On a beautiful fall day, October 2007, my dreams shattered. We were in an old Victorian house, seated in a chic feminine office across from our new Dr. A Dr. we thought was going to wave her magic wand and make us a family. A Dr. who we believed would finally tell us why we weren't having success getting pregnant, and it would be a small fix... We were right and wrong. As she looked into my eyes, and took a breath to start to tell us what she had uncovered, I knew... I looked away. I grabbed JD's hand. I looked at the floor. I braced myself. I held my breath and looked at JD. As the words came out of her mouth, I watched him shatter. I watched his dreams die. I felt mine start to vanish. As my throat closed up and the tears slowly started to roll down my cheeks, my Dr. apologizes, and JD and I just stare into each others eyes. The rest of the visit is a blur... All I can remember and very clearly is "you have a less than 1% chance of ever having a genetic child, you are in ovarian failure".
I cried. I cried for the children I dreamed of us having. Little blonde, big blue eyed, athletes. I cried as the only baby head I would smell were my nephews and nieces. I cried because I believed I did this to myself. My self destructive behaviour caught up to me and God is now punishing me for my decisions. I cried for JD. Knowing I was solely responsible for crushing him. Wishing he would leave me and find a woman that worked.
But...Because I am a Taurus I am a determined little thing. I researched. I found a support group. I did my leg work. I persevered. We tried protocols I found and brought to my RE. I found an acupuncturist, I went organic, I drank wheat grass like it was Dt. Coke, and when I turned 30 and was struck with more failure. I started the DE journey. It took a bit of convincing to get JD on board. But he saw that I was struggling to hold on. The depression of the constant failure was becoming too much for me. Every month there was u/s' and blood work, every 21 days I prayed for better results, and they just got worse and worse. Every 21 days I would relive that moment in that chic little office. "Less than 1%" And when my FSH went to 72 and my AMH was 9 (Can). The chances were now 0.
We started the DE journey with renewed dreams. We started dreaming big! A small miracle would join us in a year, we just knew it. Maybe even 2. We started thinking of names, and nurseries. We bought keepsakes on our journey. Something to keep and show our little one, one day. I started to believe it could happen. And then it failed. Two times. And we were once again shoved back into a nightmare.
With nothing to dream of, I felt like there was nothing to live for. I was angry and depressed. On top of that we were now broke. I'm going to be very honest here. The thoughts I was having were very dark. The only thing that kept me in this life was knowing I couldn't hurt JD. I couldn't leave him like that. I don't know how we did it but we found our way back, and found our way to Washington. Thanks to my warrior friends, who wouldn't let me give up, who told me it wouldn't hurt to see what they would say.
We made that call. We had no idea what it would lead to. Again I researched. I searched for reasons for failures. I found that last missing piece that was holding us back. June 2010 I had surgery to remove my tubes, again crushing any small dream I ever had of a miracle baby, however I was now giving any embryo we transferred a fighting chance....
to be continued...