Tuesday, April 22, 2014

An Adopted Heartbeat: Part 1

         “It must not be God’s will.” 
“I got pregnant with my husband just looking at me.”  Newly infertile,    I’d just give a courteous smile and nod.  12 years later…I’d reply with “No, I have zero doubt God wants me to be a momma.” 
“Well, Jason and I have been doing much more than looking at each other.”  I wouldn’t ask for advice, but sure seemed to get it.  I became bitter.  Well, I’ll be honest.  I became MAD.
         I’d preach at myself.  Tara, you have an awesome husband.  You both have awesome jobs and make great money.  You travel to Mexico   whenever you want.  You have a summer house on the lake.  You are healthy.  You have a close-knit, healthy, fun, and supportive family.  God has blessed you in numerous ways.  Is it not enough?  I’d fake it, put on my bright smile, and play the game.  Truth was – no – it wasn’t enough.  My self-sermons were only buying time; getting me through weekend to weekend. 
(Stick with me.  I get positive.  I’m very honest and need to tell the whole truth.)
         Jason and I were high school friends, friends only.  We reconnected in 1999.  Timing was perfect in our reconnection.  (We’d have never made it in high school.  I was older.  I liked more of the bad boys.  I was ignorant, actually. )  He says he never thought he could get me.  I say I’m sure glad he tried 10 years later.  It was love.  I know that sounds like a cliché, but it really was.  I couldn’t get close enough to him.  I still can’t.  He skipped a lot of work to be with me.  We married 5 months later.  We will celebrate year 15 in August.
         After we celebrated our 1 year anniversary, we were ready to start a family.  I was already 26 and wanted 2-3 kids, so we started trying to get pregnant.  We weren’t tense.  We weren’t counting days or propping up on a pillow after sex. We were loving each other.  We made a baby.   I carried our first baby for 3 months.  We had the ultrasound picture on the frig.  We had the heartbeat as our answering machine recording.  Getting excited, we knew that we would hear boy/girl soon.  Then, I started bleeding.  It scared me some.  I didn’t get too alarmed, at first.  Doctor said to come on in.  Ultrasound showed no heartbeat.  Jason swears he will never forget my face.  Momma said she will never forget Jason’s.  I know we never got to hold and kiss on that baby, but we loved that baby.  I had a D & C that night.  (Jason still believes the D & C messed something up.) “I’m sorry sweetie.  There is no heartbeat.”  My heartbeat stopped, too. 
         We tried for several more years.  Now scheduling sex.  Counting.  Planning.  Propping.  We started Chlomid.  Ovulation Kits.  Baby Aspirin.  You name it, we tried it.  Doctor did several tests and exploratory surgeries that showed I was completely “normal”.   I was once labeled as “perfect”.  If someone mentioned another doctor “who could get a cactus pregnant”, I was there.  I drove an hour for weekly acupuncture treatments.  I went to an Amish doctor who told me I’ve had many miscarriages.  I begged God.  I’d breakdown when starting my period…every month for years.
         We moved on to a big, out-of-state fertility clinic.  Several intrauterine inseminations – no baby.  More meds and testing.  Normal!  Normal!  Normal!  I would roll my eyes when I’d hear normal.  I was ready to find a problem to solve.  We then moved on to the big daddy of fertility…Invitro Fertilization.  Jason gave me several shots a day.  I was crazy emotional.  This wasn’t covered by our insurance and cost us $15,000.  They implanted 3 embryos.  I was on 2 weeks of bed rest – bigger shots.  I got a positive pregnancy test.  I remember shouting.  Jason was home with me.  We cried and cried.  I miscarried weeks later.  Heartbroken…again.  Actually, heartbroken doesn’t describe it.  Just broken…
         A lightbulb came on.  I’m hit and miss praying.  I’m hit and miss going to church.  The only Bible reading I’ve really done was our Bible study at church.  I was trying to control it all.  I’m a “manager” in so many ways.  I’ve taught elementary for 16 years.  Being a manager, aka control freak, is part of the job.  I prayed only when I wanted something.  I was slacking.   
I was miserable.  
*****Tune in on Friday for the second half of this story*****



No comments:

Post a Comment