My Infertility Climb

The journey of motherhood can start years or decades before a child enters the timeline

The First Step

The soulful purpose and connecting spirit of becoming a mom doesn’t rely on passing on the same bloodline or biological genes.

My first time babysitting, I was 11 years old. I assumed so many little girls dreamed of becoming a mom, but it wasn’t in my dreams. I saved those for becoming a figure skater, journalist, doctor, private investigator, astronaut, or writer. Imaginative plans I think of fondly, laugh about the odd variety and carry a sense of pride in believing passionately any one of them was possible.

Being a mom was a feeling instead that God planted inside me. I didn’t need to cultivate it because it was already rooted deep within me.

Since those days in grade school, I never stopped caring for children, whether at work, home, or play.

The Big Step

Hearing “Mom” from a little voice showed me those planted roots broke ground and started to flourish.

Shortly after I began dating his father, I met this little three-year-old vibrant, joyful, creative boy. Our lives sporadically intersected as I had worked with his father since I was 16, but an invitation into a family I cherished with respect, honor, and privilege.

This little boy changed how I saw the world and deeply influenced the mother I am today.

Every opportunity to be in a child’s life is an immense blessing. I invite those explosive glimpses of genuine love to unfold into my life as long as I have breath in my lungs and a beat in my heart.

Fast-forward, this amazing boy blessed my life by becoming my stepson. He has always called me by my first name, but I remember when he was eight years old, watching him play with some of our apartment neighborhood kids and hearing him say, “Let me ask my mom…”.

I took a mental picture of the smile that gushed over me. I will always remember that feeling from already knowing he was my son to hear it in action. My body missed nothing by not birthing him; my heart has experienced it all, as his mom, too.

When the Steps Keep Going

For any woman who does long to give birth, whether starting your family, adding to it, or choosing to be a solo parent, you are made with a heart strong enough to climb the highest peaks.

After I was married, I wasn’t mentally prepared for more medical setbacks in my life. Going on two years, daily temperature checks, cycle tracking (mine usually non-existent without medical intervention), and no pregnancy, we were referred to the Nashville Fertility Clinic.

All the reasons my body broke consumed my mind instead of being overjoyed to get more help finally. My decades of struggling with an eating disorder must have stripped away a lot of hope for success, and at that time, I was still periodically seeing counselors and attending ED support groups to “fix” me.

Prior to fertility appointments, we’d made some jokes along Sci-fi lines and the possibility of cloning to break the tension before meeting the doctor.

Hearing the words that this could be a long, financially and emotionally draining journey (insurance covers almost nothing or didn’t in 2000) or an uphill climb didn’t drown out the positive affirmations and atmosphere of hope from the doctors and nurses.

I put a lot of blame on myself for our family not growing. My husband was already able to have a child, so the problem had to be me; I couldn’t stop thinking.

One Step At a Time

This process felt like being on-call every day while still going into the doctor’s office every two days and depending on what my lab tests said, the number of medication vials we needed delivered the following day at 10 am (I had to be home to sign for and refrigerate) and continued ultrasounds measuring the size/diameter and number of follicles. At the same time, we are praying no cysts have formed.

I honestly started feeling robotic about it just being moved around from the waiting room, lab chair, blood drawn, gown on with feet up (transvaginal ultrasound, I know too much information. It wasn’t so fun for me, either), back in my car heading home to wait for the nurse to call with my next instructions or changes.

The timing was everything because within a specified number of hours after all the measurements are viable; I would need to get an hCG trigger shot followed by 32–36 hours later the scheduled IUI (Intrauterine Insemination). Thankfully, the male partner (father) would have driven his deposit to the clinic in a specimen container and hidden it in a brown lunch bag. Making it available that morning to go through its medical car wash; thanks for playing.

Even though, in my case, I went through most of the physical tests and treatments, I completely acknowledge the emotional stress, financial drain, and shift in the family focus that many husbands, I honestly believe, go through, as well.

Nothing fancy or romantic, it was lab coats, Petri dishes, test tubes, and injections, but the prayer that streamed non-stop in my head straight to God was powerful.

I pulled a lot of strength from my faith even when the cycles didn’t work, and we had to start all over again. Often, but not always, going to mundane appointments alone because taking off work for both of us every other day can be stressful at home anyway and not needed at work.

Standing At the Top

We were blessed to experience the miracle of birth three times through those same fertility treatments with a little tweaking, plus one miscarriage early in the pregnancy. That loss blessed me, too, with gratitude for love and life, feeling something so powerful for someone I’d never met.

Even making phone calls to our parents once I was pregnant, we were preparing them with the doctor’s words not to be surprised based on blood work numbers that it could be twins or triplets. The thought was terrifying and exciting, and I was ready to accept whoever became our family.

With all that to say, each child was a solo act and burst into our world with individual and unique personalities. They joined their big brother in an extraordinary family journey for us all.

Even going through being high risk for various reasons, bed rest, and numerous extended hospital stays, I would follow the same path to grow the family we have in these amazing children.

Looking At the Path

Infertility revealed so many choices for becoming a mother. I value every option just as much. Fostering, adopting, and even volunteering to mentor allows you to share and be a blessing in each other’s lives.

Thank you for taking a mental walk with me back up the stairs, one breath, one step, and one child at a time.

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