The cost of a Child

If you are lucky enough to be my Facebook friend, it means that once upon a time we had a good relationship, and I have no qualms about telling you my personal business. I am about to share something with you, something that is very tender. If you don't want the details of our story, don't read it. It will include female anatomy and bodily functions!

Last year, I left Facebook because of everything I was personally going through. I couldn’t physically, emotionally, or mentally keep up with it. Life has hit really hard in many ways, but the most bothersome is what other typical women can do so well and my body can’t do. This will be the first time that I speak out publicly, other than in my unique Facebook support groups.

Nick and I are barren.

I will let those words sink in, and then I will tell you what that means to us.

Nick and I knew a long time ago that children weren’t going to come naturally to us. Whatever gave us that clue... maybe the fact that we have been married for 11+ years and we still don’t have a child.

When we moved to Boston, in the back of our minds we knew that this would be the place to discover what had been wrong with us all these years. Finally, doctors who listened to us. Finally, doctors fighting on our side.

The horrible, awful truth came out, and I want to shed some light on things that many people don’t know exist. In fact, there are only a few doctors in the world who treat it, and I happen to live near one. Coincidence? We don’t think so.

Asherman’s Syndrome: where the uterus has adhesions (scar tissue), typically due to a D&C, but they can form in other ways. Some cases are mild, moderate, or severe, and the scar tissue can be in the cervix, located in a singular place in the uterus (mild), or everywhere (severe). I was, unfortunately, a severe case, although I had never had a D&C or other surgery to cause it. Everything was scarred shut, including my cervix.

Right before my surgery to remove my scar tissue, I was also told that I had a low ovarian reserve (aka a low number and quality of eggs). This was another devastating blow to my womanhood.

If you thought that my womb being filled with scar tissue and my eggs being crap wasn’t bad enough, we also found, through a biopsy of my uterus, that I had gone through menopause. It wasn’t active at all.

I had no idea that not having a period for over a year qualified as and was considered the start of menopause. Looking back, I figured out that it had to have happened in my mid-to-late 20s.

At this point, we had no choice but to either give up on our dream of becoming parents and call it a loss or have surgeries and go through hell to figure it out.

We chose the latter, and surgery after surgery, pill after pill, we finally got to the point where my uterus was reactivated and 80% scar-free, and we were cleared for our first round of IVF (In Vitro Fertilization).

We had no other choice because of all the factors: the 20% of scar tissue covered both of my tubes, I had a low egg reserve, and I didn’t ovulate on my own.

I was on the highest dose of several medications that I injected into my tummy multiple times every day. This process was unpleasant, but we were hopeful that the results would be worth it.

Finally, the time came to see if all of our $$ was wasted, and happy news came!

We were pregnant.

We were so happy, but also hesitant to tell people and to really enjoy the news.

As we entered our 6th-week appointment to hear the heartbeat for the first time, we were giddy. The ultrasound tech did her thing in silence and then called the doctor in. They began to whisper. She said we were done and started to clean up.

I quickly asked if I could hear the heartbeat.

She put her hand on my knee and very gently told me that there wasn’t one.

They handed me a box of tissues, apologized, and walked out.

I was so shocked that I couldn’t even cry at that moment.

We went to see our doctor immediately after, and as the receptionist read the letter from the previous test, she looked at the tears rolling down our cheeks and brought us to a room where we could be alone.

We were told that the pregnancy was simply not viable, but they would double-check everything in a week to be sure.

It was the hardest week. After reading and hearing a lot of miracle stories, I thought I was also going to have one of them, but I didn’t.

The pregnancy wasn’t viable, so we scheduled a removal for two days later in the OR.

The pain, numbness, and faith-shaking emotions we went through during this time were heart-shattering.

The doctor took out the sac, and just like that, I wasn’t pregnant anymore.

Or so I thought.

A few days later, I started experiencing a lot of bleeding and told them what I was feeling and seeing. I asked if it was normal because it didn’t feel normal.

They reassured me that I was fine. I had a scheduled test the following day, and they would see then.

It turns out that my HCG levels were still very high, and I knew exactly what was wrong.

I ignored that doctor’s office and went back to see my Asherman’s Syndrome doctor the next morning.

I had an ultrasound that showed that a large chunk of baby stuff was stuck in