Never forget

Tucked away in a box of old papers and pictures is an ultrasound picture from May 2000. It isn't a baby. At least it wasn't yet. It is an ultrasound picture of two follicles I grew that month, one of which fertilized and became our first baby. I found out I was pregnant on May 27, 2000, our second wedding anniversary. It wasn't meant to be, however, and just over a week later, I miscarried. I still think of that baby so often.

Once upon a time, I was infertile and thought I would never have a baby. It's hard to remember that some times, four babies--two planned and two unplanned--later. Getting pregnant was the hard part the first time. Staying pregnant--and healthy--became the challenges in subsequent pregnancies.

When I was 20 and Eric and I had only been married for a year, we decided we wanted to have a baby. Easy enough, right? Wrong! My periods were pretty well nonexistent at that point. My gynecologist at the time told me that I should go on the pill. Uh, I want to get pregnant, not prevent it. As is my nature, I began researching and began to suspect I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. The more I read about it, the more I did NOT want to have it. My boss had just gotten pregnant and told me that I should see her OB/GYN because he was also a fertility specialist. I didn't realize then the impact my first appointment with him would be.

Within five minutes of meeting me, Dr. Simckes told me that I had PCOS. He hadn't done any tests or exams. He just listened. I told him about my history of long cycles which turned into no cycles, weight gain, and other symptoms. He told me what he would see on an ultrasound--ovaries covered in a "ring of pearls" or cysts. Sure enough, a little while later when he did an ultrasound, there was the ring of pearls. I cried. I was devastated. I always wanted to be a mom and suddenly, it seemed like it might never happen. Bloodwork confirmed what Dr. Simckes already knew and we decided to take a few months to think about a course of action.

A few months later, November 1999, Eric and I were in Dr. Simckes' office and I asked him for Clomid. He told me, you need Metformin. I said, no I just want to get pregnant, give me Clomid. Got the Clomid and nothing. I didn't even ovulate. Another month of Clomid left me with a large cyst on one of my ovaries and we had to wait for it to go away. I finally agreed to start Metformin while we waited. In March 2000, the cyst was gone and I started another month of Clomid. Imagine my surprise that month when I noticed my temperature chart actually show a spike instead of a flat line. I finally ovulated. Or, at least, we suspected I had because as Dr. Simckes would say, the only way to confirm ovulation is to get pregnant. I wasn't pregnant that month, or the next. But in May, as I said above, I finally saw that second magical line on the EPT.

Six months later, I was pregnant again. I hadn't even used Clomid. I ovulated on Metformin alone. Thirty six long weeks later (full of anxiety for both Dr. Simckes and me--I'm pretty sure I drove him nuts), my beautiful boy was born. I will never forget the moment Dr. Simckes held up my first born for me to see.

Here we are now, almost ten years later. That beautiful first born son of mine turns TEN on July 19. Three little sisters, a devastating loss, and hope--ten years of parenting wrapped up in four little faces, three I see every day and one I only see in my dreams, and two tiny angels that were barely a whisper before they were gone. I will never forget the journey that brought me to where I am now. How could I? For better or for worse, this is the life I was meant to live.