We need to talk,” said the nurse to me. I knew something was wrong. “You are suffering from an ectopic pregnancy and need to have emergency surgery today, now.” I remember that day, July 5, 1997.
Disclaimer: This is our personal account and experience with infertility. I do not claim to be a medical expert in this field. Please do not take information from my post as medical advice. If you are in need of medical care, please seek help from a healthcare professional.
Ectopic pregnancy was not so new to me. Five years before, a friend had described to me what her friend had endured. She had suffered two ectopic pregnancies and was told that she could not have children. How absolutely sad, I thought.
Five years later, here I was hearing those words about me. I was told that I would lose the embryo and probably part, if not all, of my left fallopian tube and ovary. The doctors assured me that I could still get pregnant with one remaining tube and ovary, but the chances of another ectopic pregnancy was extremely high as well.
I wasn’t so devastated though. I was no longer in a relationship with the would-be father and so I saw this as a sign. I packed up my things and headed to Florida to start a new life.
It wasn’t long after that that I met my husband. During our courtship, I told him about my first pregnancy and the chance that I may not be able to have children. With all this, he didn’t care so long as we were together.
We eventually got married and immediately tried to start our family. It was hard at first because he was in the navy and would have to go out to sea here and there. This can be very inconvenient when ovulating.
Eventually, his duties at sea lightened and we kept trying for another year with no success. We sought professional help but to no avail. We finally gave up.
As the years passed by, I covered my emotions by telling everyone that we didn’t want kids. I also felt guilty because I knew I was the cause of our infertility. Then, we did what some other infertile couples do, we got a pet. But we also worked on ourselves. We went back to college, we bought and sold a home, and worked on our plans for retirement.
During our sixth year of marriage, we were longing for something more. We began taking better care of ourselves by exercising more frequently, dropping some pounds, and eating better. But with all these changes, I was not getting pregnant.
One day I had had it. I called my dad crying. I asked him why this was happening to me. I asked why was it okay for abusive parents to have kids but not me. I was sobbing about how unfair this whole situation was.
And then my dad said something to me that opened my eyes. He asked if I was able to walk and I said yes. He asked if my arms worked, and I said yes. He told me that I just didn’t see how lucky I was. He said that there were people less fortunate then me and infertility was the least of their problems. He assured me of how fortunate my life was and he was right (as always).
That night my husband and I talked and we decided to research everything from IVF to adoption. But honestly I didn’t want to do IVF. I feared it wouldn’t work, that it would solidify the fact that I was “broken“. So, I pushed for adoption.
After months of research on adoption, my husband asked that we consider IVF. I was firmly against this but he said we owed it to ourselves to try to have our own children first. He said if it doesn’t work out then he would be on board with adoption. How could I deny him this after being so good to me for what I felt was “my fault“.
So, IVF was back on the table. We met with doctors and went through all the necessary steps. It was a bit grueling with the shots and having doctors “down there” for almost every visit. But we stayed the course that summer of 2004.
It was October of that year that we got the call. My blood test had revealed that I was pregnant. I don’t think I was ever so happy and scared at the same time. I was afraid that I was messing with my fate and that I would miscarry because I was not meant to have kids.
The following month we went in for my first ultrasound. The doctor had revealed that we were having twins.
In May of 2005, we became the proud parents of our boys. Knowing the journey we took to have them, made that day so much sweeter. Family and friends were so happy for us and some would comment that wouldn’t it be ironic if we got pregnant naturally after having endured what we went through to have our babies.
Well, sure enough, a mere five months after having the boys, I became pregnant, naturally. Unfortunately, it was the second ectopic that I had always feared. This time the embryo, my right tube and all my hopes of having additional children were removed.
Every day I say to myself how lucky I am, however, I still want a girl. Just because I had my boys the fact remains that I still suffer from infertility and it still hurts. So, how do I cope? In the only way I know how: I am looking forward to being a grandma in the coming decades.
Disclosure: Some of the links below are affiliate links that I have provided for your convenience. Click here to read my full disclosure policy.