I left you guys hanging with my last post when I shared the tragic news that we had 2 more miscarriages, bringing the grand total up to 4.
Needless to say, it’s been a hard few years. Losing 4 babies is not something anyone should go through. Really, no one should ever even lose one. After losing our fourth baby in July, we were raw. Raw and broken. After every miscarriage we’ve had, we have had the need to take a break from actively trying to conceive. We needed time to heal, process, grieve. The same was true for baby #4. August came and went in a sort of haze.
So when September arrived, it hit us in the face with real life and a bunch of surprises. On September 3, David was laid off. Did NOT see that one coming. The investors decided to pull the plug on his project and let go of 40 people. (Praise the Lord, he was able to find another job in less than 2 months.)
Two days later, early morning of September 5, I decided to take yet another pregnancy test… because, you know, it’s what I do. I’m a pro at peeing on a stick. I could Olympic medal in stick peeing. Ick… that would be a gross competition to watch. But also because it had been roughly 5 weeks since our miscarriage and I hadn’t gotten my period yet. Not that that was unusual for my messed up body. Also because, we were set to leave on vacation 4 days later and I wanted to know for sure if I could safely drink on said vacation. 😉
I know. I know. I haven’t posted in 9 months. You guys have been incredibly kind and patient with me. This year has been kicking my butt. And a crap ton has happened. Like, A LOT. I’ve thought about blogging again for a long time, but it has just been too hard. If you remember, before my break I had been sharing about my personal life, and more specifically, about our journey with infertility. (If you want to check those out, this is part 1, part 2, and part 3, and part 4.) And I knew what the next post would be about following my last post about my tumor. And I didn’t want to write it. I didn’t. So I haven’t. For a long time. But now it is time. It is time to share. It is time to heal. It is time to rip off the bandaid and share about even more heartbreak.
Just a warning: this post is going to be fast and hard. There is a lot to share and I just don’t have it in me to linger on the details. So here we go.
Guys! Guys. I haven’t posted in 3 months. And I kinda hate myself for it. But I also hate that I don’t really mind either. I miss blogging, I really do. So why have I been so absent? Well… put simply… 2015 has been kicking my butt. Like hard. I think life has steel-toed boots on right now. I don’t really want to be a Debbie Downer but I’m going to get real. You’ll understand the title soon. Here comes part 4 of our infertility journey. You can check out part 1, part 2, and part 3 here.
So when our story left off, I had been diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, an autoimmune disease where my immune system attacks my thyroid when I eat gluten. So I went gluten free. I was hoping and praying to get pregnant. I was determined to find a new doctor, which was especially scary after miscarriage #2. And, in general, I was feeling loads better.
That brings us to October 2014. I had found a new OBGYN who specialized in infertility. I was going through a process of having many tests to get a better handle on the cause of our struggles to get pregnant. During one of my many, MANY tests I was diagnosed with PCOS, polycystic ovarian syndrome. Basically, because of my wack-a-doo hormones my ovaries become covered in cysts, thus not allowing me to ovulate regularly. THUS not being able to get pregnant. This combined with my chronically low progesterone were the root of our problem. But then we discovered another problem. During that ultrasound where I was diagnosed with PCOS the tech noticed a large mass on my right ovary. After talking to my doctor, we found that many times these masses resolve themselves so we decided to keep an eye on it for 6 weeks and then check it out again.
Well, the 6 weeks came and went and it was time to check in on my little cyst. Well, I guess it wasn’t so little. It was the size of a golfball. This second ultrasound found that the cyst wasn’t in fact a cyst. It was a tumor. A dermoid teratoma to be exact. A teratoma that had grown to the size of a lime. And the only way to get rid of it was surgery.
Before we get going with part 3 of our infertility story, I want to say thank you again. As difficult as it has been to write our story, you guys have been so incredibly encouraging. I truly can’t thank you enough. Keep the prayers coming, we definitely need them. Also, sorry this post was a week in the making. Our internet has been out and we finally got it resolved and switched providers so I don’t have to try to write these posts on my phone. 😉
Anywho, the way this whole infertility series came about was out of a desire to write this post. I wanted to tell you guys why recipes haven’t been shared as much on LPH recently as they had been in the past. To tell you why recipes I would be sharing from now on would be a different kind of recipe. So here we go. At this point in our journey with infertility, I finally started to get some answers and diagnoses. In part 1 and part 2 of our infertility story, I shared with you guys about our first and second miscarriages. Part 3, in short, will be about a diagnosis that lead me to become gluten-free and change my way of life.
Okay. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I hit that publish button, but I should have known how wonderful all of you amazing people would be. I cried as each and every one of your comments came in. I truly can’t thank you enough. But today, I need to ask for even more grace from you guys. Unfortunately, there are a few more “parts” to our infertility story. And things get worse before they get better.
I ended part 1 of our story of struggling with infertility by sharing about the loss of our “little bug” to an early miscarriage. Remembering and reliving that experience has been incredibly hard. Harder than I expected. Losing Little Bug was unbelievably painful. I didn’t know how life could continue on. But just like after losing my dad, somehow each and every day I woke up and life kept happening. I spent hours each and every day pleading, begging, mourning, crying before my big, all powerful, very real God. And eventually, and slowly, that mourning turned into back into living life. I can truly look back and say that the only way I made it through that horrible time was with the grace of God and the strength of my amazing husband.
You would think I was too traumatized to keep trying to conceive. But my desire for a child was only intensified. Six weeks after losing Little Bug we started actively trying to conceive again. But this time without the basal body temperatures, ovulation kits, and centering our lives around trying to conceive. God had shown me that those were my ways of trying to control the situation. Being the control freak that I am, I had to let go of this and give it to God. His timing is perfect. I will trust in His great plans for us. Even today.