So two things were done-the iv and finding a local ob/gyn. Now I worried, would DH reinfect me after my iv if the oral antibiotics didn’t clear him up? I asked a new online friend, a mentor and literal gift from God, also a patient of Dr. Hilger’s that is now working with Dr. Toth. She is currently 13 weeks pregnant (one of the three that was unaccounted for during the call with Dr. Hilger’s). I had found her on Dr. Toth’s discussion board. She shared her own fears about being reinfected even though her husband had gotten the full treatment. They only had intercourse twice in 12 weeks of pregnancy. I realized my fear was legitimate, and emailed Dr. Toth right away.
That brings us to October 24th. Another day of being tested in my faith. The email from Dr. Toth (NY) was short and to the point:
"I can only imagine that you do have some active infection since you have never been properly treated. It's just very important that we get you starting on the IV once you are pregnant. If your husband has infection than so will you, especially with unprotected intercourse. During pregnancy I would recommend no intercourse if you do not use condoms." Dr. Toth
Wow. Could DH and I handle this test of our faith?! I emailed my fellow patient and she said that the first couple Dr. Hilger’s sent to Dr. Toth and had success had not had intercourse the entire pregnancy. I didn’t know that. But I figured, surely if DH got tested and treated and a clean bill of health, that we would be able to resume if my cultures came back safe too? So I asked, and I waited. The story of my life!
I gave the news to DH over personal email, starting with the forward from the doctor. That way he would read it, a little easier to swallow and less of a fight, and then he could digest it for awhile. Needless to say, after returning from my sis JB’s that night he was a bit grumpy. At first, it was like a flashback of when I told him no more premarital sex. He made a few digs and he was mad about other things when this was what was really bothering him. But, in the end, I knew he was going to be okay, and I looked upon him like I did back then, as a child in pain, not understanding, and struggling with all of the mixed emotions. I told him I wished he was a little boy that I could scoop in my arms and rock and whisper everything would be okay and brush his hair. This may sound silly to most of you, but DH and I don’t just view sex as sex. It is a renewal of our wedding vows. And neither of us knew how we could get through this on our own. I was constantly reminded by God that I wasn’t alone the first time and I wasn’t alone now. I reminded DH of the strength he had shown the first time, by responding to the grace given to him by the Holy Spirit.
The next day brought more trials of another kind. After an appointment with Dr. A where we discussed the iv, etc, I went downstairs to former ob/gyn's office. I was nervous to go in there again, but determined not to let it scare me. I wanted to face my fear and not let him control me. I thought it made sense to go in and address the office staff about an outrageous copying charge I received for transferring records. I was not informed there would be a charge, and the office manager didn’t think it was important enough to return my calls. I though it would be simpler and faster to come in in person since I was already there. Unfortunately. I waited over 30 minutes only to be told they were required to give the charge and I was handed a copy of the state's statute. I told them that wasn’t true-no other doctors I had worked with followed this (and I confirmed it with one more up stairs before I left). Later research revealed it was the maximum charge allowable by law that they could charge me for the copies. They were in compliance, however I knew I had been targeted. Clearly no charge for the copies was mentioned on the phone because they didn’t realize it was me. A friend in the same boat was not charged for her copies. Just me, because of how things ended with us. The office worker told me that it was because of the doctor’s personal request that I was being charged. She kept repeating this. She also told me that It was different than what others were charged because I left. I should have said “he left me” but I didn’t. Just like, during my long wait, when former ob/gyn appeared behind the front desk I should have stood up and confronted him for targeting me and betraying me, but I didn’t. I wanted the floor to swallow me up, but instead I turned my body toward the window and gazed out it until I was certain he was gone. I hated him for making me feel that way, but I am trying to focus that anger into forgiveness and pity for the man who clearly could stand a lesson in how to act when you don’t get your way. I am not quite there yet. But I know if I truly desire it, God will help me get there.
I am on the journey we are all called to-to accept God's will and perfect love. Whether I am white knuckling it with my eyes shut tight or standing up with my arms outstretched enjoying the ride, I try always to let God be the driver and not bail out the side when there are bumps (like IF!). On good days, I trust He won't run me into a tree. :)
12.18.2008
More preparation for pregnancy #3-hello ob/gyn #3
In preparing to get pregnant, I knew I would need a local ob/gyn for hcg, ultrasounds, and delivery. He would have to be Catholic and ProLife and he would have to be willing to listen to Dr. Hilger’s and Dr. Toth. I found this man in Dr. A. Unfortunately, he was just two floors above my old ob/gyn and I hated going into the building and the memories it stirred up for me. I was on the verge of tears before I even made it into the elevator for the consultation.
Dr. A was warm and comforting. He didn’t say “wow, I am fascinated by Dr. Toth’s research or anything of the sort. But he said he would try it, it couldn’t hurt, and he would help in any way he could. He would try to do the IV locally.
So, once I heard from Dr.Toth we were for sure doing the IV, I called Dr. A and asked him to please try to find out how to get an IV ordered locally and ambulatory. At the same time I booked a refundable flight to NY in case Dr. A couldn’t do it. Thank goodness we had a free Southwest ticket or we would have been looking at $600 for the late notice and, of course, we would need the IV right around Thanksgiving! And if we didn’t get pregnant, this month, then it would be right around Christmas! I learned from Dr. Toth also that I would have to be recultured in NY two months after the iv, so I could always rebook the flight for then.
Dr. A was warm and comforting. He didn’t say “wow, I am fascinated by Dr. Toth’s research or anything of the sort. But he said he would try it, it couldn’t hurt, and he would help in any way he could. He would try to do the IV locally.
So, once I heard from Dr.Toth we were for sure doing the IV, I called Dr. A and asked him to please try to find out how to get an IV ordered locally and ambulatory. At the same time I booked a refundable flight to NY in case Dr. A couldn’t do it. Thank goodness we had a free Southwest ticket or we would have been looking at $600 for the late notice and, of course, we would need the IV right around Thanksgiving! And if we didn’t get pregnant, this month, then it would be right around Christmas! I learned from Dr. Toth also that I would have to be recultured in NY two months after the iv, so I could always rebook the flight for then.
Dr. Toth on board my IF team
Okay, so we are convinced we have bacteria. We are taking the oral antibiotic. But will it be enough? I am scared to try unless we have a great reason to believe it will be enough. We scheduled a phone consult with Dr. Toth and again hovered over the speaker. Dr. Toth spends over an hour and a half pouring over the family history forms we worked hard to fill out. This same risk assessment is found in the back of Dr. Toth’s other book-Fertile v. Infertile. It includes cancer, heart disease and other things that people don’t currently typically associate with infertility. Forty four or higher means that you are at high risk. We scored a 77, nearly doubling that. Most of it was from my side. Dr. Toth definitely thought bacteria was at least one of the culprits to our miscarriage. He mistakingly thought that the antibiotic I was on currently was done in the past so he recommended we immediately come to NY for diagnosis and treatment. He is out of network and that meant a full $17,000, not considering room and board. But he was the only doctor doing this, so did we have a choice? This wasn’t in vitro, which was also expensive. This might be a one shot that would work for a whole family of children. Cheaper then adoption….worth more to us then a new car…and here is the real kicker. Where God really blesses us-we would be healthier ourselves (problems we had no idea were associated to bacteria were, so we would feel better and also have less risk of heart problems and cancer, prevalent in my family!) And our children would be healthier-a healthier full term birth, healthier in childhood, and they could be reproductively healthy so we could stop this awful cycle of infertility! And less risk our children would get cancer and heart disease! God is good! So Good!
I also realized that DH’s major drive to have biological children was helping him get through this-all the hormones, and the needles, and the medicine and all the money we had dreamed we would be spending in other ways. God must have known that desire could be used to get him through this, and I thanked God for it.
I realized that Dr. Toth might be confused the next day, so I sent an email to him (very reachable, very kind). He said he understood now and did agree that we had a good shot moving forward with trying to conceive on the oral antibiotic regime that Dr. Hilgers had prescribed. And if I didn’t get pregnant by the end of the year or if we miscarried, then we would come for full diagnosis and treatment at that time. I told him I didn’t want to try unless we knew that he would continue to be involved during the pregnancy, as I had now learned that we might still need oral or iv antibiotics. I wasn’t going to get pregnant in a healthy manner, just to have the bacteria come back and take my baby. Dr. Toth agreed to provide all necessary support and I felt comforted.
I still had peace, but I did try to control everything anyway. I was a bit worried that the antibiotics would lead to a later miscarriage. I knew that some folks got all the treatment and had one more miscarriage because their immune system hadn’t calmed down quite yet. But then they went on to have healthy babies. Over 60% of them did and Dr. Toth saw the worst of the worst that had already tried everything else (even though he kept trying to get people to come see him FIRST). I thought how we might have a miscarriage this time, and then get treatment and have another miscarriage. I usually am comforted by worst case scenarios, but the idea that the fifth pregnancy would work out just didn’t comfort me. I felt out of control with my emotions. This had truly taken over our lives. I couldn’t stop researching and talking about it. I wanted to help others, as many as possible, and I wanted to make every chance for this one to be the right one. Because I didn’t think I could take another one. That is how I felt in my darkest hours. My friend was experiencing her fourth at this time and already had her and her husband’s appt to get cultured by Dr. Toth. I didn’t feel strong.
But, again, knowledge is power. So I emailed Dr. Toth and asked him what the plan was for pregnancy if it occurred this cycle. It was time to try again (and we hadn’t rested since the miscarriage at all!). Dr. Toth said I would need a ten day IV of full therapeutic dose of Clindamyacin. He uses an ambulatory IV, but I could get it locally done if a doctor would be willing to consult with Dr. Toth. After my last ob/gyn experience, I was doubtful.
I also realized that DH’s major drive to have biological children was helping him get through this-all the hormones, and the needles, and the medicine and all the money we had dreamed we would be spending in other ways. God must have known that desire could be used to get him through this, and I thanked God for it.
I realized that Dr. Toth might be confused the next day, so I sent an email to him (very reachable, very kind). He said he understood now and did agree that we had a good shot moving forward with trying to conceive on the oral antibiotic regime that Dr. Hilgers had prescribed. And if I didn’t get pregnant by the end of the year or if we miscarried, then we would come for full diagnosis and treatment at that time. I told him I didn’t want to try unless we knew that he would continue to be involved during the pregnancy, as I had now learned that we might still need oral or iv antibiotics. I wasn’t going to get pregnant in a healthy manner, just to have the bacteria come back and take my baby. Dr. Toth agreed to provide all necessary support and I felt comforted.
I still had peace, but I did try to control everything anyway. I was a bit worried that the antibiotics would lead to a later miscarriage. I knew that some folks got all the treatment and had one more miscarriage because their immune system hadn’t calmed down quite yet. But then they went on to have healthy babies. Over 60% of them did and Dr. Toth saw the worst of the worst that had already tried everything else (even though he kept trying to get people to come see him FIRST). I thought how we might have a miscarriage this time, and then get treatment and have another miscarriage. I usually am comforted by worst case scenarios, but the idea that the fifth pregnancy would work out just didn’t comfort me. I felt out of control with my emotions. This had truly taken over our lives. I couldn’t stop researching and talking about it. I wanted to help others, as many as possible, and I wanted to make every chance for this one to be the right one. Because I didn’t think I could take another one. That is how I felt in my darkest hours. My friend was experiencing her fourth at this time and already had her and her husband’s appt to get cultured by Dr. Toth. I didn’t feel strong.
But, again, knowledge is power. So I emailed Dr. Toth and asked him what the plan was for pregnancy if it occurred this cycle. It was time to try again (and we hadn’t rested since the miscarriage at all!). Dr. Toth said I would need a ten day IV of full therapeutic dose of Clindamyacin. He uses an ambulatory IV, but I could get it locally done if a doctor would be willing to consult with Dr. Toth. After my last ob/gyn experience, I was doubtful.
Another piece to the puzzle
As much as we didn’t think the first miscarriage was a fluke, we had no choice but to try again. I wasn’t told of anything we could do different. I took comfort in the fact that my local ob/gyn had run a clotting panel on me. It was very thorough, and is usually reserved for those who had 3 miscarriages. How awful to make women wait that long for help, I thought! Not my doctor. He even coded it that I had had multiple miscarriages to get it all paid for, but that was when I had just had one. The clotting panel came back fine, so nothing changed between Michael and Gabby. Before we tried again, I knew we had to do something different. Something before we got pregnant, since you can only do so much during pregnancy (typically progesterone) to try and turn things around once they go south.
Before I even had actually lost Gabby (but we knew we would), I had a phone consultation scheduled with my doctor in Omaha. August 22nd-I clung to that date. The date I would get some answers. I put all my trust in this man as an instrument of God (both a faith filled man who has devoted his life to preserving life based on God’s call, also an internationally known researcher). I had the gammet of emotions on that call. DH and I were both present and hovering over the speaker phone.
Dr. Hilgers first said he was very sorry for our losses. And basically said it shouldn’t have been happening given all the up front testing and treatment. We were devastated-we can’t be stumping the man who has all the answers! He went on to say what he suspected the culprit to be. In April 2006, one of my many diagnosis, actually the last I received was that they had found a bacteria-ureaplasma urealycticum.
I remember thinking as we were driving out of Omaha and received the call, can’t you just let us leave this freakin’ town without following us out with one more diagnosis! You have to be kidding me. But it seemed simple enough at the time. Take two weeks of doxycycline and it should be fine. Easy enough. A one time treatment instead of monthly meds or shots. I can handle this. I asked if DH should also have the treatment and the nurse said it wasn’t typical, but she would check. She said the doctor agreed and we would both take the meds. I remember asking if we could retest, and she said not without another trip to Omaha and another endometrial biopsy (others don’t culture it out as long as necessary). Even then she said we might get a false negative. So take the meds and hope for the best. This antibiotic usually was enough. I learned at home doing research that this bacteria was a fancy name for an STD. I had contracted a(nother) STD. I already was treated for HPV in college. Now this…you would think I had slept with half the planet instead of three men, including my husband.
Now Dr. Hilgers was saying he thought the ureaplasma was back. That the antibiotic wasn’t enough. That, or it was another bacteria. Afterall, I had been cultured in april, after DH and I had stopped having sex. Before then we used condoms all but once to my recollection. It wasn’t until after we got married and resumed intercourse that we didn’t use condoms and I was exposed to anything DH may have had. The fact that I had a bacteria was evidenced by the two miscarriages and also by the fact that I continued to have tail end brown bleeding (brown bleeding at the end of my period). Before this was thought to mean low progesterone, but now it may indicate bacteria as well.
Well, at least we were getting somewhere. We had a hypothesis. We had hit the ground running with so much from day one that there wasn’t a lot of road left ahead of us. We were already working with a national leader in the field, so I knew even one option was at least something. The two options Dr. Hilger’s gave us were these 1) we could take more oral antibiotics. A different kind (this time Biaxin) and more of it. First 21 consecutive days, then on cycle day 1-10 (both DH and I) of each cycle until we conceived. Or, we could see Dr. Toth, a national expert in pathogens. His lab tests for every known pathogen and he is the only one who links new ones to infertility. Dr. Hilgers studied under him for 2 weeks and was setting his lab up similar to Dr. Toth, but it was going to take years and years before it was ready. Dr. Hilgers had sent four patients to Dr. Toth. One had just had a baby, and three the jury was still out on.
DH and I said yes to the oral antibiotics on the spot and said we would look into Dr. Toth. We left the call with a prescription and a plan, but I was doubtful $7.44 could answer our problems. I had little hope left. But maybe the antibiotics would buy us some time-we could see how the other girls’ were doing and if it did work, we would save so much money.
Knowledge is power, I believe that, so I went right to work. Dr. Toth had a website and I was able to read numerous research articles on his site, sign up for his patient discussion board, and find both of his full text books free on the site. I set to work reading. I also called the office and got every insurance code for every procedure and called Cigna to see what was covered. Needless to say that that summer I did not write my dissertation proposal as planned. I was busy continuing my other doctorate, the one infertility that would never be officially recognized.
Reading Dr. Toth’s book, the Fertility Solution, was the best thing I did. I saw myself all over the pages. I jotted notes about symptoms and began to fully realize that bacteria was my problem. We were “lucky” in that we had symptoms so we knew it would help-many don’t have symptoms and therefore don’t seek treatment.
I also learned quickly that there are two ways to get bacteria-from your sexual partners (horizontal) or from your parents (vertical transmission). I highly suspected I got it horizontally (from parents due to all the miscarriages in our family) and vertically (not just from DH, but from BF#2). I tied this back to God, even though Dr. Toth doesn't revolve his practice around his faith like Dr. Hilgers. I thought, if we all followed God’s plan to not have intercourse before marriage, this would never have happened to any of us. When we take things into our own hands and disobey God, then we tie his hands to help us. He gave us free will, and we choose to use it to go against His will, He doesn’t punish us. But rather, we literally tie his hands to help us. Then bad things befall us and we curse God. But if at any point, even way after the fact, we realize and turn toward God, he can make amazing things happen. God can “write straight with our crooked lines.” He can and He is more than willing if we just give him a little room to work. I felt DH and I did that when we turned even our sex life over to Him before we got married or even engaged. And we were still doing it daily, by practicing NFP, by not giving in to pressure for in vitro and other things against the Church. Most recently I demonstrated this by even giving God my tubes. I had already been convinced the goal was to live as God wants us to, to abide by His will. If He wants a child to come out of it, great. But regardless, He has wonderful things in store for us that we can’t even imagine. He has rewarded us for being faithful by bringing us to this diagnosis early, by leading us to a man determined to treat the cause and not the symptoms, and now by leading us to Dr. Toth.
I learned that even though Dr. Toth isn’t Catholic, he disagrees with in vitro, for the most part, for another reason. If the cause is bacteria, then not being able to get pregnant is preserving the upper reproductive tract to be bacteria free. By artificially inseminating someone, they bypass the bodies’ natural barrier and literally infect everything in the upper reproductive tract. It horrified me and I thanked God for His wisdom and for guiding the Church’s teaching. I knew all who followed it would be spared further pain.
I also learned another way that God was blessing DH and my faithfulness. If we did have a bacteria and got pregnant, the baby could have died much later during the pregnancy. Or the baby could have lived, but been born very premature with lots of health problems. Dr. Toth believes that bacteria is very very common in the reproductive tracts. Just think about all the unprotected sex! I thought in a long term faithful relationship I was safe without condoms! Especially if I was tested and so was my boyfriend. But the labs that test for common STDs do not test for all of the one’s Dr. Toth knows cause infertility. This is because his research is new and cutting edge. Also, Dr. Toth and Hilgers culture out the specimens much longer. As a result, some labs have said people don’t have Chlamydia (a known cause of infertility) and in actuality they do find it with Dr. Toth.
Besides these reasons, another reason Dr. Toth things bacteria is common is because of the number of miscarriage and premature babies. We find this all common place now, but bacteria is a lead cause of these things happening. The body was not meant to miscarry and Dr. Toth believes just one miscarriage should cause someone to seek immediate intervention. Dr. Toth associates in his research a link between bacteria and premature babies, ear infections, behavior problems, obsessive compulsive disorder, autism and many other things including cancer and heart disease. If you think of all of these things in relationship to bacteria, you do realize that it is very very common. For some it shows as miscarriage, others not being able to get pregnant at all, other secondary infertility (one baby fine and then can’t get pregnant again or miscarry). Others have children with problems they don’t realize are related to bacteria, so they don’t treat it and then their children go on to have problems conceiving. This gets worse with every generation, but research proving these generational problems are difficult. Dr. Toth does as much studies as he can with virgins he finds full of bacteria, and is able to trace it back to their mothers.
Before I even had actually lost Gabby (but we knew we would), I had a phone consultation scheduled with my doctor in Omaha. August 22nd-I clung to that date. The date I would get some answers. I put all my trust in this man as an instrument of God (both a faith filled man who has devoted his life to preserving life based on God’s call, also an internationally known researcher). I had the gammet of emotions on that call. DH and I were both present and hovering over the speaker phone.
Dr. Hilgers first said he was very sorry for our losses. And basically said it shouldn’t have been happening given all the up front testing and treatment. We were devastated-we can’t be stumping the man who has all the answers! He went on to say what he suspected the culprit to be. In April 2006, one of my many diagnosis, actually the last I received was that they had found a bacteria-ureaplasma urealycticum.
I remember thinking as we were driving out of Omaha and received the call, can’t you just let us leave this freakin’ town without following us out with one more diagnosis! You have to be kidding me. But it seemed simple enough at the time. Take two weeks of doxycycline and it should be fine. Easy enough. A one time treatment instead of monthly meds or shots. I can handle this. I asked if DH should also have the treatment and the nurse said it wasn’t typical, but she would check. She said the doctor agreed and we would both take the meds. I remember asking if we could retest, and she said not without another trip to Omaha and another endometrial biopsy (others don’t culture it out as long as necessary). Even then she said we might get a false negative. So take the meds and hope for the best. This antibiotic usually was enough. I learned at home doing research that this bacteria was a fancy name for an STD. I had contracted a(nother) STD. I already was treated for HPV in college. Now this…you would think I had slept with half the planet instead of three men, including my husband.
Now Dr. Hilgers was saying he thought the ureaplasma was back. That the antibiotic wasn’t enough. That, or it was another bacteria. Afterall, I had been cultured in april, after DH and I had stopped having sex. Before then we used condoms all but once to my recollection. It wasn’t until after we got married and resumed intercourse that we didn’t use condoms and I was exposed to anything DH may have had. The fact that I had a bacteria was evidenced by the two miscarriages and also by the fact that I continued to have tail end brown bleeding (brown bleeding at the end of my period). Before this was thought to mean low progesterone, but now it may indicate bacteria as well.
Well, at least we were getting somewhere. We had a hypothesis. We had hit the ground running with so much from day one that there wasn’t a lot of road left ahead of us. We were already working with a national leader in the field, so I knew even one option was at least something. The two options Dr. Hilger’s gave us were these 1) we could take more oral antibiotics. A different kind (this time Biaxin) and more of it. First 21 consecutive days, then on cycle day 1-10 (both DH and I) of each cycle until we conceived. Or, we could see Dr. Toth, a national expert in pathogens. His lab tests for every known pathogen and he is the only one who links new ones to infertility. Dr. Hilgers studied under him for 2 weeks and was setting his lab up similar to Dr. Toth, but it was going to take years and years before it was ready. Dr. Hilgers had sent four patients to Dr. Toth. One had just had a baby, and three the jury was still out on.
DH and I said yes to the oral antibiotics on the spot and said we would look into Dr. Toth. We left the call with a prescription and a plan, but I was doubtful $7.44 could answer our problems. I had little hope left. But maybe the antibiotics would buy us some time-we could see how the other girls’ were doing and if it did work, we would save so much money.
Knowledge is power, I believe that, so I went right to work. Dr. Toth had a website and I was able to read numerous research articles on his site, sign up for his patient discussion board, and find both of his full text books free on the site. I set to work reading. I also called the office and got every insurance code for every procedure and called Cigna to see what was covered. Needless to say that that summer I did not write my dissertation proposal as planned. I was busy continuing my other doctorate, the one infertility that would never be officially recognized.
Reading Dr. Toth’s book, the Fertility Solution, was the best thing I did. I saw myself all over the pages. I jotted notes about symptoms and began to fully realize that bacteria was my problem. We were “lucky” in that we had symptoms so we knew it would help-many don’t have symptoms and therefore don’t seek treatment.
I also learned quickly that there are two ways to get bacteria-from your sexual partners (horizontal) or from your parents (vertical transmission). I highly suspected I got it horizontally (from parents due to all the miscarriages in our family) and vertically (not just from DH, but from BF#2). I tied this back to God, even though Dr. Toth doesn't revolve his practice around his faith like Dr. Hilgers. I thought, if we all followed God’s plan to not have intercourse before marriage, this would never have happened to any of us. When we take things into our own hands and disobey God, then we tie his hands to help us. He gave us free will, and we choose to use it to go against His will, He doesn’t punish us. But rather, we literally tie his hands to help us. Then bad things befall us and we curse God. But if at any point, even way after the fact, we realize and turn toward God, he can make amazing things happen. God can “write straight with our crooked lines.” He can and He is more than willing if we just give him a little room to work. I felt DH and I did that when we turned even our sex life over to Him before we got married or even engaged. And we were still doing it daily, by practicing NFP, by not giving in to pressure for in vitro and other things against the Church. Most recently I demonstrated this by even giving God my tubes. I had already been convinced the goal was to live as God wants us to, to abide by His will. If He wants a child to come out of it, great. But regardless, He has wonderful things in store for us that we can’t even imagine. He has rewarded us for being faithful by bringing us to this diagnosis early, by leading us to a man determined to treat the cause and not the symptoms, and now by leading us to Dr. Toth.
I learned that even though Dr. Toth isn’t Catholic, he disagrees with in vitro, for the most part, for another reason. If the cause is bacteria, then not being able to get pregnant is preserving the upper reproductive tract to be bacteria free. By artificially inseminating someone, they bypass the bodies’ natural barrier and literally infect everything in the upper reproductive tract. It horrified me and I thanked God for His wisdom and for guiding the Church’s teaching. I knew all who followed it would be spared further pain.
I also learned another way that God was blessing DH and my faithfulness. If we did have a bacteria and got pregnant, the baby could have died much later during the pregnancy. Or the baby could have lived, but been born very premature with lots of health problems. Dr. Toth believes that bacteria is very very common in the reproductive tracts. Just think about all the unprotected sex! I thought in a long term faithful relationship I was safe without condoms! Especially if I was tested and so was my boyfriend. But the labs that test for common STDs do not test for all of the one’s Dr. Toth knows cause infertility. This is because his research is new and cutting edge. Also, Dr. Toth and Hilgers culture out the specimens much longer. As a result, some labs have said people don’t have Chlamydia (a known cause of infertility) and in actuality they do find it with Dr. Toth.
Besides these reasons, another reason Dr. Toth things bacteria is common is because of the number of miscarriage and premature babies. We find this all common place now, but bacteria is a lead cause of these things happening. The body was not meant to miscarry and Dr. Toth believes just one miscarriage should cause someone to seek immediate intervention. Dr. Toth associates in his research a link between bacteria and premature babies, ear infections, behavior problems, obsessive compulsive disorder, autism and many other things including cancer and heart disease. If you think of all of these things in relationship to bacteria, you do realize that it is very very common. For some it shows as miscarriage, others not being able to get pregnant at all, other secondary infertility (one baby fine and then can’t get pregnant again or miscarry). Others have children with problems they don’t realize are related to bacteria, so they don’t treat it and then their children go on to have problems conceiving. This gets worse with every generation, but research proving these generational problems are difficult. Dr. Toth does as much studies as he can with virgins he finds full of bacteria, and is able to trace it back to their mothers.
Gabby and Dr. Evil (local ob/gyn #2)
By time we were able to try again, I was feeling refreshed and very much ready to try. I had made up my incompletes. I had passed my oral defense comprehensive exams successfully. I had moved out of the old house and into the new. There was so much room for a family in this house! I tried to push out of my mind another friend with a big beautiful four bedroom house who tried for 4 years unsuccessfully to have children. Her and her husband are no longer trying and they do not plan to adopt. Big empty house-I hated the thought.
I had done everything I could to prepare for this baby. I had my teeth cleaned (turns out you can’t have x rays I think it was) ahead of time, I had my flu shot you can’t get during the first trimester, I can’t remember what else but I have learned you control all things controllable when so much is out of your hands. I now understand eating disorders, even though I never had one.
DH and I were refreshed and excited. We tried on June 20th, 2007 and felt good about our efforts! On Peak plus 16 we went to the lab. I didn’t have as many symptoms, but some so that was encouraging. This time it was back to the my hometown hospital I loved, the local hospital by our house was no longer was open on weekends. When we heard we had an hcg of 279 we were happy it was still a good number, but a little more reserved with our feelings than the first time. I felt bad for her, always thinking of this little one as female, and wanting her to have all the fresh joy she deserved, not tainted by our past.
I knew that my hcg could do really well for awhile and maybe we would still not have a successful pregnancy. For some reason, though, I was taken off guard when two days later it had only jumped to 321. Again a shred of hope-we were told that since that was done in a different lab (my local ob/gyn and not the hospital, just like last time) that could be why it didn’t double. I didn’t believe it, but tried to be hopeful. It moved to 353 four days later, and then 444 four days later. We knew it wasn’t viable after the 353 and we were told to stop taking progesterone, which made me sad. With Michael it took a long time to take away that support for him, but for Gabby (which I had been calling her after another archangel) it was already happening.
There were no early ultrasounds with Gabby like with Michael. There were no ups and downs. Only downs. I thought of Gabby as tiny and fragile and how she would be with God soon. You would think it would be easier this way, and in some ways it was. But in some ways, it was harder, and I blame that all on my local ob/gyn.
After I got the 444 level, I was told I should take a shot methotrexate by my local ob/gyn. That is a cancer drug, very strong with lots of side effects. It kills the baby on the spot. My sis JB was told she had to take it with her miscarriage that was ectopic (tubal pregnancy). They were afraid the baby would grow bigger in her tube and burst it, making her less able to have children. I asked ob/gyn if the baby was ectopic and he said that it might be. Either way it wasn’t viable. He said I could talk to my RE in Omaha, Dr. Hilger’s, if I wanted his opinion first. That was on July 9th, 2007.
I called Dr. Hilgers. He said that if I really wanted to take the shot, I could, but that it wasn’t necessary in his opinion. I didn’t want it unless I knew it was ectopic and would burst my tube. If that happened, I felt there would be no choice. I was told by my nurse in Omaha that, actually, that wasn’t how they viewed it there. This office was Catholic and I was told that even if the baby was ectopic, it was considered the moral thing to remove a piece of my tube during surgery. The shot wasn’t ever morally acceptable.
I struggled with this, and called on a friend more knowledgeable than I. Having them take a piece of my tube, my future fertility threatened, seemed like too much for God to ask of me. How could I say yes to that? But I had vowed to follow the Church, even when I didn’t understand, and I wanted to follow God’s will more than anything, even if it was that hard. I needed to know if this was God’s will, and if so, it would help me to understand why, though not necessary. I found out through my friend that the reasoning is this-if the baby dies as a result of saving the mother, then that is better than if the baby is directly murdered. The intent made all the difference in the world to God, and to me, and I vowed that if the baby was in my tube I would let them take a tube rather than give poison to my baby. I didn’t share this at the time with DH-I knew his faith wasn’t there yet and that would be a big test. I knew these were still “what if” scenarios, and if they became real then I would bring DH in on what I learned and that the Holy Spirit would give him the grace (as He had before we were married) to carry out what we were being asked to do.
I held strong with the local ob/gyn about no methotrexate, despite pressure and even being cornered in the lab by 5 medical staff who told me I needed to accept this pregnancy wasn't viable. How dare they?! I had accepted the inevitable, but it didn't mean I was going to be the cause! I told the ob/gyn he could monitor me closely with hcgs and ultrasounds to make sure the baby wasn’t in my tube, but no shot. I told him my RE supported me in this decision. He argued, even said I needed to get the hcg out of my system for health reasons (even if it wasn’t ectopic). This was absolutely not true. Hcg is not unsafe to have in your system-I had much higher numbers the first pregnancy and most women have numbers in the 100k! On Friday the 13th, at 6 weeks and 1 day, I had an ultrasound. The hcg came back 593 (still growing, but slow). The ultrasound did show a sac in the uterus, but it was too small to be officially confirmed, so local ob/gyn still said he was worried. I was not. I knew the sac was my baby and it wasn’t ectopic. It was sad to see that when they know your baby won’t make it, they don’t leave you with the ultrasound picture. I have no pictures of Gabby.
Five days later, I started to bleed. I decided to not have a D&C since the baby was so much tinier than the first. I knew there was little chance I would see anything. I also knew that I had actually gone through 99% of the tough part the first pregnancy (my doctor told me the baby was right there at the surface). I also knew that too many D&Cs can be unhealthy. I realized with how lucky we were getting pregnant so easily, that we might be in for more miscarriages, unfortunately.
Thursday, July 19th was also one of the worst days of my life. I got a call at 4pm with an hcg level-it has risen to 850. They feared the pregnancy was ectopic, getting larger, and that I needed another ultrasound immediately to confirm that wasn’t the case. And, the nurse told me, by the way (local ob/gyn) will no longer be seeing you for this pregnancy. You have chosen not to take the shot, against his wishes. He worried for my safety.
I knew it wasn’t about safety-what doctor worried about safety leaves a pregnant lady with a possible ectopic to find a new doctor when she needs an ultrasound asap?! It was about ego, and a difference in morals, that I was sure (btw. this ob/gyn claims to be Catholic and Pro Life and sends his children to Catholic school, but clearly we were not at all on the same page).
There was no time to spare and I was hysterical. It was almost 5:00 and I needed an ultrasound for tomorrow, Friday, or I would have to wait all weekend! First I called my RE in Omaha to let them know what was going on. Then I called my primary care physician. He promptly told me he would set up something for the next day at the local hospital.
I was glad I made my tubal decision before that ultrasound. Otherwise I would have felt like a cop out. I decided to follow God’s will before I knew it wouldn’t be necessary. We saw a sac in the uterus and were again confident that the pregnancy was not ectopic. An hcg on Monday revealed I was already losing the baby-from 850 to 602. There was no more worrying the baby was growing in my tube-the baby had passed away. Again I sobbed on the bathroom floor. By the next Monday, my hcg was 5. I would not have to have a D&C. That was July 30th.
I had done everything I could to prepare for this baby. I had my teeth cleaned (turns out you can’t have x rays I think it was) ahead of time, I had my flu shot you can’t get during the first trimester, I can’t remember what else but I have learned you control all things controllable when so much is out of your hands. I now understand eating disorders, even though I never had one.
DH and I were refreshed and excited. We tried on June 20th, 2007 and felt good about our efforts! On Peak plus 16 we went to the lab. I didn’t have as many symptoms, but some so that was encouraging. This time it was back to the my hometown hospital I loved, the local hospital by our house was no longer was open on weekends. When we heard we had an hcg of 279 we were happy it was still a good number, but a little more reserved with our feelings than the first time. I felt bad for her, always thinking of this little one as female, and wanting her to have all the fresh joy she deserved, not tainted by our past.
I knew that my hcg could do really well for awhile and maybe we would still not have a successful pregnancy. For some reason, though, I was taken off guard when two days later it had only jumped to 321. Again a shred of hope-we were told that since that was done in a different lab (my local ob/gyn and not the hospital, just like last time) that could be why it didn’t double. I didn’t believe it, but tried to be hopeful. It moved to 353 four days later, and then 444 four days later. We knew it wasn’t viable after the 353 and we were told to stop taking progesterone, which made me sad. With Michael it took a long time to take away that support for him, but for Gabby (which I had been calling her after another archangel) it was already happening.
There were no early ultrasounds with Gabby like with Michael. There were no ups and downs. Only downs. I thought of Gabby as tiny and fragile and how she would be with God soon. You would think it would be easier this way, and in some ways it was. But in some ways, it was harder, and I blame that all on my local ob/gyn.
After I got the 444 level, I was told I should take a shot methotrexate by my local ob/gyn. That is a cancer drug, very strong with lots of side effects. It kills the baby on the spot. My sis JB was told she had to take it with her miscarriage that was ectopic (tubal pregnancy). They were afraid the baby would grow bigger in her tube and burst it, making her less able to have children. I asked ob/gyn if the baby was ectopic and he said that it might be. Either way it wasn’t viable. He said I could talk to my RE in Omaha, Dr. Hilger’s, if I wanted his opinion first. That was on July 9th, 2007.
I called Dr. Hilgers. He said that if I really wanted to take the shot, I could, but that it wasn’t necessary in his opinion. I didn’t want it unless I knew it was ectopic and would burst my tube. If that happened, I felt there would be no choice. I was told by my nurse in Omaha that, actually, that wasn’t how they viewed it there. This office was Catholic and I was told that even if the baby was ectopic, it was considered the moral thing to remove a piece of my tube during surgery. The shot wasn’t ever morally acceptable.
I struggled with this, and called on a friend more knowledgeable than I. Having them take a piece of my tube, my future fertility threatened, seemed like too much for God to ask of me. How could I say yes to that? But I had vowed to follow the Church, even when I didn’t understand, and I wanted to follow God’s will more than anything, even if it was that hard. I needed to know if this was God’s will, and if so, it would help me to understand why, though not necessary. I found out through my friend that the reasoning is this-if the baby dies as a result of saving the mother, then that is better than if the baby is directly murdered. The intent made all the difference in the world to God, and to me, and I vowed that if the baby was in my tube I would let them take a tube rather than give poison to my baby. I didn’t share this at the time with DH-I knew his faith wasn’t there yet and that would be a big test. I knew these were still “what if” scenarios, and if they became real then I would bring DH in on what I learned and that the Holy Spirit would give him the grace (as He had before we were married) to carry out what we were being asked to do.
I held strong with the local ob/gyn about no methotrexate, despite pressure and even being cornered in the lab by 5 medical staff who told me I needed to accept this pregnancy wasn't viable. How dare they?! I had accepted the inevitable, but it didn't mean I was going to be the cause! I told the ob/gyn he could monitor me closely with hcgs and ultrasounds to make sure the baby wasn’t in my tube, but no shot. I told him my RE supported me in this decision. He argued, even said I needed to get the hcg out of my system for health reasons (even if it wasn’t ectopic). This was absolutely not true. Hcg is not unsafe to have in your system-I had much higher numbers the first pregnancy and most women have numbers in the 100k! On Friday the 13th, at 6 weeks and 1 day, I had an ultrasound. The hcg came back 593 (still growing, but slow). The ultrasound did show a sac in the uterus, but it was too small to be officially confirmed, so local ob/gyn still said he was worried. I was not. I knew the sac was my baby and it wasn’t ectopic. It was sad to see that when they know your baby won’t make it, they don’t leave you with the ultrasound picture. I have no pictures of Gabby.
Five days later, I started to bleed. I decided to not have a D&C since the baby was so much tinier than the first. I knew there was little chance I would see anything. I also knew that I had actually gone through 99% of the tough part the first pregnancy (my doctor told me the baby was right there at the surface). I also knew that too many D&Cs can be unhealthy. I realized with how lucky we were getting pregnant so easily, that we might be in for more miscarriages, unfortunately.
Thursday, July 19th was also one of the worst days of my life. I got a call at 4pm with an hcg level-it has risen to 850. They feared the pregnancy was ectopic, getting larger, and that I needed another ultrasound immediately to confirm that wasn’t the case. And, the nurse told me, by the way (local ob/gyn) will no longer be seeing you for this pregnancy. You have chosen not to take the shot, against his wishes. He worried for my safety.
I knew it wasn’t about safety-what doctor worried about safety leaves a pregnant lady with a possible ectopic to find a new doctor when she needs an ultrasound asap?! It was about ego, and a difference in morals, that I was sure (btw. this ob/gyn claims to be Catholic and Pro Life and sends his children to Catholic school, but clearly we were not at all on the same page).
There was no time to spare and I was hysterical. It was almost 5:00 and I needed an ultrasound for tomorrow, Friday, or I would have to wait all weekend! First I called my RE in Omaha to let them know what was going on. Then I called my primary care physician. He promptly told me he would set up something for the next day at the local hospital.
I was glad I made my tubal decision before that ultrasound. Otherwise I would have felt like a cop out. I decided to follow God’s will before I knew it wouldn’t be necessary. We saw a sac in the uterus and were again confident that the pregnancy was not ectopic. An hcg on Monday revealed I was already losing the baby-from 850 to 602. There was no more worrying the baby was growing in my tube-the baby had passed away. Again I sobbed on the bathroom floor. By the next Monday, my hcg was 5. I would not have to have a D&C. That was July 30th.
Taking Time Off
I allowed myself to feel bad and pampered myself a little. I knew that not everyone that suffered a miscarriage went through the horrendous nail biting drawn out experience that we had. I did several things to heal. I talked to girls online through an international discussion board on infertility sponsored by a hospital. I gathered up every nice word and condolence and card sent by everyone that had known. I gathered my ultrasound pictures and the painstakingly detailed account of the pregnancy and put it together into a binder that was covered in pictures from my wedding-pictures that represented love to me. DH and I attended a mass at our church for those who had lost a child.
My sisters and mom all had had miscarriages. I had a friend who went through one at the same time as me, so I talked to these people about it. Slowly I started living again-and thinking about school and work. Everyone had been so understanding that knew, but I had to get on with life. And so I started working on the incomplete I took in one of my classes. I had to write a 25 page paper. And in my mind, I had to finish the incomplete before I could start working on my written comprehensive exams. And there were 4 due, only one complete, and one almost complete. I was supposed to be doing my oral defense in May-it was already scheduled. So that spring semester I stayed busy, even though it was hard, with papers and comps. We also found a house we loved at the end of February. We bought it soon after and then had to get our house ready to go on the market. It was a crazy time.
It was also a time we didn’t think about having babies because we couldn’t. We were supposed to wait 2 cycles after my period returned before trying again. But as we looked ahead to that time, there became a problem. DH works crazy hours in January and February. He didn’t want a baby born during that time, when he couldn’t be there for me and the baby. It was true, but hard to swallow. I was incredulous-the idea that we would not try to have a baby because it would be inconvenient! I would take a baby anytime I could get a baby and I hated the idea of closing the door. I felt it was against doctor’s advice to try as soon as possible. I also had heard from the ladies on the board that many were more fertile after a miscarriage. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity! We came to a compromise I could live with-we would try in March (as soon as the two cycles would be over) and then wait another two cycles for DH. Then we would try nonstop.
We didn’t get pregnant in March. We found out at the monthly blood draw my estrogen had dropped very low. I was put 1 mg estrogen post ovulation for 9 days (add this to all my other meds!). We would test again and see if that was working and enough. It was working, but not enough. We went to 2 mg the following cycle and got a good level back that month. I loved how natural my doctor was, basing everything on my cycle and using as little medicine as necessary. I was so grateful that I didn’t have any side effects from the Clomid as many girls had. I was on a low dose and clearly it was working!
I was glad we took the break we did. It allowed me to see that we needed those two months to get my body ready. I realized it was not good to have that desperate fear of not trying. That showed lack of faith in God, lack of trust. For most of the time I had peace. My faith in God gave me that amazing peace, and I prayed every day to accept God’s will whatever that meant for us. The goal was to follow His will, not to have a child. If a child came of it, wonderful. So that is why we avoided in vitro etc. The Catholic church stands against it for a variety of reasons. I wasn’t even sure why or that I agreed, but I decided until I fully understood that I would follow it anyway. I thought I was giving up something (a cure), but I was willing to do it for God. But what really happened, but I got so much more than in vitro. I got a true diagnosis of what was wrong and real treatment, not just a cover up of symptoms. I was very blessed by following God’s will and I vowed to continue no matter what.
There were some hard times during the break.
It was during the spring semester that I started to feel awkward that some of my friends didn’t know. I felt that in some ways it was nice, like a break from it all. But I am a very open honest person and it felt like a lie not to tell people something that was so profoundly impacting my life. I felt like there was a wall between us. For example, I went out for New Year’s Eve with my friend K, just two days after my D&C. Yet she had no idea. It seemed very strange. But then, how was I to bring it up at a bar? Or so after the fact? Another example was I saw people getting pregnant that were going to be due right after I was. I saw them progress through their pregnancy. I was happy for them, I genuinely was, but there was separateness between us where they didn’t know and therefore shared things that I wanted to say “I know all about that! When I was pregnant…” But I didn’t know how. I began the very painful process of sharing what we had been through with friends. It took a long time-I did it one at a time. Not everyone knew that I wanted to tell when…it happened again.
My sisters and mom all had had miscarriages. I had a friend who went through one at the same time as me, so I talked to these people about it. Slowly I started living again-and thinking about school and work. Everyone had been so understanding that knew, but I had to get on with life. And so I started working on the incomplete I took in one of my classes. I had to write a 25 page paper. And in my mind, I had to finish the incomplete before I could start working on my written comprehensive exams. And there were 4 due, only one complete, and one almost complete. I was supposed to be doing my oral defense in May-it was already scheduled. So that spring semester I stayed busy, even though it was hard, with papers and comps. We also found a house we loved at the end of February. We bought it soon after and then had to get our house ready to go on the market. It was a crazy time.
It was also a time we didn’t think about having babies because we couldn’t. We were supposed to wait 2 cycles after my period returned before trying again. But as we looked ahead to that time, there became a problem. DH works crazy hours in January and February. He didn’t want a baby born during that time, when he couldn’t be there for me and the baby. It was true, but hard to swallow. I was incredulous-the idea that we would not try to have a baby because it would be inconvenient! I would take a baby anytime I could get a baby and I hated the idea of closing the door. I felt it was against doctor’s advice to try as soon as possible. I also had heard from the ladies on the board that many were more fertile after a miscarriage. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity! We came to a compromise I could live with-we would try in March (as soon as the two cycles would be over) and then wait another two cycles for DH. Then we would try nonstop.
We didn’t get pregnant in March. We found out at the monthly blood draw my estrogen had dropped very low. I was put 1 mg estrogen post ovulation for 9 days (add this to all my other meds!). We would test again and see if that was working and enough. It was working, but not enough. We went to 2 mg the following cycle and got a good level back that month. I loved how natural my doctor was, basing everything on my cycle and using as little medicine as necessary. I was so grateful that I didn’t have any side effects from the Clomid as many girls had. I was on a low dose and clearly it was working!
I was glad we took the break we did. It allowed me to see that we needed those two months to get my body ready. I realized it was not good to have that desperate fear of not trying. That showed lack of faith in God, lack of trust. For most of the time I had peace. My faith in God gave me that amazing peace, and I prayed every day to accept God’s will whatever that meant for us. The goal was to follow His will, not to have a child. If a child came of it, wonderful. So that is why we avoided in vitro etc. The Catholic church stands against it for a variety of reasons. I wasn’t even sure why or that I agreed, but I decided until I fully understood that I would follow it anyway. I thought I was giving up something (a cure), but I was willing to do it for God. But what really happened, but I got so much more than in vitro. I got a true diagnosis of what was wrong and real treatment, not just a cover up of symptoms. I was very blessed by following God’s will and I vowed to continue no matter what.
There were some hard times during the break.
It was during the spring semester that I started to feel awkward that some of my friends didn’t know. I felt that in some ways it was nice, like a break from it all. But I am a very open honest person and it felt like a lie not to tell people something that was so profoundly impacting my life. I felt like there was a wall between us. For example, I went out for New Year’s Eve with my friend K, just two days after my D&C. Yet she had no idea. It seemed very strange. But then, how was I to bring it up at a bar? Or so after the fact? Another example was I saw people getting pregnant that were going to be due right after I was. I saw them progress through their pregnancy. I was happy for them, I genuinely was, but there was separateness between us where they didn’t know and therefore shared things that I wanted to say “I know all about that! When I was pregnant…” But I didn’t know how. I began the very painful process of sharing what we had been through with friends. It took a long time-I did it one at a time. Not everyone knew that I wanted to tell when…it happened again.
Michael
Little did I know just how long (and painful) that road ahead would really be! Hcg can be taken every 48 hrs and it typically doubles in 48-72 hours. In those early days, I clung to hcg levels, the only way I would know if things were going right. My doctor (local ob/gyn) was sweet to get hcgs taken regularly and run them stat so I could get results back the same day. Tuesday, two days after we found out we were pregnant, I got back a level of 1544-tripled! We rested comfortably for the next 48 hr window. Then 3438 and again we were excited. I was able to get an ultrasound that day, unusually early, mostly because my doctor was so sweet. It showed a very small sac in the right place. At this point I was considered 5 weeks, 1 day even though I just found out the previous Sunday and it was Thursday!
I had switched from my hcg shots to progesterone shots. Poor DH thought he might get a break from needles, but no such luck. Before they were four times a month all in one week. Now they were twice a week (so spread out and twice as many) and the progesterone had to be given slowly because it was in sesame oil and my muscle needed to absorb the liquid. So a 2 cc shot should take over 5 minutes because the plunger had to be pushed down slowly. I got one the day after we found out we were pregnant- I was not going to lose this baby to something as elementary as low progesterone! We got the levels back from my P+7 draw and saw they were good levels and so we cut back the shot in half. I would continue to get blood draws, now every two weeks instead of once a month, and that would tell us how to adjust my progesterone shots. Dr. Hilger’s in Omaha monitored this and local ob/gyn monitored the hcg and did ultrasounds. I was proud of my team working together. I even had a primary care doctor in the loop that was local and trained under Dr. Hilger’s in case I needed him for anything.
The following Monday my hcg was drawn again. It was 5271. I was devastated. It was supposed to double in 48-72 hours. It has been four days and it didn’t double once. I was told not to worry, it slowed down as it got bigger (usually more in the 20k, not 5k). I was told as long as it increased, it was okay it didn’t double in time. So we were on pins and needles for 48 more hours until another draw came back. 5184 was the fateful number-it had done what the nurse said wasn’t okay-it dropped! But I was told then that it could drop a bit as the baby grows, but I should come in for an immediate sonogram. It was a different doctor (mine was out of town) and Dr. Su said that it was a perfectly healthy very early pregnancy. She said that possibly my dates were wrong and that the sac was growing. There was no yolk sac visible yet. At that time I was 6 weeks.
I didn’t take much comfort, but I tried to be calm. I knew my dates weren’t wrong, that was the one thing I was completely sure of thanks to CrMS. On Monday my progesterone was drawn and it was a terrible 13.2. But because of the holidays (around Thanksgiving) I wouldn’t get this news for another week. So on Thursday I went in for another sonogram and found that the sac had grown and there was a yolk sac for the first time. My doctor worried that there wasn’t a heart beat. He took an hcg-said it should be 60-80k by now, but it was a sad 7600. I didn’t get this until the following day due to bad weather. The doctor called it a blighted ovum, which I had recently learned from a friend’s experience that it is when the sac grows long after the baby stops developing. It can keep growing, giving the impression you are still pregnant, when you actually lost the baby awhile ago. My poor friend didn’t find out until she was 13 weeks because her doctor didn’t perform ultrasounds early. Again, I was grateful for my doctor and happy to know sooner rather than later if that was our fate. We were told they would do another ultrasound on Monday, just in case, but they would probably schedule me for a D&C to remove the sac, etc. I went straight home to bed, glad class was cancelled. As you can imagine, school was not the top priority anymore and I had trouble thinking about anything other than the next blood draw or ultrasound. Not to mention all the time I spend actually at the doctor’s office. That night DH came home early. We ordered pizza and watched movies and tv all night from our bed. We mourned the loss of our baby that wasn’t meant to be. But more surprises awaited us…
Of course, with my regular visits now everyone in the doctor’s office knew who I was. And everyone also knew I was losing the baby. I felt like I was in an exhibit and the whole world was looking at me, pitying me, and I felt sorry for myself. The ultrasound revealed the sac had grown, the yolk sac had grown, and we saw a 3.9mm baby (measuring head to rump). Best of all a heartbeat was visible-better late than never right?- and I felt there was a new lease on life! We had ourselves a miracle. The ultrasound tech literally ran out of the room to get the doctor and he came in. He checked my heartbeat to make sure there wasn’t a vein that was pulsing of mine getting accidentally picked up on, but he determined the rate of the heartbeat wasn’t the same as my own. My baby, there on the screen, with it’s very own heartbeat. I cried tears of joy and shared the news with DH. The doctor assumed my hcg shots had played with the numbers and that they were falsely elevated. My dates were wrong, they thought, and this baby was just fine. I ignored my thoughts about the date being correct, and how Dr. Hilger’s had already accounted for the hcg shots that I had stopped taking a full week before the first hcg. I wanted only to dwell in good thoughts. My baby was basically brought back from the dead in my eyes.
I believe that was the time I began calling the baby Michael with DH’s blessing. Michael is my dad’s middle name. But it was also the name of the archangel that is known for being a warrior. My baby was a fighter and that was great to know! I began talking to him in the shower, during the day, even one day in the mall parking lot as I sat in my car. I remember some high school kids came out and noticed me and joked that I was smoking pot via guesture. I didn’t care. I had a baby in my tummy and that baby had a heartbeat. I knew the risk of miscarriage went down to 5% with a heartbeat, but it was with a typical heartbeat. That first day we could see it but not measure it. So I remained on pins and needles waiting to hear an actual number and know we were out of the woods.
One thing I did around this time was let the priest know our situation. He was wonderful and gave me a blessing. He asked me if I knew who the patron saints of pregnant people were and I did not. We looked them up and found three, but only one women-St. Margaret of Antioch. My mother’s name! I loved that and was even more overjoyed that her feast day was my due date, July 20th, 2007. (Before even our first anniversary, hard to imagine since it felt like had been married forever-in a good way of course!)
Wednesday I returned to the doctor for another ultrasound. This one was with another lady and the machine was more up to date (I hated all these variable, I wanted to be able to compare across). The heartbeat measured 93. It was supposed to be over 100, so we couldn’t say that it was typical yet, but we were happy it was so close and continued our waiting game to measure it again.
That actually happened much sooner than we expected. I had some spotting that day and was rushed back to get another ultrasound-yes, two in one day! It was with the older machine, which was less sensitive, but they actually got a better reading-104! They said the baby was fine and that the blood was either from sex or the first ultrasound (all ultrasounds are vaginal this early).
I wasn’t able to get another ultrasound until Thursday, a week and one day later. I think they were starting to see me as in the clear. Unfortunately this one showed a devastating heart beat of 73. At this point it should have been 150-170s. I was told that this baby was not going to make it for sure (a second time) and I was sure we had run out of miracles. The worst part was that the baby was alive, yet dying. Still in me, yet there was nothing anyone could do. I confirmed this with my pro-life RE, Dr. Hilgers, in Omaha. If there was anything that could be done, he would have said. Nothing we could do but wait. Waiting was becoming something we hated.
I went back Monday and found out that the sac had grown a lot and the baby now measured 5.6mm, probably due to the fact we were still taking progesterone shots trying to give the baby every chance to fight. The heartbeat had only gone down to 67 and I resigned myself that this was going to be a slow and painful process. On Wednesday, I remember talking to Michael in the shower and telling him that I knew he was a fighter. But I also knew that it was time to let go, so if he was fighting for me alone, he could stop. I knew he was going to be with God and I had let go of hope that I would hold him in my arms someday. I sobbed.
That Thursday, Dec. 21st, I was 10 weeks and 1 day. I was shocked to hear the heartbeat was no more because I expected, at this point, for the pain to continue to be drug out, despite my heart to heart with the baby. But Michael had taken my words to heart. The Lord knew I couldn’t take a slower death. I was a little shaken, taken off guard at the quick drop and my prayer being answered. DH was with me, thank goodness. My ob/gyn's coworker was the one who was there; she gave us our options and we decided not to do a D&C the next day because we wouldn‘t be able to travel to DH's home town 3 hrs away for Christmas. But I did want to do one, I was so scared to see anything I would recognize come out with the bleeding-I had heard of people seeing babies, or sacs or placentas. I didn’t feel strong enough, so for me the D&C felt like it was the right thing. We schedule it for the 29th and tried to have a good Christmas and stay distracted. It was hard to believe we had just been to his hometown for Thanksgiving telling his family about the pregnancy. Now they mourned with us. I began bleeding on Christmas Eve. I found the blood very disturbing. This wasn’t my cycle. It was my baby’s blood. I had a reminder every time I went to the bathroom. I prayed for God’s strength.
The bleeding got heavier and darker and full of clots. I saw the black blood as full of sorrow. On Thursday, the day before my D&C, I was bleeding extremely heavy. I was deathly afraid I was miscarrying that day and that I would not make it to surgery the next day. I was afraid of what I would see. I was told if it was more than a pad an hour then I would have to go to the ER for hemorrhaging. I didn’t know how much I was bleeding because so much of it was pouring out when I sat on the toilet. I called the Dr. office several times for reassurance and they were great. They told me I didn’t need to come in. Laying on the bathroom floor, bleeding and crying alone, was the lowest point of that pregnancy and I sobbed my heart out.
Thank God my surgery was the next day. I never saw anything recognizable. The surgery was very easy, no pain, no nausea, very little blood and no cramping. I felt the D&C decision was the right one for me.
I had switched from my hcg shots to progesterone shots. Poor DH thought he might get a break from needles, but no such luck. Before they were four times a month all in one week. Now they were twice a week (so spread out and twice as many) and the progesterone had to be given slowly because it was in sesame oil and my muscle needed to absorb the liquid. So a 2 cc shot should take over 5 minutes because the plunger had to be pushed down slowly. I got one the day after we found out we were pregnant- I was not going to lose this baby to something as elementary as low progesterone! We got the levels back from my P+7 draw and saw they were good levels and so we cut back the shot in half. I would continue to get blood draws, now every two weeks instead of once a month, and that would tell us how to adjust my progesterone shots. Dr. Hilger’s in Omaha monitored this and local ob/gyn monitored the hcg and did ultrasounds. I was proud of my team working together. I even had a primary care doctor in the loop that was local and trained under Dr. Hilger’s in case I needed him for anything.
The following Monday my hcg was drawn again. It was 5271. I was devastated. It was supposed to double in 48-72 hours. It has been four days and it didn’t double once. I was told not to worry, it slowed down as it got bigger (usually more in the 20k, not 5k). I was told as long as it increased, it was okay it didn’t double in time. So we were on pins and needles for 48 more hours until another draw came back. 5184 was the fateful number-it had done what the nurse said wasn’t okay-it dropped! But I was told then that it could drop a bit as the baby grows, but I should come in for an immediate sonogram. It was a different doctor (mine was out of town) and Dr. Su said that it was a perfectly healthy very early pregnancy. She said that possibly my dates were wrong and that the sac was growing. There was no yolk sac visible yet. At that time I was 6 weeks.
I didn’t take much comfort, but I tried to be calm. I knew my dates weren’t wrong, that was the one thing I was completely sure of thanks to CrMS. On Monday my progesterone was drawn and it was a terrible 13.2. But because of the holidays (around Thanksgiving) I wouldn’t get this news for another week. So on Thursday I went in for another sonogram and found that the sac had grown and there was a yolk sac for the first time. My doctor worried that there wasn’t a heart beat. He took an hcg-said it should be 60-80k by now, but it was a sad 7600. I didn’t get this until the following day due to bad weather. The doctor called it a blighted ovum, which I had recently learned from a friend’s experience that it is when the sac grows long after the baby stops developing. It can keep growing, giving the impression you are still pregnant, when you actually lost the baby awhile ago. My poor friend didn’t find out until she was 13 weeks because her doctor didn’t perform ultrasounds early. Again, I was grateful for my doctor and happy to know sooner rather than later if that was our fate. We were told they would do another ultrasound on Monday, just in case, but they would probably schedule me for a D&C to remove the sac, etc. I went straight home to bed, glad class was cancelled. As you can imagine, school was not the top priority anymore and I had trouble thinking about anything other than the next blood draw or ultrasound. Not to mention all the time I spend actually at the doctor’s office. That night DH came home early. We ordered pizza and watched movies and tv all night from our bed. We mourned the loss of our baby that wasn’t meant to be. But more surprises awaited us…
Of course, with my regular visits now everyone in the doctor’s office knew who I was. And everyone also knew I was losing the baby. I felt like I was in an exhibit and the whole world was looking at me, pitying me, and I felt sorry for myself. The ultrasound revealed the sac had grown, the yolk sac had grown, and we saw a 3.9mm baby (measuring head to rump). Best of all a heartbeat was visible-better late than never right?- and I felt there was a new lease on life! We had ourselves a miracle. The ultrasound tech literally ran out of the room to get the doctor and he came in. He checked my heartbeat to make sure there wasn’t a vein that was pulsing of mine getting accidentally picked up on, but he determined the rate of the heartbeat wasn’t the same as my own. My baby, there on the screen, with it’s very own heartbeat. I cried tears of joy and shared the news with DH. The doctor assumed my hcg shots had played with the numbers and that they were falsely elevated. My dates were wrong, they thought, and this baby was just fine. I ignored my thoughts about the date being correct, and how Dr. Hilger’s had already accounted for the hcg shots that I had stopped taking a full week before the first hcg. I wanted only to dwell in good thoughts. My baby was basically brought back from the dead in my eyes.
I believe that was the time I began calling the baby Michael with DH’s blessing. Michael is my dad’s middle name. But it was also the name of the archangel that is known for being a warrior. My baby was a fighter and that was great to know! I began talking to him in the shower, during the day, even one day in the mall parking lot as I sat in my car. I remember some high school kids came out and noticed me and joked that I was smoking pot via guesture. I didn’t care. I had a baby in my tummy and that baby had a heartbeat. I knew the risk of miscarriage went down to 5% with a heartbeat, but it was with a typical heartbeat. That first day we could see it but not measure it. So I remained on pins and needles waiting to hear an actual number and know we were out of the woods.
One thing I did around this time was let the priest know our situation. He was wonderful and gave me a blessing. He asked me if I knew who the patron saints of pregnant people were and I did not. We looked them up and found three, but only one women-St. Margaret of Antioch. My mother’s name! I loved that and was even more overjoyed that her feast day was my due date, July 20th, 2007. (Before even our first anniversary, hard to imagine since it felt like had been married forever-in a good way of course!)
Wednesday I returned to the doctor for another ultrasound. This one was with another lady and the machine was more up to date (I hated all these variable, I wanted to be able to compare across). The heartbeat measured 93. It was supposed to be over 100, so we couldn’t say that it was typical yet, but we were happy it was so close and continued our waiting game to measure it again.
That actually happened much sooner than we expected. I had some spotting that day and was rushed back to get another ultrasound-yes, two in one day! It was with the older machine, which was less sensitive, but they actually got a better reading-104! They said the baby was fine and that the blood was either from sex or the first ultrasound (all ultrasounds are vaginal this early).
I wasn’t able to get another ultrasound until Thursday, a week and one day later. I think they were starting to see me as in the clear. Unfortunately this one showed a devastating heart beat of 73. At this point it should have been 150-170s. I was told that this baby was not going to make it for sure (a second time) and I was sure we had run out of miracles. The worst part was that the baby was alive, yet dying. Still in me, yet there was nothing anyone could do. I confirmed this with my pro-life RE, Dr. Hilgers, in Omaha. If there was anything that could be done, he would have said. Nothing we could do but wait. Waiting was becoming something we hated.
I went back Monday and found out that the sac had grown a lot and the baby now measured 5.6mm, probably due to the fact we were still taking progesterone shots trying to give the baby every chance to fight. The heartbeat had only gone down to 67 and I resigned myself that this was going to be a slow and painful process. On Wednesday, I remember talking to Michael in the shower and telling him that I knew he was a fighter. But I also knew that it was time to let go, so if he was fighting for me alone, he could stop. I knew he was going to be with God and I had let go of hope that I would hold him in my arms someday. I sobbed.
That Thursday, Dec. 21st, I was 10 weeks and 1 day. I was shocked to hear the heartbeat was no more because I expected, at this point, for the pain to continue to be drug out, despite my heart to heart with the baby. But Michael had taken my words to heart. The Lord knew I couldn’t take a slower death. I was a little shaken, taken off guard at the quick drop and my prayer being answered. DH was with me, thank goodness. My ob/gyn's coworker was the one who was there; she gave us our options and we decided not to do a D&C the next day because we wouldn‘t be able to travel to DH's home town 3 hrs away for Christmas. But I did want to do one, I was so scared to see anything I would recognize come out with the bleeding-I had heard of people seeing babies, or sacs or placentas. I didn’t feel strong enough, so for me the D&C felt like it was the right thing. We schedule it for the 29th and tried to have a good Christmas and stay distracted. It was hard to believe we had just been to his hometown for Thanksgiving telling his family about the pregnancy. Now they mourned with us. I began bleeding on Christmas Eve. I found the blood very disturbing. This wasn’t my cycle. It was my baby’s blood. I had a reminder every time I went to the bathroom. I prayed for God’s strength.
The bleeding got heavier and darker and full of clots. I saw the black blood as full of sorrow. On Thursday, the day before my D&C, I was bleeding extremely heavy. I was deathly afraid I was miscarrying that day and that I would not make it to surgery the next day. I was afraid of what I would see. I was told if it was more than a pad an hour then I would have to go to the ER for hemorrhaging. I didn’t know how much I was bleeding because so much of it was pouring out when I sat on the toilet. I called the Dr. office several times for reassurance and they were great. They told me I didn’t need to come in. Laying on the bathroom floor, bleeding and crying alone, was the lowest point of that pregnancy and I sobbed my heart out.
Thank God my surgery was the next day. I never saw anything recognizable. The surgery was very easy, no pain, no nausea, very little blood and no cramping. I felt the D&C decision was the right one for me.
...try try again.
I remember being sad about changing from from my hometown hospital where I had started everything (I had a hormone series in February, the same month I was engaged-so stressed about planning my wedding that my cycle lasted twice as long! Therefore our every other day, sometimes every day, blood draws allowed me to get to know so many women there. Some had endometriosis, some had pcos, and one had gone into early menopause. It seemed no one was healthy these day and it helped me not feel so alone). Since I had gotten married and moved into DH’s house, I began my monthly blood draws a different hospital instead. As we went in to the lab that Sunday for the Peak plus 16 blood draw (because I was on hcg shots, I could not test at home like a normal person. Hcg is the hormone the pregnancy tests test for when you pee, so I would have shown a false positive everytime. I had to wait for 16 days after ovulation and get a blood draw. In about an hour, I would know an exact number. If it was over 50, it was considered a true positive. I soon realized not testing at home was a probably a good thing-I know women who spend hundreds of dollars on tests, testing and retesting at the earliest possible moments. Even if it is positive, they keep testing to make sure it stay positive. These girls “live by the stick.”) So DH and I go to the lab that Sunday (thank goodness I didn’t have to wait till Monday-the hospital lab was 24/7). On the way in he said “all my hopes are about to be dashed.” I immediately thought he meant that his dreams of us spending a few years together vacationing would be replaced with a baby crying in the night and taking up our time and energy. I underestimated my loving husband and his lifelong burning desire to have a biological child. I went into that lab knowing that more than just my feelings and desires were at stake and a renewed commitment that I had married a wonderful man.
I was so nervous I could hardly stand it. I had to pee a hundred times a day lately, it seemed, and I was hoping this was a sign I was pregnant. In fact, while the lab tech (who knew all about our situation) went to check on the test, even after I heard a scream from the back, I went to the bathroom. I came out and DH said she was looking for us and we rushed in together, clinging to each other. She came out and said “what do you think it says?” And I said, I think I am either pregnant or crazy. I have to pee all the time, I am out of breath, I am tired, and I can even smell the tortillas in the grocery store even though they are all sealed up! (I recorded meticulously other symptoms to in what is referred to as the “two week wait.” There was higher temperatures when I woke up, sore breasts from the side, headaches, dizziness when I stood up fast, looked bloated, cramps, extra hungry and a running nose).
With all of these, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she said “Your hcg is 514! At that level, you are probably looking at twins!” Sis JB and I had carefully done the math before I had come that day. I wanted to know right away if I was pregnant but the number was too low for success. We determined it should be over 100, so 514 felt off the charts! The lab tech was the one who screamed when she saw our number, overjoyed for us knowing our struggles! Of course, we were ecstatic-tears of relief filled our eyes. We were scared, but we were happy. This was what we wanted. And even though we knew there was a long road ahead of us, it was exciting to know I could get pregnant at all. We vowed to tell only a few people-his folks, my folks, my sisters and BFF. After that, we would see how it goes.
I was so nervous I could hardly stand it. I had to pee a hundred times a day lately, it seemed, and I was hoping this was a sign I was pregnant. In fact, while the lab tech (who knew all about our situation) went to check on the test, even after I heard a scream from the back, I went to the bathroom. I came out and DH said she was looking for us and we rushed in together, clinging to each other. She came out and said “what do you think it says?” And I said, I think I am either pregnant or crazy. I have to pee all the time, I am out of breath, I am tired, and I can even smell the tortillas in the grocery store even though they are all sealed up! (I recorded meticulously other symptoms to in what is referred to as the “two week wait.” There was higher temperatures when I woke up, sore breasts from the side, headaches, dizziness when I stood up fast, looked bloated, cramps, extra hungry and a running nose).
With all of these, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she said “Your hcg is 514! At that level, you are probably looking at twins!” Sis JB and I had carefully done the math before I had come that day. I wanted to know right away if I was pregnant but the number was too low for success. We determined it should be over 100, so 514 felt off the charts! The lab tech was the one who screamed when she saw our number, overjoyed for us knowing our struggles! Of course, we were ecstatic-tears of relief filled our eyes. We were scared, but we were happy. This was what we wanted. And even though we knew there was a long road ahead of us, it was exciting to know I could get pregnant at all. We vowed to tell only a few people-his folks, my folks, my sisters and BFF. After that, we would see how it goes.
Tying the Knot and If at First You Don't Conceive...
Our wedding was beautiful, picture perfect in my mind. I was so happy to be marrying such a wonderful man. There was no cloud over us, as we were excited to give of ourselves fully and completely as God intended. This time we were doing it right! The readings came from Tobit, the prayer with Sarah, and Romans 12:1-2 about giving your body as a living sacrifice. Good friend said she almost stood up and shouted Amen! at that part because we were really doing it!
I remember some things I said in those early days. I was insightful enough to say “how do you prepare to have a baby this cycle and also know you might not ever have one?” I knew it was impossible to stay impartial that way. I vowed to both be excited to have a baby and also to make the most of our time being without children. Something else I said in those early days, “I am not going to let this take over our lives!” Little did I know the fears, the emotions, the learning and physical requirements of it all would very much make their way into every crevice of our lives. I was naïve, yet I am not complaining because, as you will see, we were so very fortunate. Already we knew we were blessed. We knew that we had more diagnosis than some get in a lifetime (I was pained for the women who had “undiagnosed fertility”). I knew we had hit the ground running when time was so precious. I knew God had rewarded our giving up premarital relations and giving everything over to Him without holding back. The direct result of this was giving up the pill, turning to charging for health reasons, getting a referral for the creator of the charting system (Dr. Hilger’s in Omaha) and coming away from my trip with a handful of diagnosis and another one of treatments-yes, things that could be done about what I had. It wasn't that we were special, quite the opposite; it was that God wants to do these things for everyone, but we had seen our error early and were now changing our ways and letting give us these precious gifts.
So we were hopeful and we were blessed. And yet I was more than a little jealous when friend said that after she got married, they weren’t going to try and they weren’t go to avoid and they would see what would happen. With pcos, endometriosis, low progesterone and estrogen post ovulation, complete lack of ovulation on my own, thyroid and clotting issues, DH and I would never be able to “just see what happens.” You see, because I don’t ovulate without a pill, I either take it or I don’t. And if I don’t do my post-ovulatory shots, I would doom a baby to be miscarried. Yes, a lot of responsibility, but we had a sound moral method to achieve or avoid and so we made our choice to try to achieve.
We tried for two cycles with no results. My sis JB was also trying during that time I believe and one day we had a funny conversation. She was asking me if I put my legs up on the wall afterwards. Of course not, I said. I refused to be caught up in silly wives tales. (and there are a lot of them that come with infertility). I was placing my hope in hard science, and of course faith, and only do treatments that were called for by my diagnoses. I figured this was “function-based” which is similar to what I do in my job (function-based interventions for children with behavior problems). I knew how much it helped in my job, to narrow things down, and I refused to be like so many women doing treatments of this and that without knowing if that was even their problem. I wasn’t judging, but I didn’t want to be desperate like that. With my faith came peace that many with IF don't have. I was grateful to God for the diagnosis we already had.
But even though I wasn’t going to engage in silly wives’ tales, one thing sis JB said stuck in my head; it was about waiting to pee. I had seminal fluid instructions to follow post intercourse as part of CrMS. I had learned these in my sessions. I had asked my fertility care provider at the last appt, did we still do them when we are trying to achieve? Yes, she said, they are about hygiene and avoiding observation confusion. And so each time we had intercourse, I promptly got up and urinated. Silly me. I asked sis JB to return my NFP book I left at her house when I lived there and looked up seminal fluid instructions. I learned that while you still do them within an hour after intercourse, you wait 30 minutes at least when you are trying to achieve. So, validating the wives’ tale with science, I was excited! There was a reason we weren’t getting pregnant. I could do something about it! And so next time, not only did I not urinate for 59 minutes (haha!) but I had my legs up on the wall for good measure.
Two Weeks in Omaha
In April 2006 I spent two weeks in Omaha doing all the testing recommended as well as some treatment including a laparoscopic surgery. The result was very informative- a comprehensive list of diagnoses (low progesterone, low estrogen, lutinized unruptured follicle syndrome, T3 conversion thyroid problem, factor V leiden clotting problem, endometriosis, polycystic ovaries and an infection that is known to lead to miscarriage and infertility), as well as a list of treatment options (Clomid, T3 compound, doxycycline, B6, estrace, hcg shots, prenatal vitamins, baby aspirin, and monthly amoxicillian). All of these treatments worked with my body, were specific to my problems and cycles, were morally acceptable, and the treatment was given at the lowest doses possible to be effective. The treatment were to be monitored for effectiveness, always guided by data (blood draws taken monthly). This sounds like it would be common sense, but it is virtually unheard of. In the field of infertility, it common for doctors to assume all women ovulate on day 14, for example; or that one needs to have 3 miscarriages before a reason for a cause is pursued since one or two miscarriages is considered “normal”, “common,” and “bad luck.” Now we were told that not only was my situation a serious one, but it was treatable. There was no way to know if the treatments would result in a successful pregancy or not, but we knew we were doing all we could. We were told to have the best chance possible, it was recommended we begin trying to conceive as soon as we got married. Of course, this wasn't in our original plan, but it was clearly God's plan. Future DH handled this news like a true pro, telling me it was a no brainer. I think I had a little more difficulty than he did, knowing that my PhD would likely not be completed on schedule. But we let it go and followed the advice. In fact, we asked if we could start the medications three cycles prior to our wedding date (we had a six month engagement) so that from day one we would be ready. After all, if we were going to try right away, we wanted to dive in head first! We got the go ahead.
The treatment recommendations were medication, but also shots that my DH started administering. Now if you knew my husband, you would know that he absolutely hates blood draws and shots. However, he is practical, and knew it didn't make sense for me to go to the doctor every time I needed a shot. So he learned how, and giving shots became his labor of love. It was actually pretty endearing. I would lay down on the bed face down and I could see him gearing up out of the corner of my eye. "One, two..." but then he would psych out and have to start again. I waited patiently to be stabbed, and he eventually got it done with a loud grunt. It wasn't painful, but it did cause a bit of a bruise. Small price to pay...The funniest part was that he was trained to ask me at a certain point if I was okay. Inevitably, I would be the one, face down on the bed, asking him (behind me) if he was okay! A total labor of love for both of us!
The treatment recommendations were medication, but also shots that my DH started administering. Now if you knew my husband, you would know that he absolutely hates blood draws and shots. However, he is practical, and knew it didn't make sense for me to go to the doctor every time I needed a shot. So he learned how, and giving shots became his labor of love. It was actually pretty endearing. I would lay down on the bed face down and I could see him gearing up out of the corner of my eye. "One, two..." but then he would psych out and have to start again. I waited patiently to be stabbed, and he eventually got it done with a loud grunt. It wasn't painful, but it did cause a bit of a bruise. Small price to pay...The funniest part was that he was trained to ask me at a certain point if I was okay. Inevitably, I would be the one, face down on the bed, asking him (behind me) if he was okay! A total labor of love for both of us!
Engaged!
In my mind, the next logical time would be Valentine’s day. I started reading into “clues” that appeared to indicate I was correct. For example, DH booked our Valentine’s reservation ridiculously early, which made me absolutely giddy to think about, and so I shared this with people very close to me (mom, sis JB, BFF). Also, my sister JB would be in town over that week, and I thought DH may have consulted her since she was very close to me (her husband had consulted me); she had also offered her services once to have the ring shipped to her to avoid taxes. Sis JB and I began having regular talks about dresses, dates, flowers, colors, etc. My mom and I also began to have these talks. Every once in awhile I got sheepish and would bring the conversation to a halt when I thought I was getting “too deep” in planning without an actual ring and we would laugh together about me being such a “girl!” DH and I would even have some of these conversations and then he would stop and laugh and say “who asked you to marry them?” and I would laugh too. I “discovered” (I truly was not snooping!) a business card for a very nice steak restaurant with a handwritten reservation time on the back and began asking myself why he would actually go into the restaurant to book the time? Was he scheming with the restaurant to get it done?! I shared this with those closest to me. I did not tell future DH I found the card. The next day future DH asked if I “had something to tell him?” “Was there something I knew?” I quickly confessed my guilt about the card and his next question was “who did you tell?” I immediately thought he couldn’t be this psychic; I thought again, he must be conspiring with BFF or sis JB whom I had told I found the card.
Well, I was sure that Valentine’s day was the day! I figured it was the Saturday before, since that is when we were doing dinner, but wasn’t positive it would be that day and not the actual day, which was a Tuesday. I made an appt to get my makeup done at a salon and told sis JB we should take the op to get our nails done-I had been seriously contemplating acrylic nails.
The Friday before the Saturday we would celebrate, future DH asked me what I wanted to do. We decided he would come out to my home town (15 min away) to see sis JB and her baby and then we would go to dinner down south. Future DH mistakenly went to my house instead of my mother’s to meet us. After some time there, he suggested I go to my house alone to change, which I had forgotten to do (I was still wearing my slippers). As I was driving the 2 min to my house I thought it might for sure be that day instead! After all, why were we going to two nice restaurants in a row (he had suggested another steak place!) and why was he so nonchalant about me forgetting to tell him the place to go? Normally he might be annoyed! Also, why was he there alone with my mom and sister? Were they plotting? And didn’t BFF cancel our plans for that night? Was she in on it? Needless to say, I threw on some makeup and got back over to mom’s house. Future DH did not ask me that night, and I had a good night regardless. There is always tomorrow right? I hadn’t completely sold myself on the Friday idea anyway-it was just a last minute whim!
So here comes Saturday. I have an appt at 12:30 to get my makeup done (I am a complete idiot when it comes to all things feminine). Future DH and I had decided I would spend the morning with him (working out, etc) then get my makeup done, etc and then we would meet again at my hometown church. Future DH was going to be gone Sunday (his alma mater played a big rivalry basketball away game) and needed to go to mass on Sat at 5 before dinner. Perfect I thought! Our first “date” was church. He is sooo thoughtful! My mom had asked us the night before, since we were getting all dolled up, to come by her house before we went out to get our pics taken. This was a bit of an inconvenience since DH lives about 15-20 min away and we would have to go back to his house in separate cars before our dinner reservation, but I didn’t mind. Of course, the last thing I was going to do was get in the way of their plans! I figured future DH had talked to mom and sis JB while I was away getting ready Friday at my house because mom asked me right after I returned to come by for the pics..
So, here it was Saturday morning at future DH’s house, and he made a comment about going to look at rings b/c there might be Valentine’s day sales. He dismissed the comment, saying it was a seller’s, not a buyer’s market, that day, but the thought stayed with me. Hadn’t he said last week that he had gone to look at rings on sale and hadn’t found anything? Hadn’t he asked me to remind him my preferences even though we looked last June when we were at his hometown at a store where his mom knew the gemologist? Why wasn’t he going with that store like we had planned? They had everything written down we decided on! I couldn’t remember the specifics, so I knew he wouldn’t and I got worried something would be “messed up” as he tried to find a “deal” somewhere else! I got very mad at myself in general, for putting so much stock into this being the day. I realized that I had missed other signs, and read into ones that probably weren’t there. I mean, could future DH really keep a secret this well? Could sis JB and my mom really give no clue? What if there was no clue to give? I realized I had been a fool, and it was better to know now and not ruin a perfectly good evening. So I sat on the steps inside his house and called to him in the office where he sat-“you haven’t bought a ring yet, have you honey?” “No,” he replied. “Okay,” I said. But then I added something rude like, “I guess I don’t need to get my hair done.” I pouted and got sulky and made a comment about how that is probably why mom wanted us to come by, and it probably wasn’t necessary now. Future DH said something back and I realized this was our first “fight” in forever. I had ruined the day and I had better not ruin a perfectly good evening as well. I teased him that if I couldn’t have a ring, could I at least get dessert?
I decided getting my makeup done would cheer me up, so I apologized to future DH (a few times) and went to my appt. I called sis JB on the way and told her no ring, and she consoled me saying all girls think there is a time and it isn’t. I enjoyed getting my makeup done and was in high spirits feeling all dolled up. I had decided not to get my nails done (that would be the ultimate let down) and busied myself with other things after my appt.
I went to church very early. I had asked future DH to come early as well and had given him directions since this was my parents’ church. I kept my cell phone on vibrate in case he had trouble and proceeded to call him twice before mass, since he wasn’t there, with no answer. He was six minutes late, and I was a little disappointed but didn’t dwell on it. He left and went to the bathroom during mass, and I thought nothing of it, having hung up my “reading into things” hat!
Future DH and I went through pics at my mom’s (and there was a lot-fireplace, piano, all the spots). I enjoyed it, even though there was no “deeper” meaning. We drove to DHs house to drop off a car, and he surprised me with a dozen beautiful pink and white roses. He very gently said that the roses and dinner were his gift. I thanked him for the beautiful roses and totally believed him. Again, he hadn’t given me the card I knew he had for me, and thought nothing of it. I had given up looking into things.
At the restaurant, they took my coat to the coat closet, but DH kept his b/c he was still cold. We were seated, and the waiter immediately came out and poured us a champagne toast. I thought this was a great perk to such a nice restaurant and asked DH what we should toast to. He brought a card out of his pocket and I was happy to read it, as DH's cards are always the best. As I read the card, which was his best yet, I got tears in my eyes it was so beautiful. I had to stop reading it twice to thank him and cool my emotions so I didn’t leave my mascara running down my face. The last line was underlined “for the rest of my life.” I don’t think DH had ever quite said those words before, and I was comforted that even though we weren’t getting engaged tonight, we would someday soon, and spend our lives together. That was the important thing.
DH asked if I had read the words. I wasn’t sure if he meant the underlined words or his personal note thanking me for bringing him closer to God, which was beautiful. I reread the card out loud, fearing I was disappointing him for not being sure about his inquiry. When I got to the last line, he said he truly meant it; I represented everything good in this life! He slid out of the booth and, then, I finally knew. I was so scared to misread signs, I had become so dense in the last few hours!
He came over to my side of the table and knelt down on one knee. He told me I was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He wanted to know if I would marry him? I teared up, but didn’t cry. He said I asked him “are you serious?” at least three times. He told me he wanted little me’s and him’s running around and I laughed, saying the little me’s would be hitting their shoulders on the door frame and falling down! I grabbed him off the floor and into my side of the booth and curled up next to him shaking and my head spinning. I told him I loved him (I think-my head was a mess). I was laughing and shaking. I realized I hadn’t said yes. I said yes, of course, and kissed him. I was holding his arm tight; I didn’t want to let him go. I had seen that there was a ring box open on the table, but I hadn’t really looked at it. He told me to put the ring on, and then I really looked at it. Wait, I said, this is much bigger than what we looked at?! The quality was unprecedented. He beamed-I had given him the reaction he had hoped for, and it was very genuine and a definite surprise. I asked him to put it on and he did (well, tried, I had to help). I started asking a million questions about when, where, and how! He truly had pulled one over on me!
It turns out, he didn’t know he was going to ask me when he made reservations early. He decided for sure three weeks ago. That isn’t why he had a handwritten reservation card; he’d just happened to eat here with work then with coworkers. All the comments about not getting the ring were to throw me off-which they did. He had not arranged anything with sis JB about sending the ring out of state. In fact, she didn’t know anything about the proposal until the last minute. Neither did my mom or BFF. The only one to know really in advance was his mom and his aunt and uncle in the nearby state (whom the ring was shipped to, to avoid sales tax). His mom had to keep such a secret b/c I saw her two weeks ago with all her family in his college town, there was an alumni bb game and 40th anniversary party for DH's aunt and uncle. She said it was very tough to keep the secret! I, of course, had no clue from her at all!
I found out that DH did not plan anything with my mom or sis JB at my parent’s house that Friday. He mentioned to them where we were going. They were as clueless and as much guessing as I was. However, that night he was planning to ask my dad’s permission, but he was not at the house. In fact, DH had also gone to my parents’ house before mass on Saturday to catch my dad, but again, dad was not there. Sis little sis KT answered the door and DH told her he was “never there.” She never gave me any clue when we were there taking pictures after church!
DH was late to church b/c he finally decided he needed to call my dad since he couldn’t get him in person. He told my dad he’d been dating me for over two years and his feelings had only grown stronger as time passed. He said he loved me, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He apologized for not doing this in person, and explained his previous attempts. My dad responded with a “HOLY SHIT!” which still makes me laugh! He proceeded to say all the right things-how he would be honored to have DH as a son in law and that he knew DH would make me very happy.
DH, not being familiar with my hometown, didn’t have directions from my parents to the church, so he took a wrong turn while on the phone with my dad, his given reason for being late. It made since he didn’t answer my calls or call me for directions, as that would have given it away. He had gone to the bathroom during church to “check on” the ring. Of course, he wouldn’t have given his coat at the coat check-it had the ring and card in it! He said he had planned to ask me after dinner, but with the champagne (which was only for us since they knew about the proposal) being poured first, he thought it was perfect timing. It was!
I enjoyed all of the story details as we ate (I could barely look at the menu to order and I never did let DH get back to his side of the booth!) DH had to remind to eat my huge delicious rib-eye and drink the Riesling (we had inadvertently ordered a bottle and there was no way he could drink it on his own and then drive us home). I asked him if he minded if I called and share the information with friends and family (my phone was in the car) and DH suggested we get through dinner and dessert on our own before heading out to my hometown (if we weren’t too tired) which he presumed I wouldn’t be! I shared the news with the waiter, a woman who was taking guest’s polaroids, and even the coat check lady!
We ate dinner and then walked over to my favorite dessert place for their infamous chocolate bag. And there was the final surprise that sent my tears over the edge. My family was waiting to share the moment with us! DH had thought to include them and my tears overflowed as I hugged them all and shared the ring with them! It turned out that DH had also asked my dad if they could join us at the dessert place at 9pm. I had been slowing us down! DH had realized as we took pics at my house that mom hadn’t talked to my father yet. As we went out the door, I went first and he snuck back to ask mom if she had talked to my dad. She had not, and he suggested she give him a call. That is the first she and sis JB knew and sis KT was finally free to share her part! We called sis JC in IN to share the news since she couldn’t be there and she shared in my tears. We enjoyed the wonderful dessert, the stories, the Polaroid, and I laughed more at myself and my crazy day!
The beginning of Physical Healing and Authentic Treatment
Well, obviously future DH didn't leave me (or I wouldn't be calling him future dear husband, lol). It wasn't easy, he was full of questions and I answered them as best I could. He was confused, hurting, struggling, and everything else you'd expect. But to his credit, he hung in there. With the help of the Holy Spirit, he survived and our relationship with God, and each other, was strengthened.
Because I knew I had endometriosis since I was 16, and that previously the pill had been used to treat this, I knew I needed something else. Because I had great faith filled married friends in my life using Natural Family Planning (NFP), I knew it was an option for health reasons. It took this conversion to realize that the pill as the only option was an opinion, not a fact. Not only that it came from doctors who do not respect life. For them, it is an easy way out, a band-aid that covered up symptoms. It is not an authentic treatment. Seeking authentic treatment for endometriosis brought me to NFP, specifically the Creighton Model (CrMS), which only involves observation.
I learned to chart on my own, without future DH. He was not against it, and was minimally supportive, but he did not really know his role his since we weren’t even engaged at the time. He went to the intro session with me, but not the follow ups. He understood why I was doing this, and didn’t disagree.
I used the charts to consult locally with a primary care physician trained in NFP (unfortunately there are no ob/gyns in our area). From him I got a surgery referral to Dr. Hilger’s of Omaha, the creator of the Creighton model. He was "the best of the best" to do the surgery, I was told. Through another act of God, while on the phone with the office scheduling the surgery, I became aware that he was also willing to review charts sent in the mail for a small fee and make recommendations, so I decided to do this as well. This was in Dec. 2005.
By the time the letter came back with recommendations, in Feb 2006, future DH has just proposed to me. We chose to fully pursue the testing that was recommended based off red flags Dr. Hilger’s found in my charting. Future DH became more actively involved in my treatment and decisions.
Because I knew I had endometriosis since I was 16, and that previously the pill had been used to treat this, I knew I needed something else. Because I had great faith filled married friends in my life using Natural Family Planning (NFP), I knew it was an option for health reasons. It took this conversion to realize that the pill as the only option was an opinion, not a fact. Not only that it came from doctors who do not respect life. For them, it is an easy way out, a band-aid that covered up symptoms. It is not an authentic treatment. Seeking authentic treatment for endometriosis brought me to NFP, specifically the Creighton Model (CrMS), which only involves observation.
I learned to chart on my own, without future DH. He was not against it, and was minimally supportive, but he did not really know his role his since we weren’t even engaged at the time. He went to the intro session with me, but not the follow ups. He understood why I was doing this, and didn’t disagree.
I used the charts to consult locally with a primary care physician trained in NFP (unfortunately there are no ob/gyns in our area). From him I got a surgery referral to Dr. Hilger’s of Omaha, the creator of the Creighton model. He was "the best of the best" to do the surgery, I was told. Through another act of God, while on the phone with the office scheduling the surgery, I became aware that he was also willing to review charts sent in the mail for a small fee and make recommendations, so I decided to do this as well. This was in Dec. 2005.
By the time the letter came back with recommendations, in Feb 2006, future DH has just proposed to me. We chose to fully pursue the testing that was recommended based off red flags Dr. Hilger’s found in my charting. Future DH became more actively involved in my treatment and decisions.
Coming Home to Face the Music
It wasn’t easy to follow through with, but I was convicted, and for the first time in my life I knew what people meant when they said they were at peace with something. It was hard, but I knew in my heart it was right. Don't get me wrong, my time in the airport preparing to come home to future DH and share with him my massive conversion was not easy. In fact, my flight was delayed and I had a whole four hours to stress over it. But, God is good and He provided. I knew future DH was not going to go with his heart at first, he needed his head on board. He would not be able to accept my conversion and new path based on the fact that I felt God had called me to this. He would want concrete answers as to what exactly was the church's teaching and why. Coming into the airport I couldn't explain that. But four hours later I could. This was because while at the conference I bought a book based on a recommendation. I really had no idea what I was buying, but it was a simple question and answer book by Christopher West called The Good News about Sex and Marriage. The book is on the teaching of Theology of the Body. I read the whole thing in that airport and it was exactly what I needed to know to come home to future DH and his questions. I knew that he would have a hard time anyway, and he did. But he had answers to his questions and I had the peace of mind knowing that what I was doing was what was best. I also knew that if future DH wasn't the one for me, sadly, then God would provide someone else that would be a fitting mate. I had trust. Future DH survived with the help of the Holy Spirit and taking things one day at a time. We were stronger as a couple because of it. That was the first blessing of many, that came from my saying “yes” to God. Really trusting Him, and really let His will guide my life. It wasn't easy, but it was a start. I was finally in the wheelbarrow.
Getting Hit with the God bat and Getting into the Wheelbarrow
Even though I was in transition, I did put my faith on the table from day one with future DH. He knew it was important to me, it was becoming more important to him, and that brought us together in our faith journey. I was a bit more involved with the young adult group than he was and attended the young adult night where folks talked about a conference they attended. There lives were transformed by it and they were on fire upon their return. I was amazed. I wanted that! and yet, I didn't. Because I was comfortable. Because I knew that if I changed too fast, future DH and I might have to deal with a divide. I was torn. I wanted to be balanced. I wanted to be faithful and a good Catholic. But I also wanted to fit in this world and not be too "weird." I decided to go to the conference the next year, but I literally prayed to God to not change me too much. Ha! This is one prayer God knew better than to answer as I would like.
I remember once hearing friends from faith group share their testimony. I didn’t even know what a testimony was! I learned it was sharing that turning point in your life where you really came to God. Well, I thought, maybe everyone who is faithful doesn’t have a testimony. Maybe that is just how it always was for them. Like me, I'd always had faith. But when the young adult director asked me what my relationship was with God, I didn’t even realize I was supposed to or could have one!!! I was just so far off the mark in my life.
But God has a story in mind for me too; one that he was still writing in my life. That conference was really another huge turning point for me.
First of all, I felt like a fraud taking my birth control every day there. I kept trying to tell myself I was balanced again. That was my excuse. But then the keynote directly addressed this. The speaker spoke of being on a tightrope, and if we had one foot on and one foot off what were we-a goner! He kept talking about God directing our lives in a metaphor, that God was equipped and had proven time and time again that he could push us in a wheelbarrow across a tightrope over the Niagra falls. But if we've seen Him do it time and time again successfully, why were we not willing to get in? I thought to myself, I am in the wheelbarrow. I do let God direct my life. Ha! The rest of the conference God whispered in my ear, "is this you letting me push you in the wheelbarrow?" "How about now? Are you in the wheelbarrow?" I was clearly not letting God direct my life. I wasn't trusting Him even though I knew He was capable. Why not? For me, I knew that meant that I needed to follow God's will, not mine. I needed to follow the church's teaching on premarital sex and contraception. But this was so hard. I was already "in." Could I change?! Of course, if I wanted to. Did I want to? I wasn't so sure. But then I realized if I didn't follow God's will, I was telling Him to get out of that area of my life. Did I really want to do that? Was I prepared for those consequences?! I would be tying God's hands to bless my future marriage. I felt for the first time in my life that God was asking me to do something. The choice was in front of me. I could say no, but I couldn't deny being asked. Either way, the consequences would be drastic. It was the true test of trust. I prayed and pondered this throughout the weekend. I wanted to trust Him. To get in the wheelbarrow. Could I? Not without His help. The final straw was when I went up for communion on the last day of the conference. I was behind a guy whose back of his t-shirt read the verse from Revelation 3:16-“So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.” Needless to say, my choice was made. I was nervous about what was ahead, but I knew it was the right choice and that God was with me. So, with God's help, I was finally in the wheelbarrow.
I remember once hearing friends from faith group share their testimony. I didn’t even know what a testimony was! I learned it was sharing that turning point in your life where you really came to God. Well, I thought, maybe everyone who is faithful doesn’t have a testimony. Maybe that is just how it always was for them. Like me, I'd always had faith. But when the young adult director asked me what my relationship was with God, I didn’t even realize I was supposed to or could have one!!! I was just so far off the mark in my life.
But God has a story in mind for me too; one that he was still writing in my life. That conference was really another huge turning point for me.
First of all, I felt like a fraud taking my birth control every day there. I kept trying to tell myself I was balanced again. That was my excuse. But then the keynote directly addressed this. The speaker spoke of being on a tightrope, and if we had one foot on and one foot off what were we-a goner! He kept talking about God directing our lives in a metaphor, that God was equipped and had proven time and time again that he could push us in a wheelbarrow across a tightrope over the Niagra falls. But if we've seen Him do it time and time again successfully, why were we not willing to get in? I thought to myself, I am in the wheelbarrow. I do let God direct my life. Ha! The rest of the conference God whispered in my ear, "is this you letting me push you in the wheelbarrow?" "How about now? Are you in the wheelbarrow?" I was clearly not letting God direct my life. I wasn't trusting Him even though I knew He was capable. Why not? For me, I knew that meant that I needed to follow God's will, not mine. I needed to follow the church's teaching on premarital sex and contraception. But this was so hard. I was already "in." Could I change?! Of course, if I wanted to. Did I want to? I wasn't so sure. But then I realized if I didn't follow God's will, I was telling Him to get out of that area of my life. Did I really want to do that? Was I prepared for those consequences?! I would be tying God's hands to bless my future marriage. I felt for the first time in my life that God was asking me to do something. The choice was in front of me. I could say no, but I couldn't deny being asked. Either way, the consequences would be drastic. It was the true test of trust. I prayed and pondered this throughout the weekend. I wanted to trust Him. To get in the wheelbarrow. Could I? Not without His help. The final straw was when I went up for communion on the last day of the conference. I was behind a guy whose back of his t-shirt read the verse from Revelation 3:16-“So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.” Needless to say, my choice was made. I was nervous about what was ahead, but I knew it was the right choice and that God was with me. So, with God's help, I was finally in the wheelbarrow.
Meeting My Future Husband
It was God's timing that I met my future husband and therefore it was the perfect timing. I was on my path to being a better Catholic, but of course I still had a lot to learn. I was still drinking and going out, but I knew the right kind of man I was looking for, and I tried to behave myself in a Christian manner. I was learning more about my faith and why I believe what I believed. I was learning to better articulate and surrounding myself by good influences, as well as trying to be one. It was one night out with these church friends that I met my husband. I was dancing and having a good time, but not drinking too much. I met him one time out and enjoyed him, but didn't give him my number when he asked. I told him maybe I would see him there again. I didn't think I would, I hardly went there, but I had my doubts that the man of my dreams would come from a bar.
The next time I went to the same bar, I went for a bachelorette party. DH was there with a bachelor party. He approached me again. We danced and talked. I tried to turn him off, talking about a church retreat I went on, playing softball with church, and generally all things church. He told me that he was also Catholic. He wasn't turned off by these things. In fact, he had an interesting proposition. If I didn't want to give him my number, perhaps I would let him meet me at church. My interest was peaked! A funny memory is when he asked when I went. Six o'clock, I said. Six in the morning, he replied incredulously! No, 6pm I said laughing. I think if it was 6 am, the relationship may have been over before it began! :)
He met me at church the next day, dressed up handsomely. He was greeted by a whole pew of young adults I sat at mass with, like 20 protective siblings. It was great! Overwhelming for him, I am sure, but he handled it like a champ! He shook hands when they said to introduce yourself to the folks around you. I heard him say his name was something other than he had told me previously. The rest of mass I was left wondering why he said that when he told me his name was something else. It turns out that was a college joke, a name he used to give that he had resurrected for in honor of being out with the same guys. I learned not to be offended, that it didn't mean he was trying to get rid of me, even though it still sounds that way! We laugh about it now-He even had the spelling of the last name down pat. Good grief!
After that we went on a weekend date to a comedy club, dinner, and dancing. We had so much fun. We liked the same rap music and we enjoyed each other. I asked him once what he thought of me on that first date, singing Jarule with him. He said, "I thought this was one cool church girl!" LOL! You see, I was still in a bit of transition, but then so was he. It was perfect timing. From then on we took our faith journey together.
But, recall I was in the process of transforming (of course, still am), and so was he, so we did end up having premarital sex. So that was mistake number three, not him, but having sex before marriage of course.
The next time I went to the same bar, I went for a bachelorette party. DH was there with a bachelor party. He approached me again. We danced and talked. I tried to turn him off, talking about a church retreat I went on, playing softball with church, and generally all things church. He told me that he was also Catholic. He wasn't turned off by these things. In fact, he had an interesting proposition. If I didn't want to give him my number, perhaps I would let him meet me at church. My interest was peaked! A funny memory is when he asked when I went. Six o'clock, I said. Six in the morning, he replied incredulously! No, 6pm I said laughing. I think if it was 6 am, the relationship may have been over before it began! :)
He met me at church the next day, dressed up handsomely. He was greeted by a whole pew of young adults I sat at mass with, like 20 protective siblings. It was great! Overwhelming for him, I am sure, but he handled it like a champ! He shook hands when they said to introduce yourself to the folks around you. I heard him say his name was something other than he had told me previously. The rest of mass I was left wondering why he said that when he told me his name was something else. It turns out that was a college joke, a name he used to give that he had resurrected for in honor of being out with the same guys. I learned not to be offended, that it didn't mean he was trying to get rid of me, even though it still sounds that way! We laugh about it now-He even had the spelling of the last name down pat. Good grief!
After that we went on a weekend date to a comedy club, dinner, and dancing. We had so much fun. We liked the same rap music and we enjoyed each other. I asked him once what he thought of me on that first date, singing Jarule with him. He said, "I thought this was one cool church girl!" LOL! You see, I was still in a bit of transition, but then so was he. It was perfect timing. From then on we took our faith journey together.
But, recall I was in the process of transforming (of course, still am), and so was he, so we did end up having premarital sex. So that was mistake number three, not him, but having sex before marriage of course.
Finding a Young Adult Group
Good grief. It has been a long time. But I have an amazing story to tell, because God wrote it (aren't those the best kind!). I have been praying about how to get my story out there to help others; I feel God has worked through me and it is the least I can do. I really want to write a book, to speak at events locally and even nationally, and to start, I want to get it all down. So once I do that, then I can start writing in the present. But for now, I have to go back. So forgive me while I play catchup to the amazing things that have been going on in my life. I will do my best to not let my inadequacies in telling it take away from the story...
When I said three mistakes, I meant I have slept with three people prior to marriage and that premarital sex was a mistake, i.e. not how God designed it. In doing so, we are tying His hands so to speak, by not letting Him in that area of our lives to bless it. God is a gentlemen, He created free will and will not impose Himself on people or situations. Too bad for us in some respects, as I tend to muck things up when I take the reins!
Anyway, I touched on the topic of the first guy that I thought I would marry and therefore slept with him. The problem with thinking you will marry someone and then sleeping wtih them first is you don't really know if you will marry them until it happens! And so it didn't. And it was a good thing too. It went on way to long, the relationship, because I acted like I was married to him. I was bound and determined to make things work. Maybe I just didn't want to be wrong. Or maybe it was the hormones of attachment that come from sleeping with someone. I read a really really great book about courtship where they say you should date with your eyes wide open, and be married with your eyes shut tight (to people's faults!) Well I dated with them shut tight. Not good! A friend's therapist gave her good advice. Why don't you find someone who has done all the good and responsible things you have, so you can be equal partners, trust each other, and enjoy your accomplishments rather than being with someone who has made so many errors and still is that you are mothering them instead of being a teammate, and then your accomplishments are cancelled out by their mistakes? Food for thought.
Well, so once I slept with guy number one, it was "easier" to sleep with guy number two. Sad thing-I didn't even think I was going to marry him. I enjoyed him and vice versa, but we knew it wasn't enough to spend our lives together. We enjoyed the here and now, and I even tried to tell myself maybe the good times were enough, but they weren't.
So onto number three. But first, while I was broken up with number two I had a lot of extra time on my hands. Funny how that works out. And I was tired of how things were going in my life. I needed a change. I was ready for more. I always thought of myself as religious. In actuality, I went to church on Sunday, taught religion for ten years, and knew and believe the basics in the Catholic faith I was raised in. But there was so much missing. I didn't know my faith as an adult, I didn't choose my faith as an adult, I didn't know others faiths, and I didn't go beyond the bare minimum of my faith.
My mom recommended I go to the local church instead of coming to my home town for church on Sundays. God saw an opening so He really took advantage. :) It turns out the church is known for a fantastic young adult community. And my mom knew someone who was active in it-a fellow social worker with a really dynamic personality. I joined to meet friends and to potentially meet a more faith filled man. I got so much more. Both social relationships, role models, and activities that lead to a deeper understanding of my faith. I raised the bar in what I knew and what I expected in a future mate. God, through this group, completely changd my life path! It wasn't easy. At first, not realizing it, I tried to bring those faithfilled people down to where I was at instead of letting them change me. I sought out bad examples within the group, or encouraged people to go out drinking with me (dancing on bars...) etc. I even giggled at getting wasted and corrupting "church folk." That was the sinful side coming out. I really was missing the point and watering down what the group had to offer. I got out of it what I put into it. But God was still working through it all and He placed one instance in front of me that really was a turning point.
I went out drinking with two church friends. One invited three men back to her place. One friend was throwing up, the other was hooking up. And so I was "entertaining" the other two. No, not that way! Just being dumb and drunk and dancing and singing and being stupid. One guy was drunk, the other was not. And was very kind, checking in on the sick girl and clearly different. Eventually that night I learned his full name and realized that he was a faith filled Catholic that my family had knew for years. In fact, they even wanted me to end up with him. I thought of him jokingly as my plan B and a nice guy that I could end up with if I wanted. Ha! I realized he would never want to be with someone like me. And if I wanted to end up with a good Catholic man as my husband, I had to be someone that person would want to be with. I certainly wasn't that now. But I kept learning my faith, trying to put it in action, and was on my path to being a better Catholic for more than just that reason.
When I said three mistakes, I meant I have slept with three people prior to marriage and that premarital sex was a mistake, i.e. not how God designed it. In doing so, we are tying His hands so to speak, by not letting Him in that area of our lives to bless it. God is a gentlemen, He created free will and will not impose Himself on people or situations. Too bad for us in some respects, as I tend to muck things up when I take the reins!
Anyway, I touched on the topic of the first guy that I thought I would marry and therefore slept with him. The problem with thinking you will marry someone and then sleeping wtih them first is you don't really know if you will marry them until it happens! And so it didn't. And it was a good thing too. It went on way to long, the relationship, because I acted like I was married to him. I was bound and determined to make things work. Maybe I just didn't want to be wrong. Or maybe it was the hormones of attachment that come from sleeping with someone. I read a really really great book about courtship where they say you should date with your eyes wide open, and be married with your eyes shut tight (to people's faults!) Well I dated with them shut tight. Not good! A friend's therapist gave her good advice. Why don't you find someone who has done all the good and responsible things you have, so you can be equal partners, trust each other, and enjoy your accomplishments rather than being with someone who has made so many errors and still is that you are mothering them instead of being a teammate, and then your accomplishments are cancelled out by their mistakes? Food for thought.
Well, so once I slept with guy number one, it was "easier" to sleep with guy number two. Sad thing-I didn't even think I was going to marry him. I enjoyed him and vice versa, but we knew it wasn't enough to spend our lives together. We enjoyed the here and now, and I even tried to tell myself maybe the good times were enough, but they weren't.
So onto number three. But first, while I was broken up with number two I had a lot of extra time on my hands. Funny how that works out. And I was tired of how things were going in my life. I needed a change. I was ready for more. I always thought of myself as religious. In actuality, I went to church on Sunday, taught religion for ten years, and knew and believe the basics in the Catholic faith I was raised in. But there was so much missing. I didn't know my faith as an adult, I didn't choose my faith as an adult, I didn't know others faiths, and I didn't go beyond the bare minimum of my faith.
My mom recommended I go to the local church instead of coming to my home town for church on Sundays. God saw an opening so He really took advantage. :) It turns out the church is known for a fantastic young adult community. And my mom knew someone who was active in it-a fellow social worker with a really dynamic personality. I joined to meet friends and to potentially meet a more faith filled man. I got so much more. Both social relationships, role models, and activities that lead to a deeper understanding of my faith. I raised the bar in what I knew and what I expected in a future mate. God, through this group, completely changd my life path! It wasn't easy. At first, not realizing it, I tried to bring those faithfilled people down to where I was at instead of letting them change me. I sought out bad examples within the group, or encouraged people to go out drinking with me (dancing on bars...) etc. I even giggled at getting wasted and corrupting "church folk." That was the sinful side coming out. I really was missing the point and watering down what the group had to offer. I got out of it what I put into it. But God was still working through it all and He placed one instance in front of me that really was a turning point.
I went out drinking with two church friends. One invited three men back to her place. One friend was throwing up, the other was hooking up. And so I was "entertaining" the other two. No, not that way! Just being dumb and drunk and dancing and singing and being stupid. One guy was drunk, the other was not. And was very kind, checking in on the sick girl and clearly different. Eventually that night I learned his full name and realized that he was a faith filled Catholic that my family had knew for years. In fact, they even wanted me to end up with him. I thought of him jokingly as my plan B and a nice guy that I could end up with if I wanted. Ha! I realized he would never want to be with someone like me. And if I wanted to end up with a good Catholic man as my husband, I had to be someone that person would want to be with. I certainly wasn't that now. But I kept learning my faith, trying to put it in action, and was on my path to being a better Catholic for more than just that reason.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)