The story of us - in the beginning

How can you really connect with someone if you don’t know their story, where they are coming from? Here is our story. How our family came to be in the place that we are today. I have said many times that I am not the person I was 10 years ago. I am changed. I have been blessed and cursed. My life has not always gone as I had planned or wanted, but how can I wish the past away without it taking away what I have and what I am now. Anyway, here is my attempt at letting you in on our story of pregnancy, loss, our road through gestational surrogacy, and our finally found happiness.

My goodness, where to begin…

I have always known. Always known that I would be a Momma one day. I am the oldest child and oldest grandchild on both of my parents’ sides. That’s the oldest of 29 grandchildren total. I was the one left in charge, I was the one left to look out for the others. I was forever around little kids, babysitting, working in day cares, becoming a nanny, etc. My degree has an early childhood focus; my jobs have had that focus too. So, it was a given. Everyone knew I would be the one having a flock of children.

I met my best friend and who I truly believe I am forever intended to be with in December of 1998. Tom and I just clicked, it was comfortable and right from the beginning. I was totally in love. He was it for me. Tom moved to Frostburg, Maryland to begin working on his master’s degree and I was miserable without him. So, after I promised my Mom that I would not buy property or get pregnant while I was there, I moved there too. Tom proposed December of 1999 and obviously I said yes. We were married back here in Michigan on July 8, 2000. It was beautiful, we were so happy, and in hindsight, we were so blissfully unaware of what challenges may lay ahead. It was a great time.

Tom finished his degree and we moved back to Michigan in April 2001. Babies had been our plan just as soon as we were back in MI. I had stopped the pill in January and begun the prenatal vitamins in preparation. So I was more than ready to get that plan moving. We were both just newly at our jobs and decided to give it a little time before we started trying. Our first positive pregnancy test came in August that year. To say we were excited is really an understatement. We were on top of the world! We told everyone right away and we basked in the glow of it all!

Tom’s Mom had been battling cancer for some time and this summer had been her worst time of all. In late August we got the call that she was in very bad shape and hospice had been called in. Tom and I rushed to see her and it was clear that she was not going to make it through the night. She passed that night and the loss was profound. Tom was devastated and I did my best to be there for him. We felt glad that she knew we were pregnant, that she had some happy news so near the end. Little did we know that only a short time later even more bad news would come.

I began spotting and then bleeding at about 7-8 weeks along. Tests confirmed that I was indeed miscarrying. It was a terrible nightmare. I was told to go home and let it happen naturally. Naturally? Are you kidding? There was nothing about this that felt natural. I had to keep going in for blood tests so that they could watch my HCG (pregnancy hormone) levels come down. That was torture in and of itself.

“Oh, excuse me what are you here for? Why do you need your blood drawn again?” Every time, I had to explain.

The doctor said we could try again as soon as we wanted, it was an early loss and nothing suggested that there were problems. And besides, you have to have 3 miscarriages to get any real testing done anyway. Go home – procreate.

We handled it the best we could. I cried, Tom was upset and supportive. Then we got right back on the baby making wagon after a couple of months. My want for a child had only increased, but I will say that my blinders were off. No longer was I the blissful, oblivious woman I had been. I was jaded. I had been badly hurt and I was going to be more careful and aware this time around.

When we found out we were pregnant again, we told NO ONE. Not a soul. We could tell after the 1^st trimester was done and everything was okay. At 10 weeks, I could hold it no longer and told my friend, Amy. She was happy and excited for us. I started to feel good. Not long after that, the spotting began. Now we were going to our real OB/GYN (not the family doc from before) and when they saw us they reassured us that these things happen and often the pregnancy is fine. The “let’s just take a look” ultrasound would prove that to be wrong. The baby had stopped growing at 6 weeks. And because my body had not begun the process of taking care of the miscarriage on its own, I would need a D+C.

So began the process of telling people. It was surgery, I had to tell people. I remember distinctly my Mom’s reaction. Of course she was upset about the baby, but she told me that she wished she would have known from the beginning. She said that she wanted to enjoy the happiness from the start even if something happened, it was too hard to only get to hear the bad news. From then on, my Mom would always be told, I would never leave her out again.

Recovery this time was a bit harder. I dreamed about the little spirit that we had lost, I dreamed about what he or she would have been like. I longed for the feeling of morning sickness again. My emotions were raw and I was scared this was never going to happen for us. The thought of not having children was not even fathomable for me, just beyond my realm of thinking. It just had to happen.

In May of 2002, we bought our house and just before we closed we found out we were pregnant again, so many new beginnings. Which room would be the baby’s? Again, our hopes were dashed by what seemed to be the inevitable spotting, and then bleeding that would come.

Three, now we had had three. Three is the magic number. The number that all the docs look at as signifying “oh, now there could be a problem”. In some ways I get why they wait to see if you have recurrent miscarriages. I have read the statistics about how many women miscarry, some not even knowing that they had been pregnant at all (so how do they count these women who didn’t even know, huh?), then go on to normal healthy pregnancies. So, yes, logically I get it. It would be really expensive to do testing on every woman who has 1 miscarriage. BUT, logic hardly plays a part when you are the one having the miscarriage/ miscarriages.

I was broken, emotionally and physically. I wanted the physical part to be fixed. I knew that my heart would never be the same, no one could give our babies back to me, but I at least wanted my body to do what it was supposed to do. There were a lot of tests trying to find something to fix. A LOT. By the end of October of that year, we had the answer.

“Unexplained Recurrent Miscarriages” – nothing definitively wrong with me.

“You can try again. Take a baby aspirin everyday and some progesterone lozenges and we’ll see what happens.” Not long after, that’s what we did.

Coming Next: Our life and times with Joshua