Faith Through Multiple Miscarriages

 When I was 25 I found out I was pregnant. It was a big surprise. We had been married for 2 years and I had missed taking my birth control pill at the exact right time on the exact wrong days. I immediately panicked and through hysterical tears told my husband I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t planned on this (and I’m a planner)! But we quickly became excited and we started telling all of our friends and family despite the fact I was only 5 few weeks along. Some well-meaning friends and family told us we may want to wait to tell people our good news but when you’re a young newlywed you still have those rose-colored glasses on and can only hope for the best. By 6 weeks I had lost the baby. I was devastated. Little did I know that this was just the beginning. It would take three long years to have the baby I desired.

     Something about that first pregnancy ignited my internal hard-wiring as a woman to desperately need and crave a baby. I couldn’t ignore the yearning. So I went off birth control and we started trying. Except this time I couldn’t conceive again. I had always had irregular cycles but never thought much about what that would mean when baby-making time was upon us.

     After the first year I started taking medication to regulate my cycles. Our once carefree intimate life was now restricted to the right days and times and the inevitable stress and disappointment that would come with each cycle. It put a lot of stress on our marriage but I am lucky to have a husband who stands by me through the worst and the best of times.

     Somewhere into the second year I began to conceive again but the pregnancy would always end in miscarriage before the 10th week. I was so depressed after that first miscarriage I never thought I could go through it again. but I did. Four more times to be exact. Each time I became more depressed but I never gave up. I didn’t want to take medication for the depression because I didn’t want anything to negatively affect my potential pregnancies. My friends have asked me how I found the strength to keep trying. I couldn’t give up faith and hope. That internal need to have a baby wouldn’t let me quit. And I truly believed through prayer that I would eventually get the baby I craved. So I kept going.

     The depression was debilitating. It became extremely difficult to be around friends with babies or in public places like church where they were everywhere. I couldn’t go to baby showers so I would send food and presents along with other friends attending. I found it hard to talk about. Unless you are very close to someone going through this cycle of hope, loss and grief I think you remain blissfully ignorant. But when I did choose to share I found many women I knew had experienced at least one miscarriage and could at least empathize to some degree. It made me feel less alone. And my husband was my rock. He was my shoulder to cry on every day. He deserves a gold medal for surviving this low point with me.  

     By the third year we had endured infertility testing and medication and the ultimate grief that comes with the loss of 5 babies. We started looking for other options. In fact we had just written out the initial check for an adoption agency when I became pregnant for the sixth time. We had recently moved to the state of Washington and I was determined to keep this baby. I had learned a few things along my journey and knew not to waste my time making an appointment with the regular OBGYN. I went straight to an infertility clinic and begged them to see me right away.

     A miracle happened! These new doctors figured out the right medications for me to take to keep my baby healthy. And though I felt like I held my breath for those 41 weeks I was able to keep the baby. I had some serious pains in the beginning so I sat on the couch in my new apartment in near isolation for the entire pregnancy. My mother called me the human incubator. I was afraid to move. I was afraid I would lose the baby every day and I rejoiced over every small milestone. I felt so relieved when I reached the point when I knew he could survive without me (or in spite of me and my body). Fortunately for both of us he was quite happy in there and had to be induced to come out.

     Holding my healthy baby for the first time was pure happiness. I was on a new mommy high. I was so grateful for this huge blessing. All the breast feeding challenges and the sleepless nights to come couldn’t really get me down because I finally had him.

     My last hurdle to overcome was giving him a brother. I grew up an only child and it was extremely important for me to give him what I never had: someone to be his best friend his whole life. At least that is what I hope for! I knew I was asking for a lot. I would probably have to endure many challenges to accomplish it but I knew it would be worth it in the end.

     I was fortunate to get pregnant again when my first baby was 10 months old. We had started trying right away because we didn’t know if or when it would happen for us. The second pregnancy did not go as smoothly as the first. I suffered quite a bit more pain and was hardly able to walk the last 20 weeks. But baby boy #2 was born healthy and happy. I was immensely grateful to my Heavenly Father and knew that my family was complete. I had forced my body to do what seemed to be impossible. But it was worth it.

     I still suffer extreme and obscure side effects from having my little boys. I do live with daily pain. But it was my choice and I would gladly pay it again to have these little angels in my life. I do still struggle with my acceptance over the limitations in my life. Some days it’s easier to be accepting than others. I think everyone always hopes for the easy road and perfect health. But the toll on my physical and mental health is outshined by the joy and happiness these little babes bring me and my husband. I have the family I always dreamed about and I feel truly blessed.

By: Jennifer Meru