Our Infertility Story: The Beginning

“I am half agony, half hope.”
~Jane Austen 

My husband and I were married in late 2012, after having been together for several years. We had a relatively short engagement, because we already felt that our life together had started.

We enjoyed a couple of years as husband and wife, and honestly felt happier and more in love than ever. Less than a year into our marriage, I developed really strong case of baby fever, but knew that we were not ready to be parents yet.

We adopted a puppy instead, and loved that little man to pieces as we learned more about responsibly and taking care of a defenseless creature that needed us.

The following year, the dog was alive and well, and I was 30 and knew that neither of us were getting any younger. We knew it was time to start trying.

In all honesty, we did not officially start trying until 2014, but we also had not been careful in years. We didn’t need to be, because we would have been okay with having a baby at any point after we got married.

Still, I tried not to be bothered by the fact that we never got pregnant without trying. So much goes into conceiving, and before we started, I couldn’t have even told you when my period was expected.

I was clueless.

I started by downloading an app for my cell phone, and tracking my cycle.

I still remember how excited I was the first time my husband and I “tried” during my fertile days. That entire two week wait, I was ecstatic. I knew that it was going to work.

Back then I was a runner, who had just completed my first marathon. Right around this time, I had a friend who asked me to run a different marathon with him in about ten months.

I politely declined the invitation because I knew I would be too pregnant to run such a long race.

This was not the first big event I would turn down because I assumed I would be “with child.”

In the first few months, I really didn’t feel discouraged that it wasn’t happening right away. I knew that these things take time, and that a large number of women won’t get pregnant for at least six months.

I was still hopeful, and the process remained fun.

It wasn’t until the one year mark began to loom that I really started to feel uneasy. Even with that lingering so near, I remained optimistic.

While we were trying, we had made a pretty huge move and with that came stress and multiple other factors that could throw my cycle out of whack.

Despite my continued attempts at optimism, I slowly felt a gradual shift occurring within myself. I began to feel less excited for my friends who announced their pregnancies. Looking at baby pictures on Facebook became more difficult and I started hiding such posts from my feed.

After we passed one year of TTC, these feelings got a lot darker…quickly.

My brand new nephew was a reason for immense joy, but he also reminded me of how painfully childless I still was.

The week he was visiting my family, I was four days late. In our entire first year of trying, I had never been more than one day late. Despite a negative test, I was convinced that this was the cycle it had finally worked.

I was supposed to join my brother, the new baby, and our family for dinner on the night my period finally showed up.

To say that I was devastated would be a massive understatement. I called and told my family that I would not be able to join them because the nearly two hour drive was just going to be too much for me. I told them I felt too exhausted from work.

It wasn’t a lie. I was exhausted. I couldn’t even fathom finding the energy to watch television, play my computer, or read a book.

My husband was working late, and so I cried for hours, all alone in my grief.

Every part of me hurt, and the only good thing that I can say came from that night, was that it made me realize it was time to see an expert.

My OB had originally told me we just were not having enough sex, and I took that as a decent estimation of the situation. Now, I knew we needed more concrete information.

At my next visit, my OB ordered blood work. When everything came back normal, he referred me directly to a fertility expert. Since my insurance covered fertility, I didn’t have to jump through any hoops to see one. I was happy to be going straight to a doctor who would know exactly what I needed. It took me six weeks to get an appointment, but I was more than ready to wait that time if it meant we would finally have a baby.

I had no idea the heartbreak I was still in for.


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