By: Danielle Foulk
When pulling out of the parking lot that day from the doctors, dark clouds rolled in, the skies opened up, and it poured on my way home-how appropriate. I remember driving down the road and working up the nerve to call my mom. I could barely say the words “I can’t get pregnant” in my head let alone say them out loud to my mom. Why? Because this wasn’t supposed to be happening! I should have been calling to tell my mom I was pregnant, now I had lost the opportunity to ever surprise our family with the news of a baby being on the way.
After crying it out, I finally picked up the phone about half way through my drive and found a way to mutter I couldn’t get pregnant. It was that plain and simple. I wasn’t close to being in any upbeat positive mood to say what was even going to be our next step-I didn’t know what we were going to do. Could we afford an infertility doctor? Did we even want to go that route? And again the question of why in the world can’t I get pregnant?
It was that day; I began to describe myself as “broken.”
You know the way you feel after crying hard all day? You can’t find any more tears to shed, your eyes hurt and are swollen, your mind is left numb from having been over exhausted with thoughts, but you aren’t tired enough to just sleep it off. That was me the night after having been to the lousy doctor’s office.
I remember crawling into bed, turning off the light and just lying there. Lord knows I was exhausted, but the thoughts running in the background of my mind wouldn’t stop. Every time I closed my eyes all I could do was replay the visit to the doctor’s and that damn picture of why I couldn’t conceive. The darkness of the room became a theater for my worst dreams and I made a quick exit hoping to escape the upsetting scenes of what had unfortunately become my reality.
With my trusty pup, Addy, on my heels we went down to our morning room and just sat. I turned on some music with all of the lights on and just sat staring out into a very dark window. The feeling of brokenness grew inside of me and I pondered how I even became broken.
How did I go from normal monthly cycles before birth control to having none? Was it the birth control that had caused me from being able to conceive? Was it from other medication I had been on? How could medication change the way my hypothalamus was communicating to my ovaries? Was this really permanent? If not how long would I be this way? Could I reverse it? The clock is ticking! Will we miss our opportunity to conceive?
With all of those questions swirling for the hundredth time that day, I began to think about my husband. He didn’t sign up for this. He married me with hopes one day to have a family. The body I was in was broken and neither one of us could do anything about it. It was at that moment the repetitive record of disbelief and agony was interrupted by my husband. He consoled me, reassured me that no matter what happened he would always love me, and whether we had a baby or not, he would always be by my side. Finally, a new and meaningful conversation was written and playing in my mind. It was my first grasp at hope and I was holding on tight to it.
THE BEGINNING OF MANY FIRSTS
Waking up the next day, I began my first of many roller coaster rides. This one started off with a call to the fertility doctor. I don’t know about you, but when I receive bad news, I try and quickly repress it and move on. Now, I could only move on in some ways, but I was determined to shift my focus from being broken to being solved.
I remember stepping outside on our back porch steps and sitting down. The rain had passed and the sun was out. I was feeling optimistic and strong. I called the new doctor with hope in my heart and was greeted by a very friendly voice. I awkwardly explained my situation using foreign terminology jotted down on a piece of paper and asked if they could help. She scheduled me an appointment and the first of many “waiting” periods began.
While I would have to wait a week to get in, I choose to not let it turn in to dread. I used it as something to look forward to. Instead of sinking back into a dark place of sleepless nights, I began to go to bed thinking of only the positive this new doctor could bring. I grabbed on to hope and when the day arrived for my appointment, I just knew I would have answers that would have us moving in the right direction of having a family.