I’ll never forget when we, as a married couple of five years at the time, decided, okay we’re ready. We’re ready to start a family. It wasn’t an easy decision. At 29, we still weren’t ready to “grow up”. But we weren’t getting any younger. And ultimately, we did want children.
What I didn’t know, was how very hard and emotionally gut-wrenching the following two years would be. Infertility, or just the sheer inability to get pregnant, no matter how hard you want it, and no matter how hard you try. And everyone’s experience is different and painful. Here’s mine.
Baby making time
So here we go…let’s do this. Let’s have a baby. Six months go by. A year. Another 6 months. We tried EVERYTHING. I used a basal thermometer. Watched my menstrual calendar like a hawk. I became Maude from The Big Lebowski after she and The Dude had sex. Rolling around on my back with my legs up near my head thinking, sure, this will somehow help. And no, I’m not kidding. I actually did that. Many many times.
And still no baby.
My husband had his sperm checked out. It was normal. He was fine. It was me.
Meanwhile, all of my friends were getting pregnant without trying hard or not trying at all. You know, the women whose husband or partner breathes on them as they walk by, and poof they’re pregnant. I was SO quietly resentful. My husband was told of new pregnancies in confidence… “don’t tell Heather, she’ll be upset.” And they were right. I’d just cry every time I heard of someone else having a baby.
I hadn’t wanted to try an intervention with medicine. I’ve always been more of a naturalist. I had this mantra, it will happen if it’s meant to. I finally bit the bullet and started the process to “get medical help” after 22 months of trying unsuccessfully.
The first procedure was a hysterosalpingogram, or HSG, a test that diagnoses blocked fallopian tubes. Basically, a blue dye is injected into your uterus and if the fallopian tubes are open, dye fills the tubes, they take x-rays and see what’s going on. And they didn’t see anything unusual. Sometimes this procedure “flushes” the fallopian tubes (I wasn’t aware of that at the time). Next step was deciding what my clinical plan would be to get me pregnant.
No joke, I got pregnant a week later. The likely prognosis: a blocked fallopian tube due to abnormal tissue growth from a past procedure. Bingo!! This simple diagnostic test made me a mother for the first time. It was too easy. 22 months of emotional heartache could’ve possibly been avoided. But, c’est la vie! I’m having a baby!
I’ll never forget the moment I found out I was pregnant. Me running into the bedroom jumping up and down on the bed like a maniac, screaming my head off, where my husband WAS sleeping. With maybe a “’lil bit of luck of the Irish, on St. Patty’s Day 2009, after a very traumatic delivery, I gave birth to a very healthy baby boy, named Zane.