It’s 5:00 a.m. and you’re up for the fourth time since midnight. I’m so exhausted that I can barely think straight but I’m relishing these moments.
You see, just a year ago you were a mere wish, a nightly prayer, a dream I had all but given up on. Three years of infertility struggles on top of multiple surgeries and dealing with PCOS & endometriosis will do that to someone.
Our journey to you began three and a half years ago. Your older brother was almost two and we thought it was a good time to add to our family. I’d been told from a young age that I would need to have children early because it was going to be a struggle the older I got. It took us almost a year to get pregnant with your brother, so I knew this time around wasn’t going to be any easier – and boy, was I right!
After induced menopause, a 50lb weight gain, a laparoscopy, multiple blood draws, ultrasounds, and almost any other test you could think of, we were referred to a fertility doctor, where the testing started all over again. Once we met with her, we knew fertility treatments were our best option. After our first three treatments failed, I needed a break. The toll it was taking on my body, and more so, mentally and emotionally, was too much.
Five months after the third treatment, we were ready to try again. I’ll admit I went into it this time half-hearted. I had no expectations of it working. The day I went in for my beta draw, I was already asking what our next step was going to be after this one failed. There was just no way I would allow myself to believe it worked. Too many negative tests month after month set that mind frame up for me.
Imagine my complete shock a couple hours later when I got the phone call telling me the test was positive! I was speechless {which is hard for me to accomplish} and full of emotion. We had to test my betas multiple times because the numbers weren’t doubling like they were supposed to, yet another obstacle to overcome because we didn’t know what was going to happen. The numbers finally jumped and we scheduled our first ultrasound.
When I saw that little blip on the screen, my heart nearly exploded.
I’d be lying if I said my pregnancy was smooth. I felt sick the entire nine months and towards the end, I was diagnosed with preeclampsia. The doctor’s office and the hospital became my second home for the last five weeks of my pregnancy.
Then, the day came when we could finally meet you! We didn’t know if you were a boy or girl but I had a strong feeling you were a boy. Sure enough, your Dad looked over the curtain where the doctor was holding you up and he said, “We have another son!” The moment they placed you on my chest, I felt so much relief. My baby was here and healthy; it’s all I wanted. And when your big brother held you for the first time, everything in my world felt right. I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Fast forward to now, eight weeks later and I find myself reliving all of the emotions from the first weeks of pregnancy to your birth and beyond. I feel like I can count the hours of sleep I’ve had since you were born on both hands, yet night after night, I just hold you and stare at your perfect face.
So, on these nights when you’ve been up more times than I can count, the days when you cry for hours and I can’t figure out what’s wrong, or the moments when you stare so deeply into my eyes that I can see I’m your whole world, I take a deep breath and simply thank God.
The journey to you wasn’t easy. But I would do it over and over again because the outcome was you, my sweet 7lb, 19.5in miracle IUI baby boy. God must’ve known I needed you.
