In the beginning
I had always loved babies from the inception, but being the last child, I never really had that opportunity to be a big loving sister to anyone.
Growing up, I remember my mom telling me that I loved babies so much; I would plead with visitors to leave their sweet little ones with me whenever they come visiting.
One of my greatest fantasies when I was a kid was getting pregnant, strolling lazily on a quiet street, one hand on my back, the other gently rubbing my big stomach, and the breeze gently whispering sweet nothings all over me. I had this sweet fantasy every now and then, and couldn’t wait to be a mommy.
Fast forward to some years later, I got married to my prince charming, and we settled in for the happily ever after life.
I never belonged to the group of people that wanted to have a one year honeymoon, and enjoy their first year of marriage without kids. I started trying to conceive immediately I got married. So it was already very disturbing for me when it didn’t happen within the first three months.
I went to the hospital after four months of trying without success, and I was asked to come back after a year of trying; like I really had to wait for one full year before I can even get a diagnosis.
I went back again after just a month, and luckily for me I met a different doctor this time. “One year plus” was my quick reply to him when asked how long have been married. I wasn’t going to wait a whole year to get an ordinary examination. Am still trying to wrap my head around why they always say to wait one year before seeking medical intervention.
All my preliminary tests came out fine; both the pelvic scan and hormonal profiling. “Your stats are fine. Go and try again, and come back if it doesn’t happen within the next three months”. My doctor said to me.
I relaxed a bit, and decided to keep trying on my own, but the two lines never appeared.
Back to the hospital in February 2017, with a few more tests here and there; hsg, another hormonal profiling, folliculometry, and every other fertility test you could think of. All results came out clean. My husband wasn’t excluded from the tests, and all of his results came out very fine. He had no issue whatsoever too.
After all said and done, I was diagnosed with unexplained infertility. In my doctor’s words “Winnie there is nothing medically wrong with you, it would happen. It’s just a matter of time”.
The diagnosis came with some mixed reactions. First, I was glad that I didn’t have any issue hindering my conception, but on the flip side it was a mental torture for me trying to fathom why I couldn’t get pregnant if medically nothing can be said to wrong with me.
My menstrual cycle used to have a mind of its own, and it used to range from 32 to 35 to 40 days. The doctor said it was nothing to worry about since my hormonal profiling came out fine. So when I was in day 45 of my cycle in May 2017, and hadn’t seen my period, I thought it was my cycle playing tricks on me again. Early pregnancy signs and premenstrual symptoms are very similar, so I didn’t take my fuller boobs, and painful nipples to mean anything.
On day 48, I woke up feeling very nauseous with extremely painful nipples. At that point, I knew the time to take the dreaded test had come. I unwillingly dragged myself to the bathroom, and peed in a cup with extremely shaky hands. With my heart beating very fast, I slowly dipped the stick in the cup, closed my eyes, and started counting from 60 backwards.” My will failed me after about 25 seconds. I opened my eyes, brought out the stick, and lo and behold the two very thick lines were staring defiantly at me in the eyes.
…..and screamed, and screamed some more. Hubby hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, scared to death, his brain thinking of a million and one things that could have happened to me. He met me sitting on the water closet with the stick still in my hands. I handed it to him, and he saw the two lines. He brought it closer to his eyes, and stared at it with more intensity, like the lines were going to vanish if he didn’t look at it well enough. He pulled me up, looked me straight in the eyes and kissed me.
It was the best moments of our lives. I was gonna be a mom. My husband was gonna be a dad. Hubby worshipped the ground I walked on. I saw a part of him that I never knew existed, he doted on me like never before; guess that’s what being a dad -to -be does to you. Life was good; we were happy, fulfilled and couldn’t ask for more.
Good people they say don’t live long, but I guess not just good people alone. Beautiful times too seldom last forever. Our euphoria and happiness of being parents in the making was short lived.
My first scan at seven weeks showed a gestational sac with no viable fetal pole, meaning there was a pregnancy but the heartbeat of the baby which represents the fetal pole wasn’t seen. I was told to repeat the test at nine weeks. Nine weeks came, I scanned again, still no heartbeat. Waited till twelve weeks did the scan again, but it was still the same.
I took the result to the hospital, and I was told I was having an anembryonic pregnancy (a pregnancy without an embryo), and would have to undergo a D&C if I didn’t pass out the pregnancy sac on my own.
My brain did a 360 degree turn. I struggled to understand what the man in white coat was saying, but the only word that stood out was D&C. I was given a week for the sac to expel on its own, or have a D&C if it doesn’t.
I went back home shattered and broken. It felt like my entire word had started to crumble right before my very eyes
Few days lighter, I started expelling the sac with the most excruciating pain have ever experienced in my life.
I was rushed to the hospital, and placed on admission. After series of injections, drips, and drugs, I expelled the remaining sac, and was discharged after about a week with an empty uterus. I lost my pregnancy in July 2017.
It’s been a topsy turvy ride ever since. Here I am in 2019, still praying, still hoping, still keeping faith.
May the universe smile on me soon.