This picture of my little family was taken when the RedDog was only 5 months old, back in November of 2003. After a turbulent summer, we had finally adjusted to life in a new home with a new little fellow who charmed us all. And so we have remained, just the five of us, for the past five and a half years.
About two years after this picture was taken, The Hubby and I knew it was time to bring one last brother or sister into our brood. How did we know? Just a feeling - a feeling of being incomplete. A feeling of being ready. A feeling of joy at the prospect of tiny fingers and toes to hold and a sweet little head to cradle. It was a very real feeling.
When we learned I was pregnant in October of 2005, we were beyond thrilled. We waited about 10 weeks before we shared the news with our families as a Christmas surprise. Two weeks later, I miscarried for the first time. I have never written about the sorrow and anguish of that experience, possibly because it is too hard to even put into words. I remember feeling very numb and quite disconnected from myself. There came a point in my grieving, where I could not process what had happened anymore and I realized that I needed to turn my feelings over to Jesus Christ, who had suffered my pain already and knew how to handle it. With that decision came an immense healing and an added measure of empathy for those I had known who had also suffered miscarriages. How could I have not realized their pain? Only by feeling it myself did I finally understand it.
We moved forward, still believing fully that we would have another child join our family. Days, weeks and months went by, but for some reason, my body did not want to get pregnant. I kept reminding myself that instead of focusing on that one negative, I needed to enjoy the three rambunctious yet beautiful kids I already had and see all the positive things that were happening in my life.
In April of 2007, we finally received happy news - I was pregnant again. This time, the pregnancy only lasted 6 weeks. This second miscarriage was much easier than the first. I wasn't as far along, I knew what to expect and I had insulated myself against the prospect of another pregnancy that might not end well. We did not tell many people that I was pregnant, and consequently, not many knew about the miscarriage. I preferred a private sorrow the second time and relied on my family for support.
As many of you know, in December of 2007, my father was diagnosed with throat cancer. I have often looked back at the timing of things and wondered how I would have been able to help my parents if I'd had a newborn baby at the time of his diagnosis. I do not believe in coincidence. I know that our Heavenly Father knows all things and can see the grand scheme of my life in ways I could not imagine. Having this knowledge has truly been a saving grace for me as we continued to struggle to have a child.
And so it came to be that a woman who had three successful back to back pregnancies with no complications entered into the category of "infertility case". Some may wonder, "Why continue to try and be disappointed when you already have three kids?" I understand why people might think that. I know there are numerous couples who struggle to have even one child, and my heart aches for them. But for us, it continually came back to that feeling - that feeling we had that there was one more spirit waiting to join our family. We could not deny that feeling because it had been very strong.
In July of 2008, with another year of no pregnancy behind us, the Hubby and I decided it was finally time to discuss infertility options with my doctor. Since I was 35, I was given the lovely label of AMA or advanced maternal age. Helpful. Really. My doctor told me that due to my age and history, they would immediately refer me to fertility doctors. This was a little overwhelming. I knew others who'd gone that route and had vast and various invasive tests done over a lengthy period of time. I knew a cousin who'd just had quintuplets! We really had to ask ourselves how bad we wanted another baby. And then we proceeded.
After setting up appointments and filling out 25 pages of paperwork with fantastic questions like "When did you first recognize your breast buds beginning to form?" (I can't remember, but it was later than most and I am just as embarrassed to admit it now as I was to be flat-as-Kansas back then, thank you very much) we waited for the day to come when we would have our first consultation.
Two days before the consultation I received a call from the fertility clinic informing me that our insurance was going to cover ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in the process - not even the consultation. I would therefore need to show up with $5o0 the next day for the consultation and everything thereafter would be out-of-pocket. I tearfully called the Hubby and relayed the message to him. We both knew at that point that our hopes of help from fertility doctors would not be realized.
This event marked a turning point for me in this journey we had been on for three some odd years. I felt released. I felt myself letting go of the dream I'd had. I felt myself reconciling and taking account of my life. I realized that I could no longer be consumed with the singular thought of another child. I knew that I had to give myself to my family now and not keep hoping for a family-to-be that frankly wasn't going to be. And eventually, I found myself one day on my knees having a conversation with God, telling him that I was okay with it. I had realized His will for me to was to be the best mom I could to Big C, Hannie B and RedDog and that I wanted to do what He wanted me to do. That was my renewed promise to him. I wept out of sorrow and then out of joy because I felt like He heard me and was happy with my decision. Then I went downstairs and did the dishes.
Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.
