We’re Pregnant*

There was no pomp and circumstance.  Years of playing out this moment in my mind and when it actually arrived it was nothing as I pictured or expected, but then again, not much during those three and half years turned out the way we thought it would.

Thursday, March 16th 2017 I got the call.  I bit the bullet and listened to the message at work; it was confirmed, my bloodwork showed I was pregnant.  On my end, there was a sense of disbelief – for three and a half years, month after month, the grieving process on repeat, but now, finally, we had a shot at having a family.  Something I did not consider was the automatic cloud of uncertainty that would find itself over the pregnancy.  I expected us to rejoice, hold each other, cry from happiness, but instead, it was subdued.  We were happy – but I think we were hesitant to embrace the joy we wanted to feel – at least in the early days. I did not consider the transition of ‘infertility patients’ to ‘parents-to-be’.  I did not consider others and ourselves, restraining the excitement “just in case”.  It is odd to say the least, especially when I myself did not feel that way initially. 

For some reason, because we struggled with infertility for so long, it seemed there was already a mark on our pregnancy.  As we told our parents or talked about the positive test with each other, it was always followed by an “asterisk”. It was as if we felt the need to add in “if it works”, “if it all goes smoothly”, just a sea of “ifs” tacked on to what should be the most exciting news of our lives.  It then dawned on me that like our process of trying to start a family being different than other non-infertile couples, our pregnancy will be different too. 

After years of struggling, our time, my time to be a mom, had finally come and I was scared – scared until I heard my daughter cry during delivery. I guess not once in all my time searching online and reading about infertility, did I ever search for ‘pregnancy post-infertility’. Looking back now, I suppose I thought some weight would be lifted, that all the pain and sorrow that came with not being able to conceive would magically go away – but it didn’t.

I was anxious before every ultrasound – I was nervous nearly every time I used the restroom (particularly in the beginning) and when I started spotting over Mother’s Day Weekend and again in September (three months before my due date) I filled with dread and just continued to pray for my baby. Overall my pregnancy was easy, I felt great physically, I stayed positive, and bounced back relatively quickly. Funny enough, after the first few weeks (once my progesterone shots finished) I felt less tired than I had in a long time. It was then I realized the toll the hormone therapy and infertility process had taken on my body.

The moment you are diagnosed as the infertility patient your path to parenthood takes a drastic turn.  It is at this juncture where everything you will experience and feel is different from other couples.  It’s a struggle that no one, unless they have been on this path before, will ever understand. We are childless and not by choice.  We are the parents who get neglected and often times forgotten about, we are the ones who struggle in silence and are not expected to grieve for something we never had.  But we are warriors.  We fight so hard for something that is not guaranteed and sacrifice for someone we have yet to hold.