I had been fervently praying that IF it was in God's Will, I would be able to announce a pregnancy at Christmas-time. December 14th I definitely learned that was not going to happen. If I said I wasn't crushed I would be epically lying through my teeth. If I said I didn't want to have a huge crisis of faith, I would be epically lying through my teeth. And if I said I didn't actually have a minor crisis of faith, I would be EPICally lying through my teeth.
But, it brought me to the end of myself. And the end of my doctor's selves. And the end of any manmade hope. We had decided we weren't going to go any further than the treatment we were already doing, so when for the 6th time Clomid didn't work, and the 2nd time Comid and hCG shot didn't work, I was ready to move on to the next treatment because OBVIOUSLY this wasn't working.
However... I was still willing to try the same thing again rather than do nothing. In my horrible state of emotionality trumps all, I was letting my fears get to me. "I don't ovulate at all on my own. I'm going to be in limbo for years until I ovulate next if we don't do something. I don't want to wait years..." So I called Dan and told him that I wasn't pregnant and that I was going to call Doc and see if we could do another round.
BUT, God didn't want me to do another round. I didn't have peace as I was calling Doc, but I called him anyway. We had planned a trip to Colorado for the holidays, and our flight left the 20th of December. We wouldn't get back until the 31st of December. I told this info to Doc and asked if it was going to be possible to start another round before we left. He said no, because he didn't want me going in for ultrasounds in Colorado over the holidays to measure my follicles. So, we decided we'd wait until I got back and start then, and he said to call him the morning after I got back to Florida.
Fair enough, I thought. However, I continued to have a lack of peace in my heart. I finally told Dan two days before we left for Colorado and after a weeks worth of struggling with myself, and with God, that I didn't feel peace about continuing treatment. I really WANTED to feel peace about continuing treatment. But I didn't, and I couldn't ignore it. Not to mention every message at church was about trusting God alone, letting go of fears, stepping out in faith. It was pretty obvious I was being rather forcefully warned that I needed to let go. And so, I purposed that I would. Sometimes you just have to decide you're going to do what you need to. This was one of those moments. It went against everything I was feeling at the moment, except for that nagging lack of peace.... but that nagging lack of peace is what I decided to follow.
I went to Colorado and as I was packing, I purposely left all "trying to conceive" stuff at home. My thermometer, my ovulation predictor strips, my pregnancy tests. I made myself ignore the apps on my phone, and the groups on facebook I was a part of. I just enjoyed my Christmas NOT thinking about getting pregnant, to be honest. Almost as soon as I started, I wanted to continue forcing myself to not think about it. It was the hugest relief, and just in time for the Christmas season (which, by the way, is my favorite holiday EVER). I was having a total blast in Colorado, and my mind was free to focus on other things for the first time in 18 months.
Christmas Day, we headed up to my parent's place from Dan's mom's house in Colorado Springs. We celebrated Christmas with the whole family and not even once did I struggle with sadness that I didn't have a kid, either with me or in my belly, that being the first time I could say that since my miscarriage in June '10. I was ecstatic.
On the 29th I took pictures of my friend's baby, Caden. He was so darn cute I could barely stand myself, and for the first time in 18 months I could honestly be okay that someone else had a baby and I didn't. And then, later that day at lunch with my Mother-In-Law as she headed up to Nebraska, I noticed I started feeling like I had ovulated. I quickly passed it off as just weird wacky hormones, being that I was off the Clomid now and my body was adjusting. But, the next day, it was like ALL of my ovulation symptoms hit me with vengeance. I tried to still deny it, thinking "There's no way I've ovulated on my own, let alone on day 14. Get over it." But after we got home and I still felt all of the symptoms, I started to wonder if I had.
I noticed most of my symptoms were exaggerated. For example, I normally get a little more agitated when I get PMS, but this was a bit more than usual. I was pretty emo. I couldn't read people's statuses on Facebook without getting upset. I thought "This hasn't happened to me since I was 16 with raging hormones." I knew I ovulated stronger on my own than I ever had with Clomid, so I passed it off as simply having more progesterone in my system than I had when ovulating on the Clomid. I asked myself "Why would God have me to ovulate on my own for the first time in.... SO long, and not work some magic with that little eggy?" Then "Well, God works in mysterious ways. He's probably planning on teaching you something through it. Trust, trust, trust." I said that to myself at least 17 times a day.
I started to calculate the date I knew I should start, and going by my past cycles where I'd ovulated on my own I knew I should start on January 10th. So, closer and closer to that day I started wondering. My body was doing some straaaaaannnngggeeee things. Again, I said "No way, Ashlee. It's just all the extra progesterone." And I truly believed the little voice in my head that said it. Until I was late.
Never once in my entire life have I had a luteal phase (phase from ovulation to period) longer than 14 days unless I had taken the hCG shot, in which case it was 16 days. I said to myself on the 11th, "Well, your body probably just got used to the 16 day luteal phase. You'll start tomorrow." Tomorrow came but the period didn't. Then, I said, "Well, if I don't start by tomorrow I'll take a test. There's no way. But, I'll take a test. Just in case something weird is happening and I need to stop drinking caffeine."
Let me tell you, I had never had so much caffeine in my life as I had in the last month. I got a Starbucks Caramel Macchiato nearly everyday. I got a sweet tea with my lunch from Chick-fil-a nearly everyday. I did everything a trying-to-have-a-baby person should not do. I ran two miles three times a week. I cleaned 2 houses a day with toxic chemicals. I ate a bunch of crap with almost no nutritional value. I stretched in weird ways and was in awkward positions cleaning baseboards most of the day. And, it was FUN.
That night I got super crampy and just 'knew' the end to this horrendous cycle was coming the next day. So, I got up the next day and did not take a test like I said I would. To be honest, it was mostly because I forgot, since I was running late for work that day. Lindsey, my boss, picked me up and we headed to the first house. It took all of about four seconds for her to notice I wasn't my normal self. I was quite hyped up, everytime I checked facebook I would burst out into some loud, obnoxious rant about how just utterly ridiculous someone's post was. And then, I posted my own status. It said something to the effect of "If you're pregnant, stop whining about it. After all, there is a little miracle in your belly." Pretty sure it was less direct than that, but you get the point.
Well, being that it was Friday night, I was exhausted. Wiped out. So, I went to bed early. I fell asleep watching a show with the hubby. I woke up the next morning and realized my dear friend who had so faithfully visited me for the last 17 months was not here... and had a minor freak out in my bed. It was like 7:30 on a Saturday morning and I was wide awake wondering why I was here at 18 days post ovulation with no Aunt Flow. I was actually upset. I said, "Now, WHY would my body do this to me. This is just cruel. But, I better take a test, so I don't go get that Starbucks I desperately want right now if it so happens to be positive. Ha. Ha." I actually laughed at myself, and even as I was unwrapping the test I was asking myself why, just why, was I planning on wasting the $6 this test cost me.
So, I peed. And I looked at my phone. And it was 7:37 AM, January 14th. And the test said to wait 5 minutes before reading. So, I played scrambling with friends games until 7:42 AM on January 14th. Then, I said a quick little prayer telling God that no matter what that dang test said I still loved Him and I would accept with gladness whatever the result was. And after a quick little glance I pretty much lost it.
There were two lines. I never thought I could spontaneously combust and live through it, but that's a little what it felt like. My heart was beating out of my chest, I was crying and snotting all over myself, grabbing my towel and wiping the tears away so I could see the test again, crying some more when I realized I was holding a stick with two lines on it. My legs were numb probably because I had been sitting on the toilet for like 20 minutes at this point. I was a hot mess. But I was a very, very, very grateful hot mess. I sat there praying and crying for a few more minutes. Then I went and told Dan.See, I always wanted to do it cute. But, the thing is, when you can barely feel your legs, you've been expelling all sorts of fluids out of your body for the last 20 minutes and you're shaking, you can't really hide it. And I couldn't really stay in the bathroom much longer without Dan starting to wonder if the toilet ate me. So I walked out in literal emotional shock and just said "Daaaaaannnn....." and showed him the test. That's literally all I could muster.
He promptly jumped out of bed and said "Are you pregnant??" I just nodded my head and he grabbed my hands and started jumping up and down. Those of you who know Dan.... this is the hugest reaction ever. Then, he stopped and looked at me and said "You're pregnant!!!"
Haha, I didn't believe him. I didn't believe the test either, frankly! Just too much to take in all at once when something you've wanted so badly for so long has finally happened by a MIRACLE.
Well, we pretty much told all close friends and family by that night. I wanted prayer. With my history and now knowing my mutation that causes miscarriages, I was a bit mortally petrified. Especially the next morning when I started spotting. And when I say spotting I mean you probably wouldn't have noticed it unless you were mortally petrified. So, I called Doc.
He says "You got pregnant? By yourself?" I said "well, I had a little help from my Friend Upstairs. But yes, I'm pregnant." He was stunned. Like, really people, this was not supposed to be medically possible. So, after a long story of what was going on, he calls in some bloodwork and says if that looks good we'll do an ultrasound.
Long story short: My levels on Monday morning were 338. Very nice. My levels Wednesday morning were 618.5. Also, very nice. They scheduled an ultrasound for the 26th of January, since I should be 6 weeks at that point. It was the most nervwracking thing I've ever done, that first ultrasound is crucial for people like me with concerning history. Is it in the right place? Are all the elements of a healthy pregnancy there? Will it be the right dates? Will there be more than one? Will there be a heartbeat?
This is what we saw in the first ultrasound. Doesn't look like much, does it? What you're looking at is the yolk sac, the sac that holds all the nutrients for the baby to eat until it can form the placenta and get nutrition from me. On the left side of the circle it's a little more pronounced, and if you weren't there for the ultrasound you probably won't be able to tell, but that's the 'fetal pole.' Basically, the beginings of baby Dashlee. Directly above the white circle in a black circle, you see a darker slash that runs horizontally to the baby. That's a pocket of blood. He said that's probably why I was spotting. He dated this ultrasound at 4.5 - 5 weeks which needless to say made me nervous, since I was supposed to be at least 6 weeks by my dates. I promptly google diagnosed myself and found that it wasn't really a concern.
Well, one ultrasound down. They scheduled me to come back and hear the heartbeat in two weeks. So, February 9th rolls around, and I'm fine and I'm SICK. I have never been so happy to be bowing to the porcelain gods three times a day in my life. It hit me promptly at 7 weeks and hasn't stopped since, so thank the Good Lord for zophran, or I would be one miserable sick lady who would be in the hospital since all she can do at home is puke up water. I feel normal and awesome on the Zophran, and the only thing I really struggle with is the food aversions (is it possible to be aversed to everything except Chipotle and Buffalo Wild Wings?).
There's the big update of my life. This kid's a true miracle. And I am so grateful. I guess God wanted all the credit for FBD and boy did He ever get it. I would attempt to thank all of you for praying, but that would just be useless on a blog post. The kind of prayer that produces this result is something to be thanked personally. Even though I want to barf at the thought of rottiserie chicken and I puke every now and then even on anti-nausea meds, I've had 2 ultrasounds, 2 blood draws, and have missed my period two months in a row, it's still hard to believe sometimes. I feel SO blessed. I also don't deserve this, but the Lord is merciful and gracious and has seen fit to grow me through this. And, did I mention I'm grateful?
As of now, being 9 - 9.5 weeks, I have another ultrasound scheduled for the 21st at 8:30. This is the mother of all ultrasounds. The Big Kicker. The Motherload. If baby is still doing well, I get released to an OB/GYN to figure out if I'm high risk or not. And, well, that's pretty huge when you've never made it past 5 weeks before.
Also, did I mention the baby will actually look like a baby then?
Love, Ash, Dan, and, yes..... BD. Baby Dashlee. Who is no longer future.
