Remembering

September 12, 2016

"There are three heartbeats."  I stared at the screen.  Darren and I had been through 7 failed IUIS, an early miscarriage after our first IVF, and a failed FET.  Despite his and the doctor's hesitations, I insisted on transferring 3.  I had had enough.  My body had had enough.  All I wanted was a child and the previous 4 embryos that made it through on the last two IVFs resulted in nothing.

Three heartbeats.  I knew instantly it was 2 boys and a girl.  Darren was white.  I was pumped.  Although I had a clue that multiples could come early, I didn't realize what that meant.  I didn't even know why "hitting 24 weeks" was a thing or a big deal.  I was just happy that after the years of struggle, the years of pain, injections, and tears that I would have a complete insta-fam within 9 months. 

I was also arrogant.  I was young, athletic, thin, and tall.  The doctors told me I had a perfect body for carrying three.  I LOVE challenges and I knew I could do it and I knew having three babies at once would be a challenge that I could face with joy.  A friend told me some random story of a woman who was pregnant with triplets and only 1 ended up living.  I said, I am pregnant with three, I will at least end up with 1 as well.

As we drove home I asked Darren "Why do you think God let all three stick now?  Why these ones, after all the failed ones before?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"Triplets will get a lot of attention.  Maybe God wants us to share our story so others can have hope and see His faithfulness." 

I smiled.  Yes.  That made sense.  By the time we got home we had already become so excited about this journey ahead of us and couldn't wait to tell our family.  The dream of becoming a mom was a reality.  I saw three heartbeats at 6 weeks, again at 7, then again at 8.  Strong ones.

At 9 weeks I spotted once.  I went in to be safe and sadly found out Baby B had miscarried that morning.  He was the same size as the other two.  I felt sadness but convinced myself that maybe it was for the best for the other 2. 

Jude and Brinly continued to grow as our dreams of boy/girl twins grew.  One of each.  I remember placing my hand on my stomach thanking God for His faithfulness and apologizing for ever questioning His goodness from all those painful years of ttc.

Most people know the story.  Something called pPROM that happens to literally .07% of people happened to us.  My water on my daughter broke at 17 weeks.  In the most horrific of events we chose to believe and trust Him for a miracle.  A week later her cord collapsed and killed her (no water to protect her).  I delivered her dead at 18 weeks.  I was awake for her delivery.  Brinly was not a miscarriage.  Many people refer to the twins as that and it stings.  She was 9 inches.  She had a face. 

I got an emergency cerclage to try to help my body stablilize and not labor Jude.  I was in the hospital on antibiotics 7 times a day for 10 days.  We begged God to let us make it to just 24 weeks where he could have a 50% chance survival.  Things looked hopeful but again, the things we only think of in our nightmares happened again.  Contractions.  Minutes before I delivered Jude I felt him move.  I actually said outloud "see you on the other side."  He was sick, my body was, and the impact of labor killed him.  My sweet stillborn son Jude Samuel Benson was born 1 day shy of 21 weeks.  Just 22 days away from MAYBE being able to live. 


That summer I thought our painful attempts to create a family were finally over, but they were only beginning.

An amazing friend Becky (who actually started a blog about her experience as a carrier, check it out here) carried our biological embryos 3 months after losing Jude and they were born 3 days before his 1 year old birthday. 

In the meantime while Becky was going through all the loop holes to become our carrier, I was drownding in grief and the desire to mother living children was becoming an obsession.  I did a few back to back IUIs out of desperation while waiting for her transfer.  Nothing worked, which led us to 11 failed IUIs. 

Noah and Beckom have healed our hearts in ways that words will never express.  While I think of Jude and Brinly daily, I don't live in the deep sadness that engulfed us after their death.  I feel awkward when people ask how many children I have or if they say "are you going to try for a daughter."  There are days when I still cry, if I really think about what happened.  But then I cry again when I remember the engraved scene in my end of the doctors pulling out my living sons from Becky's stomach-an overwhelming feeling of gratitude, humbleness, and thankfulness as I basked in the redemption that Jesus finally brought us. 

We had some frozen embryos left.  Despite my hellish pregnancy, I had not lost the desire to carry a child.  We had always wanted 3.  The doctors had told me that by transferring "just 1" and taking some precautions I would have a better chance.

This January 2016 we transferred our only female embryo, making it my 4th IVF.  She didn't implant.  This brought back some waves of emotions but we were determined to face infertility again.  We were able to grieve the idea of ever having a daughter here with us as it allowed us to know and choose that moving forward would mean another son.  This was helpful in the sense that we had time to see the pros of another boy/all boy family and get excited. 

We transferred again in March.  I had never done IVF so closely to each other and Darren and I had both agreed that if this 5th IVF didn't take that we would take a long break from the shots/hormones etc.  My gut told me from the beginning he would implant.  He did. 

When you know you have only boy embryos left and have been trying to conceive for almost 6 years, you have a lot of time to pick names. 

Darren and I always loved Jude and Judah.  Noah and Beckom's names are so meaningful to us because of the "rainbow" in the Bible and Beckom is a combo of Becky and Tom's names...this one though?  Judah.  During my 2 week wait I looked up the name.  Biblically Judah was the fourth son of Jacob and Leah.  He will be our fourth son as well. 

I would be lying if I didn't say that this pregnancy has been easy. I have lived on egg shells since the injections began.  For months and months I was convinced I was in pre-term labor or my water was breaking or I was miscarrying.  Besides delivering Jude and Brinly, this is mentally the hardest thing I have ever done.  Panic, fear, anxiety, have been a part of my daily life.  Choosing to try to carry again after stillborn twins born at different times brings up A LOT of PTSD that I didn't see coming.  It again challenges my faith.  But the idea of birthing a live child from my body, although it seemed impossible for years, is starting to look like a reality. 

I'll be posting a bit more about all that this rainbow pregnancy has entailed (including my surgery, MFM appointments, etc).  In the meantime I'm working on a new blog called "Raising Captain America."  I will be the mother to THREE boys who all happened to be frozen, just like him <3  My goal is to make Captain America their fav.


Here is us on transfer day, March 21 (notice I'm sporting the Cap. America shirt to support my little frozen baby boy).  If you want to see updates on little Noah and Beckom (TWO in November!) my Instagram is hbenson10

It Was Another Lifetime and It Was Yesterday

May 12, 2015

"Sometimes infertility feels forever ago, and then someone announces the Stick Turned Blue and I’m right back in the emotions, the longing, the feeling left out.  It was another lifetime and it was yesterday.  A part of me will always be that woman with her face pressed up against the glass looking in on what she can’t have."  - Melanie Dale

I came across this article above felt so connected to it.  It was another lifetime and it was yesterday.  I longed for, fought for, injected for, begged for, paid for, bled for the chance to be a mom for four long years.  During those 4 years I experienced 11 IUIs, 3 IVFs, a 6 week miscarriage, a triplet pregnancy that resulted in a miscarriage at 9 weeks after seeing his heartbeat 3 times, my water breaking and going into preterm labor with my daughter at 18 weeks, and then when I thought there would be a miracle, lost my son Jude at 21 weeks.  I have been an infertile longer than I have been a mom to living children.  I have more experience on that awful side then on the side of parenting.

Beckom and Noah have brought an unexplainable amount of healing to the nasty hole that was left in my heart from the loss of my stillborn twins, and the compound years of negative pregnancy tests, stressful ovulation mating, countless pills and tears.  They will never replace Jude and Brinly, but like stiches, they have helped my wounds close and have allowed me to live again.  They have in a sense, saved my life. 

I have avoided church on Mother's Day for years.  I was over the "all moms please stand up" section where I would have to desperately watch mom's get flowers and hugs and applause.  It worsened when I lost the twins.  I deserved to stand, I wanted to stand. I had HELD my own child, he was just dead.  But if I stood-would people think I was pregnant?  Would people be confused?  Would the really fertile women who have no clue what it is like to miscarry/deliver babies roll their eyes? I wasn't jealous.  I wish their was a word that mixes a twinge of jealously with deep deep longing for something just and good that isn't happening for no-good-reason; a word that captures a woman holding her empty stomach and sobbing, a word that captures the unbearable silence in the ultrasound room after the words "I cannot detect a heartbeat".  Melanie Dale puts it perfectly=for so many years I felt like that woman with her face pressed up against the glass looking in on what she can't have. 

This year I attended church, twins in tow, and sat with my own mom.  The moment came.  All mom's stand up.  I did, but I felt weird.  I was so conscious of the fact that there were women in the room who had suffered silently, who were longing for the title, who were fighting themselves to beat infertility.  I got my flower.  I got my chocolate.  But to the majority of the strangers there, I just looked a lucky girl that got 2 for 1.  I have actually had strangers tell me "you are so lucky you got two."  While I am beyond lucky I got twins through a selfless friend/carrier and a 2835723895732 treatments, I am not lucky.  My story has been bumpy, and messy, yet somehow beautiful. That is His way I guess.  On Mother's Day I was happy and sad-Dale also puts in her article, it's a tension between wooo-hoooing that I am finally a mom and mourning for the women who are not and want to be.  Mother's day reminds me of ALL my children and that makes me happy and sad too.

On a lighter note, I will tell you about Noah's Mother's Day gift to me.  Mother's Day afternoon we spent quietly at home relaxing.  The boys are really really into their jumperoos (it's almost like a baby bungy) and Noah was jumping his little heart out with a huge smile for a long time.  I eventually went to sit by him and then I saw it-#3 running down his leg and getting grounded into the carpet with each soul-felt hop.  I yelled for Darren to come look at his son.  I couldn't stop laughing.  I carried him to the bathroom at an arms length away while Darren started the bath.  As I was holding him awkwardly in the bathroom, I turned to look at the scene in the mirror.  Noah turned too, caught my eye, and with his little poop filled onsie he gave me the biggest gummiest smile ever.  I just have to say to those designers of Dolce and Gabanna that recently said "IVF babies are synthetic" there is NOTHING synthetic about their #3.  I smiled the whole time I cleaned Noah up.  His mother's day gift reminded me I'm a mom, to living kids too.

 For those mommies to children that have died, and to women who are mother's in their hearts but have not yet gotten to hold your child, keep fighting.  Miracles still happen.

Me holding Jude, 2013, then me holding Noah and Beckom, 2015

 

It Still Stings

July 5, 2013

You would think that after over 2.5 year of infertility that I would have grown numb to other people's pregnancies. I'm 29 years old.  I am in the ZONE of EVERYONE and their MOTHER (yes, this happened) are getting pregnant.

I have posted several times about my process when I hear about someone pregnant.

1.  First I feel jealous/annoyed and kind of a "that's not fair" attitude.  Although it's easier when someone in the infertility land world gets their BFP, if I'm being 100% honest, I still get that initial kicker.  We were in the same boat and now they left it.  Waves of emotions come (I am NOT saying this is right, I'm aware of that.  Read on).

2.  Second, I feel bad that I'm jealous that something good happened to someone.  I am really really nice and that first emotion is really really mean.

3.  Third, guilt.  I'm evil!  Why am I crying that someone else got something I want?  That is wrong.

4.  Anger.  I'm angry that infertility has created this mean cycle in me.  Angry I feel guilty.  Angry that something I'm trying for for so ##^^#% long comes so @#@#%% easily for someone else (or sometimes harder if its from other infertiles).

5.  Sadness.  Deep deep sadness.  A reminder that I may never experience pregnancy.  No guarantees.  Again, "unfair" emotions of lucky person at least knows they will.

6.  Reconciliation.  Reflection.  Calming down.  Choosing to chose to be so happy for them.  So sad for me.

My YOUNGER sister who has a 10 month year old baby has a friend who is my age.  Her friend has been married a couple years and really relaxed about having kids later.  I think her knowing about my situation made her nervous to wait, so they decided to start trying (like 3 months ago). I  just found out she is pregnant.  My mind whirled. I honestly, physically cannot image getting pregnant with in 3 months of trying.  I know it happens.  A lot.  But I couldn't digest it.  I'm sitting here, injecting myself with hormones, praying for miracle, fighting for 36 months and BAM, 3 months? 

I know I know.  It's called fertility.  It's called being normal.  It's called being the 9 in 10 that don't have issues.  It stung me though and I don't even ever see this person.  Whoosh me through my 6 step process and I'm happy for her.

The funny thing is, I'm in a lose-lose situation.  As mentioned, even seeing "fellow" bloggers get pregnant is bitter-sweet.  It gives me hope and happiness that they no longer suffer, but in a way it magnifies my pain.  However, I say lose-lose because I'm rooting for these people too.  If they are not pregnant after a treatment, I feel deep sadness for them.  If they miscarry, I SOB.  Like big time cry. I don't want anyone to get pregnant and I don't want anyone not too (lol, can you hear my stims talking by chance?)  I found this "prayer" on a blog and had to share:

Lord, Give me Strength...

·         To keep my cool when another period starts.

·         To keep my chin up when a co-worker announces her pregnancy.

·         To have a good relationship with my friend in spite of her ability to conceive easily and not be jealous of her.

·         To endure my sister-in-law's comments about toilet training.

·         To keep from crying when I see children begging on the roads.

·         To forgive my doctor when he keeps me waiting for two hours for a consultation - and then can't remember my name.

·         To make the right decision about treatment.

·         To maintain a good relationship with my husband in spite of all this

 

I know that this is a season and I trust that in time, I will carry a baby or that God will give us peace to go a different route and that the sting won't be so deep or harsh.  For all you women chasing your BFPs, I really really am rooting and really really am so happy for those that catch it and so sad for those that don't.  We all must keep hoping.