“What do you mean I probably won’t be able to have anymore children? I had an eighty-percent chance to have my first child. I’m confused here,” I said frantically as I searched the doctor’s eyes for some sort of answer.
My doctor looked concerned as she answered me, “I mean just that. You have a lot of scarring from cysts and surgeries. You’re chances are slim.”
“But what about all the fertility procedures? Surely, there is something you can do?” I feebly asked, shaking my head as if I already knew what her next words were.
My doctor answered, “There may be some options, but, your chances don’t look good. Besides, you have been off your medication long enough, you really need to go back on it to suppress the endometriosis again. Let’s try six more months of medication to suppress the disease, and then we can talk later about fertility options.”
I was so frustrated at this point. My husband and I wanted three years between our children and our oldest was quickly approaching his fifth birthday. I looked up at my doctor with tears in my eyes, “I just can’t wait any longer. I don’t want to go back on medication. I’m sorry. I need some time to think this over.”
I left the office that bleak day in January, feeling so confused. The pain of wanting another child had become unbearable. I had always wanted two children. The emptiness was so apparent in my life.
The next few months flew by, the pain gnawing away inside as I stubbornly refused to take any more medication. I kept myself busy during the days caring for my wonderful husband and beautiful little boy. At night, I would read the bible searching for answers and then cry myself to sleep.
Five months later, on a brisk day in April, I realized the pain had become too much. “Honey, I’m done. If it’s not God’s will, I just need to accept that. We are so richly blessed with a beautiful little boy. Let’s stop trying. I’ll do whatever it is going to take to relieve the pain. I accept the fact that I am not in control. I’ll make an appointment as soon as possible.”
My husband squeezed my hand and asked, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I called that next morning and was stunned to find out that they couldn’t get me in to see the doctor until six more weeks!
Five weeks and five days later, I started having dizzy spells and nausea. “I feel like I’m fighting the flu or something,” I sleepily said to my husband.
Off and on for the next few days, I battled the flu-like symptoms. I decided to drag myself into the doctor’s office even though I was feeling so sick.
When I explained my symptoms, my doctor looked quizzically at me and asked, “Do you think you might be pregnant?”
“What? Well, uh, I don’t think so I just had my period.” I briefly answered my OB/GYN of ten years.
“Well, let’s run a test, just to rule it out,” she replied.
As I sat in her office listening to the sounds of muffled voices, and flipping nonchalantly through a magazine, I tried not letting myself get too excited. I had been down this road so many times before and always ran smack dab into a brick wall each time.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, my doctor quickly walked into the room softly closing the door behind her. Searching her face for some clue as to what she was going to say, was futile. Her expression was distant and blank as she crossed her arms and leaned against the gray counter. I felt like screaming out as she stood there expressionless. But, somehow I stayed composed. Seconds went screaming by, when finally she cleared her throat and said, “Well, it looks like your not sick at all. Unless, you consider morning sickness an illness or a blessing.”
I hastily jumped up off of the crinkly paper of the exam table grabbing her and squeezing her in awe and disbelief. “A blessing! Oh, most definitely a blessing!”
James 1:12 - Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him. NIV