many women, but I was able to pretty much predict my cycles most of the time.
This was a vast improvement to what my body was doing before my second child came along, so I was certain I must be ovulating. After all, my cycles were within the realm of normal.
I thought for sure that our days of infertility were behind us. I thought for sure it would be a piece of cake to get pregnant a third time, just like it was the first time. I thought.
2 months. 4 months. 6 months. Nothing.
I finally bit the bullet and went to the doctor.
“You’re not ovulating regularly.”
What is it about those words that’s so devastating?
I’d been through this already. I had faced and slayed this giant. Yet here he was again, and although I should have been brave, ready, and spiritually strong, I fell apart. Again.
All those lessons I thought I had learned with our first go round of infertility– they all went out the window.
I thought that God had been teaching me about control. I thought that he had been teaching me about trust and peace and living in his will.
I thought I had learned. I thought that there’d be no reason for me to learn those lessons again.
But He saw differently.
My doctor put me straight back on Clomid at the max dose.
I was heartbroken. The drugs aren’t covered by our insurance and neither are any of the other treatments, ie., the ultrasounds, shots, etc.
Doc said he wanted to do 1 month on the Clomid without doing the ultrasounds, shots, etc, in order to save us some money. I was appreciative of this, but nervous. Without those ultrasounds, how would I know if the Clomid was working?
I allowed myself moments of crying and being angry that God was putting me through this again. And then I thought about what I had written on this blog about the lessons I had “supposedly” learned the first time.
How could I write those things if I wasn’t willing to believe it this time– and with every trial in life?
I went straight back to praying the prayer of Hannah from 1 Samuel. I prayed and prayed and prayed.
I sent my husband to the drug store to pick up my prescription for the fertility drugs.
The lady behind the counter looked at him, looked at the prescription and said, “You know this isn’t covered by insurance, right?”
“Yes,” he said. “We know.”
“But I guess you need it, huh?” She smiled.
He shrugged. “We do, I’m afraid.”
“Well then…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her employee card and scanned it, giving us her discount. “Let me help.”
We paid 1/4 of the actual price of the drugs.
When my husband got home and told me this story, I sobbed. I wanted to run all the way to the pharmacy, throw my arms around that woman and offer to bake her cookies, build her a house, buy her a new car– anything I could do to show her how grateful I was. I still haven’t been able to thank her — we haven’t seen her at the pharmacy again.
Someday I will pay it forward and do something so miraculous for someone else.
Because, you see, the drugs worked. This one round, without the ultrasound, without other shots, without anything else– the drugs worked the first time.
I still can’t wrap my mind around it.
Until the morning sickness kicks in and then I’m reminded– this is a miracle.
We are abundantly grateful for this blessing and have no one to thank but our Lord and Savior. And the pharmacy lady who saved us a ton.
We are so grateful.
And we would very much appreciate your prayers for a healthy pregnancy.
Share with me: How were you able to pay forward a blessing you once received? Have you ever done something that “blesses” a stranger?
Hale and Hearty Words 