Where was I? Oh, yes....we were wanting to start having kids!
When we lived in Colorado, I began to lose a lot of hair, had other issues with...ahem...regular women things, and even had an incredibly painful cyst burst on an ovary. This led to doctor's visits, bloodwork, and an ultra sound. It was then discovered that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). If you want to read all about it, google it. But to make a long, boring story short--my body has insulin issues which causes hormone imbalances. And as you well know, I NEED those hormones to make babies.
What beautiful babies we are capable of making....
Beautiful, beautiful, perfect little babies....
So when we decided to get pregnant, we suspected that my PCOS might play a role in things, but you can never know for sure. When we moved to Memphis, my OBGYN prescribed medication to help treat the PCOS--Metformin. Metformin is a medication that many diabetics take to help with insulin levels. The hope was that Metformin would regulate my insulin, and as a result, my hormones would become more normal.
I mentioned in the last post that I'd been talking about kids for years, but I'm not certain that I realized just how badly I wanted a baby until my emotional meltdown after about six months of negative pregnancy tests. This was a really difficult time for me. I wondered if PCOS was the incorrect diagnosis because the doctors had not been 100% certain and had really not talked me through much. I wondered if I had some other horrible condition. I wondered if we'd adopt, and if so, where would we get the money? I wondered if our road to expanding our family would take years. I wondered why we had not begun the process sooner if we suspected that we'd have problems. I really didn't trust that God's timing was perfect. I knew it in my head, but I didn't believe it with my soul. Have you ever been there? Daily my soul was groaning for faith and belief, but I was believing lies. I finally talked to my OBGYN who quickly referred me to a fertility specialist, Dr. Detti.
I was an emotional wreck because I feared her telling me that I was infertile entirely. We had not told anyone that we were having trouble or considering seeing a specialist, and so Jed had to console and comfort me in those moments. As wonderful as he was, my mind was all over the place. I longed to have children so badly, and patience is a very weak point for me. I saw so many of my friends around me having children, and I rejoiced with them and loved those children so much. I wanted my kids to be their friends!
Dr. Detti ran all sorts of tests on both of us to rule out some things, and it was confirmed that I had PCOS. For the first time, the condition was explained to us so incredibly well, and we decided that we weren't in a hurry (yeah right....I was trying to trust God and Jed was in no hurry), so Dr. Detti doubled my Metformin dose.
A few months later, and probably 10 pregnancy tests later, I still wasn't pregnant. I cried my eyes out. I finally told Jed that we had to tell our families and a couple of close friends. We had wanted to surprise the mess out of the family with, "We're pregnant!" NOT "We can't get pregnant!" I was hurting, and I felt alone, really alone. I needed women who understood the longing for pregnancy, and I needed encouragement and prayer. I cried out to God to make me believe that He knew what He was doing, and I cried out to God that I knew He'd placed the desire for children in me for a reason. I cried because I knew that children would fix nothing. I knew that it would be difficult for little people to live in a house with me, and I'd be frustrated and I'd see more of my sin and the effects of it on others than ever before. But I wanted that so badly. Jed held me, and he comforted me, and he prayed with me. He loved me well. But I needed more support.
So we finally told our immediate families and a couple of very close friends. Our family and friends surrounded us. They spoke God's deepest promises to me. Jed told me constantly that I was fearfully and wonderfully made. My mom told me that it was okay to cry and to want children and that God had already designed the perfect child for me. Rox sent encouraging texts every time I had a doctor's appointment. Jed's mom told me that the Spirit was groaning to the Father the words that I did not have. My sisters called me, encouraged , and hugged me. My daddy prayed with me and for me. They all cried with me. They were my support team. God made it so. He placed them there, and He showed me grace and mercy. He comforted me, He came into my darkness when I felt alone, and He promised me that my contentment was based on Him and not the hope of having children.
So Jed and I worked, played, and lived....very seriously of course, we have no sense of humor at all. I feel bad for us. Poor us.
Whew. I'm emotional. AND exhausted. I need to peace out. Part III very soon!!