"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of
incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was
the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us,
we had nothing before us..." from A Tale of Two Cities
I think maybe Charles Dickens was on to something. As an astute observer of humanity, he saw that everything is a study in contrast and balance, that there is good to be found within bad and light within the darkness. In another one of his novels, Great Expectations, he taught us that while we are often made for great things and expected by ourselves and others to accomplish them, that the road to get there is often not one we had in mind.
The Worst of Times
Kevin and I are currently working on year eight of marriage, and we dated for five years before that. I think it was just everyone's expectation that we would just want to start a family as soon as we got married, but we were quick to dispel those ideas by telling everyone we were on a "five year plan." To us, there was no need to rush right into things, and we knew, given my family's history, that things might not be that easy either.
About three years in our marriage in 2008, we began to get that itch and toy with the idea that maybe we were ready. I mean, we had our cute little house, good solid jobs, and my 7th period class had taken to calling me Mama Banes. The idea was tempting, so when I went to my endocrinologist appointment that Spring Break, I had planned on telling them we were a go, and I wanted to check all my hormones to see if anything was out of whack. Unfortunately, that was just an afterthought the minute my doctor said she felt a suspicious lump on my neck during the routine physical exam. Within six weeks, I had gone through a neck ultrasound, a biopsy of the nodule, to the devastating news that it was cancer, and it was malignant. Now, malignant papillary thyroid cancer has a 96% survival rate, or as we were told, it was "the best type of cancer to have" (although to this day, I still say the best cancer to have is NO cancer). It was a quick surgery to remove my thyroid completely, and about two months later, I had to do a dose of radioactive iodine to kill of any remaining thyroid cells.
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| In 2008, after my thyroidectomy |
Since it hadn't spread to any of my lymph nodes, I was done - no chemo, no radiation. Two months later - it was like it hadn't even happened, except for the fact that we now had to wait at least two years to even start thinking about a family. I'm not going to lie - it was a hard two years. Two years of watching friends and family celebrating their own additions and trying not to feel jealous or left out. Two years of people asking when we were going to start already. Two years of people making comments about whether we knew what we were doing or why we didn't like kids or a myriad of other callous and ignorant remarks. Two years of just feeling like we were missing out.
So, when those two years were over, we were definitely in the game now; we were ready, no more waiting! We tried, and the tests kept coming up negative. So we tried with me tracking things natural family planning style, and nothing happened. I went back to the endocrinologist, and she said I was stressed (really?) and gave me meds for that and some Clomid to help the process along. Three more tries and three more results of negative. By then, that pregnancy test and I had developed quite an adversarial relationship to say the least.
During all this trying, time had rapidly passed, and we found ourselves facing 2011. We had moved, changed jobs, gotten a dog, but still felt there was that void in our lives. I knew we needed to go to an infertility specialist, but I kept putting it off saying I was too busy with school. What I really didn't want to do is go and have some doctor tell me I couldn't even do what I was biologically programmed for in this life. But we finally did, and when we went, the news wasn't good. When all the tests came back and the inspections were done, Dr. H, we'll call him, said I should just go ahead and start thinking about using donor eggs if I wanted to get pregnant, and that I had about a 5% chance of getting pregnant using my own eggs. Talk about devastating, but there was still that 5%, and Kevin and I, if anything, we're people who lived our lives against the odds. Oh, and on top of that, both my tubes were partially to fully blocked. It was straight to IVF, which in the U.S. is not covered by insurance or reasonably priced. So we did two cycles of IVF, one in the fall of 2011 and one in the spring of 2012, and we faced two more disappointments. At that point, Dr. H just treated us like we were idiots for still even trying without donor eggs, and it was time for a change.
The Best of Times
So we did our research again, and we found Dr. Dorothy Roach, a reproductive endocrinologist who specialized in poor or low responders to treatment. Immediately, things were different. She genuinely cared about our concerns, did her research into my different conditions, and made a plan of attack for us. At no time did she tell us we were on an impossible journey. At no time did she make me feel guilty that this was somehow all my fault like Dr. H did. At every turn, we were reassured and blessed by her office's caring and compassionate attitude.
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| The two transferred embryos, aka our baby's first picture |
We waited until the summer to try IVF again - one because her office was in the Woodlands and it meant quite a drive for me multiple days a week and two because she wanted my body to reset itself naturally - no drugs, a good diet, no stress (yay for summer vacation). That meant July was the month - the month of pills, shots, blood tests, ultrasounds, and waiting. Lots of waiting. July 27th, the retrieval date, came. I had made four eggs - three of which looked really good. Then, there was more waiting - they had to have time to be fertilized and grow. The big question this time was, would they? August 1st - the day of transfer. We had made it here twice before, but the status of the embryos were always less than desirable which led to negative results. This time, however, things were different. This time we had fighters. This time we had nurses and doctors who believed in God and the power of prayer. This time we actually had hope.
Then, came the dreaded "two week wait," which was actually only ten days. Ten days of self-doubt. Ten days of no ultrasounds to ease your mind that everything's okay. Ten days of obsessively watching the Olympics at all hours, just to get my mind off of things. Ten days of actually wishing I was back at school teaching. Ten days of having to fully rely on faith that this was all in God's plan.
August 10th - pregnancy test day. This time, Kevin went with me as I was not in a state to drive to the Woodlands by myself. I had always tried to be the "brave one" who could do it alone, but this time, Kevin had to sit and anxiously wait by the phone for them to call. We paid extra to have them do it in their lab because the test would only take an hour, about the amount time it would take us to drive home. I remember telling Kevin on the car ride home that I felt like I had just walked out of a major math test, just knowing that I had failed. There were lots of tears, mostly from me, as I tried to not let the fear and disappointment take over while waiting. We made it home though, and I crawled into bed to wait it out. Then, the phone rang.
The nurse, Janna, was on the other end, and her exact words were, "Hey hon, I have your test results (in a super calm, almost sad voice followed by a LONG pause). You're PREGNANT!" It was all kind of a blur after that, but I remember there was a lot of screaming and crying and thanks. It was truly an answer to five years' worth of prayers.
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| The baby at 12 weeks , 6 days - last day of the first trimester |
Afterwards, we've been cautiously optimistic since we knew we had to make through the first trimester to really be safe. We only told those people who HAD to know. We secretly had little jokes and giggles amongst the two of us. We had nighttime talks in bed about how awesome and scary this was. We've had to lie to people's faces when they ask about kids (sorry guys!). We've had three whole months to just relish in the fact that we've gone through some of the worst of times to get to what we expect will be some of the best of times. Now, we're realists, so we know that not everything's going to be puppy dogs and rainbows (hello, morning sickness at night), but we're believers too. Believers that life and God doesn't just throw these curve balls at you without teaching you a lesson or leaving you stronger. Dickens was right; life can be the best of times and the worst of times. It's the adventure in between the two that makes us who we are.