A very close friend of mine recently shared her post-pregnancy experience with post-partum depression. Thanks to her courage, I am now telling my story in the hopes that by reading this I will help at least one woman in her child-bearing years.
In truth, I have “carried” five children, and have been pregnant four times. Two of my babies are in God’s loving arms while the other three are here with their daddy and me.
In 2002, I learned I was expecting my first child in January 2003. Despite a minor setback, everything proceeded as it “should have” during the pregnancy, and for the most part, all was fine.
My husband and I knew we wanted more children one day, but we also knew we wanted to wait a couple years before trying to conceive.
In 2006, we began “trying” once again – I say “trying” because that is what it felt like month after month. It took nearly six months before we learned I was pregnant.
We were thrilled. We told our parents in special ways that they would be grandparents once again.
But then, something went wrong.
All of a sudden, I just didn’t “feel” pregnant anymore. It was as if my body gave up. An ultrasound confirmed I had miscarried around the eighth week of pregnancy. I underwent a D & C, but it took nearly seven months before the pregnancy hormone finally left my body. Translated – I could not get pregnant until it was completely gone. This required weekly blood tests. I started to resemble a pin cushion. It wasn’t fun.
Finally, the hormone was gone and I got pregnant immediately for the third time.
Knowing that I had a miscarried before, my OB sent me to the lab to undergo blood work to make sure the pregnancy hormones were strong enough throughout my body. Translated – my body was responding well to the pregnancy.
I miscarried again.
None of the doctors could tell me WHY I was miscarrying, only that I was miscarrying.
Talk about feeling hopeless.
Finally, we met with a specialist who explained that either I was producing “bad eggs” or that my body wasn’t producing enough progesterone to keep an embryo alive.
After much discussion, Seth and I agreed that I would take one round of Clomid – a fertility drug. I took it at the lowest dose … 25 mg. We knew there was a slight possibility that I would conceive twins, we just didn’t believe it could actually happen. We agreed that I would only take Clomid FOR ONE ROUND. After that, if it didn’t work, we knew it was God’s plan that we’d only have Ethan, and we were at peace with our decision. On top of being put on Clomid, I was also given a prescription for progesterone. I won’t go into detail about how THAT was administered, or HOW much it COST. I took progesterone twice daily for the first trimester.
At the 7 week ultrasound (yes, seven weeks – due to my history, they wanted to see everything from the get-go), the ultrasound tech saw two sacs. We were told to not keep our hopes up and that many twin pregnancies experience a “dissolving twin.” We didn’t care what the doctors told us. That day, we called everyone we knew to tell them I was pregnant with twins. We had spent the past nearly two years telling our parents and friends “bad” news that we just KNEW this was meant to be for our family.
In July 2008, we welcomed Katherine Louise and Derek Joseph into our family.
When people ask me if we conceived them naturally, I tell them “Yes” because in my mind, it was meant to be and THEY WERE conceived in LOVE from not only my husband and I, but through God’s plan as well.