I have written the basics of this story down at the beginning of this blog, but for some reason it has been on my heart a lot lately. I keep getting the feeling that I need to explain more about our journey through infertility, conceiving Waylon, and God's promises staring you in the face.
Every woman in my family has given birth to their first child at age 27. My mom, my aunt, my grandma. So, as I turned 26, I couldn't help but to feel that my time was soon, and Patrick and I would be parents. We had started that goofy, smiling at each other any time someone walked by with a baby or if we saw a pregnant woman. We'd poke each other and laugh and hug each other close, happy thoughts filling up our minds and hearts and souls.
We started trying in September of 2011. Patrick and I have always loved God, but at this point in our life, we definitely weren't as close as we were supposed to be. We prayed, separately, to have a baby. And we tried. In December of 2011, after we had returned from an anniversary trip to Philadelphia, I got my period, yet again. I only received mine every two months, though. The more research I did, the less I believed in God's plan, the more I worried and saw that women on that type of cycle most likely were not ovulating at all.
Being me, and wanting to control all situations, I booked a fertility appointment for both Patrick and myself. Patrick supported me completely. He always does. Even though he had his doubts about our need for a doctor.
In March of 2012, after a few tests, the doctor sat us down and gave me news that still tears straight into my heart. I was unable to carry a baby, and Patrick's sperm had low motility. My estrogen was too low, and my testosterone was too high. We asked if that could even itself out, and the doctor said that was highly unlikely. He also said that if I were to get pregnant on my own, I would need to start hormone therapy immediately or the baby would die.
His suggestion was IVF. That was it. Our only shot. Patrick and I had decided against this already. In our minds, if God wanted us to have our own baby, we would. And if He didn't, then we would adopt. When we declined IVF, saying we were going to look into adoption, the doctor basically ruined his credibility for me. Why would we want to adopt? You never know what kind of mess you would receive, what sort of damaged child. And if IVF fails, we get most of our money back. Our mouths were on the floor, and we walked out of his office, never looking back. Adoption is a beautiful thing, and we still plan on adopting in the future. Somewhere out there, we have a child waiting on us. And I can't wait until we bring him or her home.
Back to this story. We were done. More accurately, I was done. I cried the entire way home from Dr. V's office. And Patrick let me. There was nothing for him to say. I just needed to mourn. I'll never forget that pain, and I hurt for any woman who is given similar news that she will never feel her baby flip inside her. It is honestly devastating. I cried for the babies I couldn't give my husband. I cried over not seeing their little smiles. And I cried because I would not follow in the footsteps of my mom, aunt, and grandmother. A petty thing, but I would not be 27 at the birth of my first child.
It took about a week for me to pull myself back together. Patrick and I decided we would start raising money and look into adopting in mid-2013. I put my heart and soul into that idea, my prayers to God changed. I still asked if He would someday give us a baby of our own, but I thanked Him for allowing adoption to be an option. I would still be a mother.
At the beginning of April, I started seeing a homeopathic hormone specialist. Basically, she gave me vitamins and herbs to balance out my hormones, and I would see her once a month. The day before my second appointment, she gave me a call. I had to take a pregnancy test because she planned on doing a certain type of therapy the next day. And it wasn't approved for pregnant women. I almost laughed at her, but I told her I would take the test and bring in my negative result.
I waited until the morning of May 2nd. I wanted as long a gap as possible before peeing on that stick and letting my heart fall once again. From September of 2011 until March of 2012, I bought and used around 20 of those tests.
But this time... a plus sign! Time literally stopped. And I started praying. In earnest. I wanted this baby. Baby... I was pregnant! My mind went round and round, hardly even making sense. I was thanking God for this opportunity, and begging Him not to take it away at the same time.
I carried Waylon to term, in an unbelievable healthy pregnancy. I never needed hormone therapy from Dr. V to keep him alive inside me. I stopped taking the vitamins from my homeopathic specialist on May 2nd as well. God kept Waylon alive inside of me. In a labor that lasted less than 9 hours, Waylon came into this world.
THE DAY BEFORE MY 28TH BIRTHDAY.
Just let that sink in for a moment. Even right now, I'm crying over the beauty of God's plans. When Waylon was born, I was still 27. He was born the 9th. My birthday is the 10th. Something so unbelievably petty, God used that to show me that He is always listening to our prayers.
I welcome any questions about our conception, the pregnancy, his birth... our faith... anything and everything. There is a reason He wanted me to write this down, even if it's just for my own benefit.
It is amazing to me how closer we have gotten to God after Waylon's birth, and in getting closer to Him, how much closer Patrick and I have become. And there is only room to get closer.
Have you ever heard of Zeno's Paradox? Zeno stated that you can never reach a destination, because to get there you have to cross half the distance. And once you are there, there is another half distance to cross... and so on for eternity. It's like that with God. Even if you think you are the closest you can get, there is still room to get closer.
Always getting closer.
