Our Miracle (Part 1)

"What doctors said could never be, God has done miraculously!"

I wrote this in March when we announced our miracle pregnancy. After 9 long years, God has given us a sweet baby that arrives THIS September. My heart explodes with gratitude every time I think about it (which is practically every day now that I feel all those tiny kicks).

In response to our announcement, several ladies message me to inquire about my story. As I look back at this near decade's dance with infertility, a PCOS diagnosis, and a roller coaster ride of heartache, I'm in awe that we are in this season at all. Experience tells me not to get my hopes up. Reality says what if's could determine a different outcome, but God clearly spoke: "It will be!" and "It is!"

My story is a 100% God's timing and 100% His miracle. Quite frankly, I'd given up completely. Last April I hit the absolute lowest point in my life. A fertility specialist told me I would never be able to conceive children naturally. No words describe the depths of brokenness that followed. As I fumbled through hopelessness, Jesus made it undeniably clear another baby was joining our family (literally MONTHS before discovering this pregnancy).

But before you can truly understand how miraculous this story is, you have to understand the struggle and heartbreak. I don't hold the answers to anyone else's infertility issues. I only know that I hit rock bottom last year. I was broken and then instantly restored. If nothing else, my prayer is that by sharing my story, it will place seeds of hope in your heart for God to miraculously intervene in your own story.

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We lost our first baby. I still remember everything about that day. I wore brown capri pants with a light pink top. It was the very first ultrasound, so my husband Kiel took the morning off work to go with me. We'd only been married 3 months and were SO excited for that baby. Moments later, the worst news imaginable. No heartbeat. The baby was gone. The months that followed were a blur. Every missed milestone, every pregnancy announcement, and every baby shower not my own hurt. The last thing I wanted was for people to feel sorry for me or to feel bad because they had what I so desperately longed for, so I suffered silently.

About 6 months after the miscarriage, I returned to my OBGYN. We still weren't pregnant and the hole in my heart seemed to grow larger with every passing day. She suggested a round of Clomid, an entry level infertility drug. It took me 3 months to muster the courage to take it. I clearly remember the first morning taking the first pill. I didn't want to play God, but I desperately wanted a baby. I prayed this was God's will, not my own and with that, I took the first pill. Our daughter Evangeline came 9 months later.

Pregnancy was not kind to me. In fact, I would say my body completely turned against itself during and after pregnancy. I had no strength, no energy, severely anemic (due to a placental abruption at home), and my hormones were all kinds of crazy. This was the first time I heard the words Polycycstic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). My doctor told me I had it, that I would always have it, but there were no tests for a positive diagnosis and nothing could be done to treat or get rid of it. It was just part of who I was and if we wanted another kid, just try more Clomid.

Countless rounds of Clomid rendered nothing but negative pregnancy tests in the years that followed. Higher level infertility treatments were out of the question, so we decided to "take a break". In spite of that, my thoughts, my dreams, and my prayers all revolved around having another baby. We knew our move to Thailand was quickly approaching. I never wanted Evangeline to be an only child, especially in a foreign context. The very thought broke me in a way I can't describe. It felt like I had fundamentally failed my child. I kept pleading with God, but He seemed to remain silent.

When we moved to Thailand, I started having weird and seemingly random health issues. Over the next 3 years I experienced a myriad of illnesses ... Shingles, Vertigo, acid re-flux, cold sores, and inflammation just to name a few. Every time I went to the doctor, I was told "there's nothing wrong with you" and given a band-aid drug. I even went to an endocrinologist for extensive testing, only to be told I was "normal". When I mentioned what my American doctor said years ago, she told me all the blood-work markers for PCOS came back negative. I couldn't possibly have it. My only clue was now gone. How could I be normal AND feel so horrible?! Was it all in my head? I started to wonder if I was going crazy.

My pain continued to increase and with it, my anxiety. I wasn't sleeping. I woke up every night in the worst pain imaginable because there was so much inflammation in my body. I even started to wonder if a day would come when I might not wake up at all. Two months before returning to Oregon, my husband and I felt prompted to check in with a fertility specialist, as it's much cheaper in Thailand and maybe *just maybe* we could find some answers with a simple examination/ evaluation.

To our surprise, the nurse ushered us in immediately to see a somber elderly doctor. He said he was 95% sure I had PCOS and tested my Anti-Mullerian Hormone (AMH). My levels were through the roof. I finally had my answer. We started inquiring about possible fertility treatments, but since we were moving in 2 months, he recommended I do one treatment to monitor my body's response to the fertility drugs. We agreed. For the first time in years, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe this was the answer we were praying for? Finally, a doctor with answers! In that moment, I started allowing my heart to hope again.

My hope was short lived, however, with my return visit to the fertility specialist. His prognosis was that my body no longer responded to infertility treatments and our only option for future children was IVF. With that, he gave me copies of his medical notes and washed his hands of my care. I stumbled back to the waiting room, trying to keep my tears in check. I sat down, surrounded by beautifully glowing pregnant women. They were so happy and I was so broken. IVF was out of the question. There would be no more children.

I don't remember how I got home that day, I just remember bursting into tears as soon as I closed the door. I wept bitterly. My husband was at a conference and left immediately to be with me. All I could do was cry myself to sleep that night. I felt ill and numb. My dream of another baby was gone. There was no room for hope now. I didn't know how to move past this, but it was time to move on. I had never felt such sorrow or hopelessness than I did that day. The only thing left to do was pick up my broken pieces and make a new plan.

Continue reading Our Miracle (Part 2)