The day I finally found out I was pregnant, after nearly 1 1/2 years of trying, was definitely in the Top 5 days of my life. I was 3 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Pregnant! After hearing chances were high that we couldn’t have kids, I finally got to see the most beautiful sight: Two pink lines.
I was dancing on the clouds…with one foot on the ground. Because the mind of an infertile knows too much.
Five days after I got the news that I was pregnant, I was at an event with my new boss when I was feeling extremely light-headed from the fumes of the oil candles burning on all the tables. I left early but felt much better in the fresh air. The next day, my boss (and friend) pulled me aside and asked if he could ask me a personal question. Of course.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked me. I was stunned. We hadn’t even told our parents yet and my boss noticed when I was only 4 weeks and 3 days along?!
Tears immediately filled my eyes as I stammered yes, I was pregnant. I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I apologized for getting emotional, but I told him that we had been trying for a while and I wasn’t very far along yet. It was really, really hard for me to say that I was pregnant without crying (in a good way) for quite a while — and I was never a crier. But going through infertility treatments does that to a person.
I have a good friend who went through IVF and IS nearly 6 weeks pregnant right now, but it’s really hard for her to say it. (Congrats, MAMA!) Because like most of us, she’s still holding her breath. Just like I did.
Most women pee on a pregnancy test, see two lines, hug, call their OB to set up an appointment for a few weeks away and then go on their merry way, telling everyone. I’m envious. Me, I got the news that I was pregnant by phone from a nurse. And then I peed on those tests so I could see those lovely double lines that so many take for granted.
But just seeing those two lines didn’t mean my infertility journey was a thing of the past. I had to go for more bloodwork (called a beta) every four days to make sure that my numbers were rising appropriately to indicate a viable pregnancy. So I would hold my breath until my next beta, hoping and praying that those numbers kept going up. After I had 3 good betas, I got to have an ultrasound to make sure there was indeed a baby starting to grow in my uterus.
So I again held my breath until that first ultrasound when I was around 6 weeks along. Seeing that teeny tiny heartbeat was amazing…but I still wasn’t in the clear. I would have another ultrasound around 7-8 weeks along before my infertility doctor (reproductive endocrinologist) would “release” me to my OB. I held my breath, again, until we were able to see the heartbeat for a second time — meaning chances were looking pretty good that my baby would keep growing.
But spending time in the infertility world made me oh-so-aware of how upsettingly frequent miscarriages and losses are. My heart went out to so many friends I’d made who’d had to say goodbye to their little ones before they even got to say hello. I knew what the statistics and possibilities were and that was always in the back of my mind (Hugs to those who’ve had to say goodbye to their little angels).
Most people know that the first trimester has the highest chances of something happening, so once we hit 13 weeks and were into the second trimester I was able to breathe a little bit easier. I really tried not to think about the things that could go wrong but I’d learned too much in my journey to not be acutely aware of it. Luckily, we’d get to hear the heartbeat at my monthly appointments, which helped — but before each appointment I’d still hold my breath, praying we’d still hear it.
Did you know that hitting 24 weeks is an important week during pregnancy? Infertiles do. Infertiles know that it’s Viability Day — the day that chances become good (50%) that a baby could survive outside the womb. Every day thereafter, the chances increase. Reaching 24 weeks allowed me to breathe a little bit more.
Each little milestone meant I was that much closer to meeting my Tiny Dancer (because it sure felt like she was dancing in there while she was growing big and strong!), and almost done holding my breath. Reaching the third trimester, hitting 30 weeks, then 32 and 34 weeks…and 36 weeks, when chances were super good that her lungs were almost fully developed.
Then I hit 40 weeks…and I inched my way towards 41 weeks before AJ decided she wanted to enter the world. Meeting my daughter — all 9 pounds, 5 ounces and 21.5 inches of her — was definitely the top of the Top 5 days in my life!
I am so very thankful every single minute of every day that I was able to get pregnant, that I had a safe and uncomplicated pregnancy, that my delivery was uneventful (unless you count it being 24+ hours and a c-section with general anesthesia, but that’s another story) and that AJ was born very strong and healthy.
I could finally breathe again.
I am also thankful for my infertility journey — because without it, I wouldn’t be the same strong, patient, thankful mom I am today. And I also wouldn’t have some great friends who have been and are going through the same thing.
But I still wish it was a journey I didn’t have to take.
For more about my journey on becoming the pregnant infertile, check out My Story: Infertility Sucks and My Story: Infertility Really Sucks.
(If you or someone you know is struggling with infertility, check out Resolve: The National Infertility Association.)
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8 comments
Mrs. Weber says:
November 11, 2011 at 7:06 pm (UTC -4 )
A few notes:
- My favorite part? That you took a pregnancy test just so you could see those lines. Ha! I don’t blame you after all you went through.
- One thing that you were lucky about? An ultrasound at 6 weeks! I think any first time mama would love that. I had to wait until 13.
Love that you called her your “Tiny Dancer” – so adorable.
What an extraordinary journey, girl! Just glad you got through all this and came out on top (and proved those crazy docs wrong)!
Loved reading your story
This Side of 30 says:
November 12, 2011 at 9:39 pm (UTC -4 )
Ha, an ultrasound at 6 weeks is basically a black circle with a tiny dot the size of a pencil tip inside it!
But very reassuring to see.
I have some wonderful friends who made AJ some bloomers with “Tiny Dancer” embroidered on them; we had her 6-month photos taken with them! I should post it. But yes, she was definitely my Tiny Dancer! And she hasn’t stopped moving since, lol.
Thank you so much for reading my story! I’m glad you liked it — it means a lot.
Angela Scott says:
November 12, 2011 at 10:37 pm (UTC -4 )
We adopted our first son when we were told that a pregnancy wasn’t possible. We were head over hills with our little boy–I had never been happier. He is an amazing kid. Then we put in our paperwork to adopt another child, add to our family, and the then we waited. And waited. And waited. Three years went by. Nothing. We came close to adopting another, but the birth mother changed her mind. It was heart breaking.
The my sister-in-law got pregnant the first month they tried. I couldn’t stop crying. Not that I wasn’t happy for her, but because I was so sad for myself.
That was when my husband said that maybe we should try IVF (with the sperm inserted into the egg option–the most expensive). So we went for it. We plopped down our money, bought our medication from Italy since it was cheaper, and then I started taking the shots in my stomach and going to my visits.
A few weeks into the process, we got a phone call from our adoption agency that told us to go the next day at 1pm and pick up our baby boy. Our second son.
Needless to say, we backed off on the IVF. If it worked, it was possible I would have a 9 month old and a newborn.
We waited until our son was one year old, and then we went back (they still had our money after all) and started the whole process of IVF all over again.
I am blessed to say, we were able to get pregnant with our daughter (she is a healthy eight year old girl). I know exactly what you mean by the pink lines. I peed on them for days–I just wanted to see if the baby was still there. Even after the ultrasounds. I still peed on sticks. Damnit! I earned the right to pee on as many sticks as I wanted–especially after nine years of trying unsuccessfully.
I love all my children. They are mine in every sense of the word and I can’t imagine my life any other way. All three of them are miracles.
Thanks so much for sharing your story and for stopping by my blog. I don’t know that I would have found you any other way, but I am so glad that I did
This Side of 30 says:
November 12, 2011 at 10:58 pm (UTC -4 )
I’m so sorry your road to becoming a parent was difficult, and so long. I can’t even imagine how heart-wrenching it must have been with your adoption struggles! So many people are ill-informed at the adoption process and it’s obstacles and pain — thank you for sharing your story with me! I’m very happy for you that you ended up adding to your family and receiving such joy from adopting your sons. How wonderful!
I completely understand your reaction to your SIL getting pregnant on the first try, I had the same reaction several times. Like a knife through the heart. Happy for them, sad for you. I get it.
And how exciting for you that you were able to see those pink lines!
Such a thrill that many take for granted. Did you keep them?! 
Thank you for stopping by! I enjoy your blog; keep it up!
Angela Scott says:
November 12, 2011 at 10:39 pm (UTC -4 )
Oh, and we have a picture of our daughter in a petri dish when she was only 8 cells.
We showed it to her and she thinks she looked like spit.
This Side of 30 says:
November 12, 2011 at 10:59 pm (UTC -4 )
How funny! Amazing that you can get the pictures of the cells, isn’t it? Such a miracle.
Barbara says:
November 14, 2011 at 3:51 pm (UTC -4 )
Thanks so much for sharing your story!
This Side of 30 says:
November 14, 2011 at 9:27 pm (UTC -4 )
Thank you for reading it!