A Brief History of Time
Paul and I met when we were 29 and 28. We married about 2 ½ years later, and didn't want to wait long to start a family. I'm glad we didn't. In spring of 1999 we began trying and got pregnant the 2nd month. "Of course," I thought, "that's exactly what I expected." I had a relatively uneventful pregnancy and delivered Trevor at full term in November 1999.
When Trevor was 18 months old, in the summer of 2001, we decided to start trying again. I was pregnant the first month we tried. "Exactly as I planned," I smugly thought. The sonogram at 7 weeks showed a 6-week embryo with a heartbeat. I was concerned, but my OB assured us the difference was minimal at this point and the fact that we'd seen a heartbeat meant our chances of miscarriage were small. We went in 4 weeks later and there was no heartbeat; the baby had died 1 ½ weeks earlier. Due to some minor complications following the miscarriage, we didn't start trying again until January 2002.
I was confident we would be pregnant within 2 or 3 months. The months crept by with no pregnancy. In July of 2002, I hit two auspicious milestones: I turned 35, and we hit the 6-month mark for trying to conceive. I mentioned it to my OB that same month, and she ran a few nominal tests and told me to try 6 more months before considering treatment. Those 6 months went by and we found ourselves in January 2003 with 1 year of unsuccessful trying behind us.
We sought out an RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist, i.e., infertility specialist) and began seeing him. Over the course of the next 2 years, we did a variety of tests, cycles, surgeries, and "breaks" as we continued trying. We were never given a definitive diagnosis. The best he could tell us was that my body was not performing at optimum fertility. In November of 2004, our 7th and final treatment cycle and final attempt to get pregnant after 3 ½ years of trying, I became pregnant. 9 days later, the pregnancy was declared over. I felt defeated, dejected, and devastated. We had spent 3 ½ years and thousands upon thousands of dollars, and I was pregnant for a week. We were through trying, and threw in the towel. No more.
By that point, we'd spent the last several months exploring adoption, realizing it may be how we grew our family. So when we quit trying to get pregnant, we were ready to move on, and had chosen our path, Chinese adoption. In February 2005 we began the process to adopt from China. We were told at the time to expect an 8 to 13 month process, but it unexpectedly stretched out to 21 months. It was arduous and at times heartbreaking, as month after month drew on with no baby, but finally, in September 2006, we traveled to China and adopted our then 9-month-old daughter, Camille. Paul and I were 40 and 39 years old, respectively, when we finally brought home our 2nd child.
I turned 40 in the summer of 2007. In September 2007, we celebrated our 1-year anniversary of adopting Camille. We were 40 and 41 years old by this point, had our boy and our girl, our 2 kids, and felt after 6 ½ years, we had finally moved on from the endless years of family-building and could look forward to our future with a measure of confidence that we knew what to expect. We had lived in limbo since that summer of 2001, but no more. Our family was complete. Infertility was a sad memory at that point.
The week of Thanksgiving 2007, our children turned 8 and 2 years old (birthdays 2 days apart!). The day after Thanksgiving, my sister and mom wanted to go shopping all day. I woke up feeling terribly nauseous, but braved it and shopped all day. I hardly had any appetite. I found myself with that same nauseous feeling the next several days in a row. The fifth day in a row of this, I considered the facts: I was sick to my stomach and had no appetitie for 5 straight days, with no obvious signs of a virus. I got the idea in my head that I *might* be pregnant, and I couldn't get it out, so I ran out on a Tuesday morning at 9:30 to get a test. I laugh now that I bought the test and a pack of gum, as if I were fooling the check-out person with that pack of gum. "Oh, I was in the mood for some gum, and while I'm here, oh what the heck I'll buy a pregnancy test too." Delirium was already setting in.
I came home, took the test, and laid it down on the bathroom floor and left the room. I couldn't bear to watch it while it changed (or didn't change). I counted out to 60 three times, probably too fast, and went back into the bathroom with great trepidation. I picked up the test. I saw nothing. No lines at all. "Swell," I thought, "I bought a dud test." Then I realized I was holding it upside-down. Doh. I turned it over, and there they were: TWO. LINES. No squinting required.
My hands were shaking so much I could barely dial the phone to call Paul. "I started wondering what was going on, so I went and bought a test, and there are TWO LINES!" I screamed to him. "What do two lines mean?" he asked. I said, "I think I am pregnant!" He was SO EXCITED. I was SO FREAKED OUT. He left work, bought me roses, and came home. He agreed that no squinting was required, and it appeared that at age 40, after 6 ½ years, we were pregnant on our own.
I called my OB's office and they said to come in the next Monday for a sonogram and we'd have a better chance of seeing something, since we weren't sure how far along I was. The days between Tuesday and Monday crept by at a snail's pace, but it finally arrived. The last time I'd lay on that bed and had the sonogram, it was to be told that our baby had died. Paul held my hand. I looked straight ahead in terror. After a few seconds, the sonogram technician, the same one who had announced our miscarriage to us in 2001, said, "There's the heartbeat." I cannot even explain the emotions that flooded over me at that point. I was 40 years old, infertile, and I was pregnant and going to have a baby. To say it was surreal doesn't do it justice.
I am 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant as of today. This pregnancy has been blessed - complication free, very healthy for me and for the baby. He will be born by next Thursday, July 17, if he does not decide to make an appearance before then. We hope he comes a few days earlier, when he's ready. We'll keep you updated.
When Trevor was 18 months old, in the summer of 2001, we decided to start trying again. I was pregnant the first month we tried. "Exactly as I planned," I smugly thought. The sonogram at 7 weeks showed a 6-week embryo with a heartbeat. I was concerned, but my OB assured us the difference was minimal at this point and the fact that we'd seen a heartbeat meant our chances of miscarriage were small. We went in 4 weeks later and there was no heartbeat; the baby had died 1 ½ weeks earlier. Due to some minor complications following the miscarriage, we didn't start trying again until January 2002.
I was confident we would be pregnant within 2 or 3 months. The months crept by with no pregnancy. In July of 2002, I hit two auspicious milestones: I turned 35, and we hit the 6-month mark for trying to conceive. I mentioned it to my OB that same month, and she ran a few nominal tests and told me to try 6 more months before considering treatment. Those 6 months went by and we found ourselves in January 2003 with 1 year of unsuccessful trying behind us.
We sought out an RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist, i.e., infertility specialist) and began seeing him. Over the course of the next 2 years, we did a variety of tests, cycles, surgeries, and "breaks" as we continued trying. We were never given a definitive diagnosis. The best he could tell us was that my body was not performing at optimum fertility. In November of 2004, our 7th and final treatment cycle and final attempt to get pregnant after 3 ½ years of trying, I became pregnant. 9 days later, the pregnancy was declared over. I felt defeated, dejected, and devastated. We had spent 3 ½ years and thousands upon thousands of dollars, and I was pregnant for a week. We were through trying, and threw in the towel. No more.
By that point, we'd spent the last several months exploring adoption, realizing it may be how we grew our family. So when we quit trying to get pregnant, we were ready to move on, and had chosen our path, Chinese adoption. In February 2005 we began the process to adopt from China. We were told at the time to expect an 8 to 13 month process, but it unexpectedly stretched out to 21 months. It was arduous and at times heartbreaking, as month after month drew on with no baby, but finally, in September 2006, we traveled to China and adopted our then 9-month-old daughter, Camille. Paul and I were 40 and 39 years old, respectively, when we finally brought home our 2nd child.
I turned 40 in the summer of 2007. In September 2007, we celebrated our 1-year anniversary of adopting Camille. We were 40 and 41 years old by this point, had our boy and our girl, our 2 kids, and felt after 6 ½ years, we had finally moved on from the endless years of family-building and could look forward to our future with a measure of confidence that we knew what to expect. We had lived in limbo since that summer of 2001, but no more. Our family was complete. Infertility was a sad memory at that point.
The week of Thanksgiving 2007, our children turned 8 and 2 years old (birthdays 2 days apart!). The day after Thanksgiving, my sister and mom wanted to go shopping all day. I woke up feeling terribly nauseous, but braved it and shopped all day. I hardly had any appetite. I found myself with that same nauseous feeling the next several days in a row. The fifth day in a row of this, I considered the facts: I was sick to my stomach and had no appetitie for 5 straight days, with no obvious signs of a virus. I got the idea in my head that I *might* be pregnant, and I couldn't get it out, so I ran out on a Tuesday morning at 9:30 to get a test. I laugh now that I bought the test and a pack of gum, as if I were fooling the check-out person with that pack of gum. "Oh, I was in the mood for some gum, and while I'm here, oh what the heck I'll buy a pregnancy test too." Delirium was already setting in.
I came home, took the test, and laid it down on the bathroom floor and left the room. I couldn't bear to watch it while it changed (or didn't change). I counted out to 60 three times, probably too fast, and went back into the bathroom with great trepidation. I picked up the test. I saw nothing. No lines at all. "Swell," I thought, "I bought a dud test." Then I realized I was holding it upside-down. Doh. I turned it over, and there they were: TWO. LINES. No squinting required.
My hands were shaking so much I could barely dial the phone to call Paul. "I started wondering what was going on, so I went and bought a test, and there are TWO LINES!" I screamed to him. "What do two lines mean?" he asked. I said, "I think I am pregnant!" He was SO EXCITED. I was SO FREAKED OUT. He left work, bought me roses, and came home. He agreed that no squinting was required, and it appeared that at age 40, after 6 ½ years, we were pregnant on our own.
I called my OB's office and they said to come in the next Monday for a sonogram and we'd have a better chance of seeing something, since we weren't sure how far along I was. The days between Tuesday and Monday crept by at a snail's pace, but it finally arrived. The last time I'd lay on that bed and had the sonogram, it was to be told that our baby had died. Paul held my hand. I looked straight ahead in terror. After a few seconds, the sonogram technician, the same one who had announced our miscarriage to us in 2001, said, "There's the heartbeat." I cannot even explain the emotions that flooded over me at that point. I was 40 years old, infertile, and I was pregnant and going to have a baby. To say it was surreal doesn't do it justice.
I am 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant as of today. This pregnancy has been blessed - complication free, very healthy for me and for the baby. He will be born by next Thursday, July 17, if he does not decide to make an appearance before then. We hope he comes a few days earlier, when he's ready. We'll keep you updated.
posted by More Paul, Less Andrea | 7:54 AM
1 Comments:
Even though you have shared all these moments with me as they happened, often right after you had shared them with Paul, it is so sweet to read them all together. All along, God had such a unique plan for building your family. I am so happy for you.
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