Tiny Eden

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Hello, God. Can you hear me?

"Congratulations, Mrs. Byram! Your progesterone level was perfect and your HCG level was thru the roof. You are pregnant!". Those were the words I had been praying to hear when my phone rang at 1:34 on Friday, September 23. Instead, I heard, "Hello, Marisa? This is Dr. Elsner. Are you at work? Well, I have your results here and they are not good. We really thought it was going to work." After that, I am not really sure what she said. She just kept talking and talking and I just wanted to hang up. I managed to keep my composure for the 3 minute 40 second long phone conversation, but as soon as I hung up, my world crashed. For the past week, I just knew that it was good news. Every 40 minutes to an hour, I was peeing. Never before had I consumed so much water. The low grade fever I had just had to be from the fact that my metabolism sped up in order to compensate for the 1 or 2 new lives that were getting acquainted inside my uterus.

On the morning of September 12, as I was getting off I-85 at North Druid Hills waiting to make the left turn at the lite, I had a conversation with God. I do this all of the time. But this time there was desperation in my voice and I was actually speaking out loud. I thought maybe this would help get my point across a little more thoroughly. God, please don't let my egg transfer be today. It has only been 3 days, so that means that my embryos aren't very strong if they need to go in today. If they do need to go in today, please make sure they are strong enough to survive. I would rather get a phone call saying that none of the embryos survived and that we can't do a transfer at all instead of getting a call 12 days later that I am not pregnant. Please work with me on this.

September 12 was 10 years to the day that I got Cheyenne, so I knew that it had to be a lucky day. Sam and I were in the procedure room waiting for the transfer when I told him that Cheyenne was going to make this happen. The doctor came in and asked if we wanted 1 or 2 embryos transferred and we decided on 2. The thought of us having not just one, but 2 babies was just riveting. My eyes filled with tears as I watched these 2 little microscopic blobs make themselves comfortable. I clutched my St. Gerard medal that I wore around my neck and asked him to make these 2 little embryos strong enough to survive and give them the chance they deserve as well as give Sam and I the chance the parents we have longed to be.

For the next 12 days that followed, I did everything that I was supposed to do. I avoided caffeine, stayed off my feet for long periods of time, ate healthily, took my shots, took my vitamins, drank only water and juice, switched to decaf coffee, you name it, I did it. But mostly, I talked to them. I told them that when they made their arrival into the world, we had a great bedroom for them with a wonderful view of the back yard. I told them that they could be whatever they wanted to be when they got older and that their dad and I would support them. We had not just one, but 2 dogs who were going to give them kisses and play fetch with them. If there was a girl in there, I was going to become the girliest girl around and I was going to dress her in fun, pretty dresses, teach her how to do her makeup, take her shopping and teach her how to find all the good sales. If there was a boy in there, I was going to be "sports mom". I would find out the rules to whatever sport he wanted to play and become good at it. He would be a momma's boy, but he would know how to cook, clean, and do the laundry. He would grow up to learn to be a gentleman and buy a girl flowers before dates, open doors, and say and do all the right things. Whether it was a girl or a boy, they would be a GIANTS fan and their dad would teach them to play tennis. I will always hug them and kiss them before they got out of the car for school even if it was embarrassing because that is what mom's do.

The fact that I won't get to feel a baby kick for the first time, hear a hearbeat or 2 for the first time, get morning sickness, stretch marks, swollen ankles, swollen feet, have people ask when I'm due or if I know if it is a girl or a boy beyond saddens me. For people who say that you aren't missing much have obviously never had trouble conceiving.

The doctor and the company that we used came highly recommended to us by many people. Through out this whole process, I have said that I was less than impressed with them. I never saw the same doctor because my doctor was always out of the country or at a family reunion with every appointment that I had. The nurse was very cold and matter of fact - not that she needed to be warm and fuzzy all of the time, but this is a very scary process so a little bit of compassion would be somewhat appreciated. These are complaints that I have had during this entire process, so I really don't want people to think that I am saying this because I am disgruntled. When we are paying over $20,000 for a procedure that is not guaranteed, the least we could ask for is consistency, kindness, and compassion.

My family, friends, and co-workers have been very supportive. There were people at work who gave up cancellation dates for me, everyone was saying a ton of prayers and sending positive thoughts, and were just genuinely excited. It was not just Sam and myself who were going thru this process, it was everyone that we knew who was going thru it with us. We were not the only ones who were let down by this. Granted, there were some people whose religious beliefs don't agree and it was evident to me the lack of sincerity that was there, but that is all right. That is what makes the world go round. If they were in our shoes, they would probably think differently. Everything changes once you are the person who can't have a child. We know there are other options out there for us. As soon as our hearts heal, we will be looking into those. We are very understanding of the fact that when a child is adopted, you love them just as if they were biologically yours. But I think it is understandable that we will be grieving the fact that we won't have a little being that has Sam's eyes and nose, my feet and sense of humor, I won't physically experience pregnancy, nor will we ever know what we could have created together. My faith is a little shaken at the moment as I think many people's would be.

I know God has a plan for us and that everything happens for a reason, but it is not what we want to hear right now. Please just pray that we get the guidance and strength we need to get thru this. In the meantime, I will be turning my attention back to my Happiness Project in October. This is just the kind of distraction that I need. It will help my heart to heal. Perhaps we will make the adoption process our goal one month. You never know.

"We must accept finite dissapointment, but never lose infinite hope." ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

"Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith." ~ St Francis of Assisi


Linda M said...

Prayers for guidance and strength. Hugs for you both!

Gail said...

My heart breaks for you and wish you lots of healing energy.

Rhonda said...

I have a friend who has adopted twice. Her children's personalities reflect her and her husband. Just because you adopt doesn't mean they won't be like you. They just won't have your DNA. My oldest daughter has the same interest, passions, and sense of humor as her step-dad. Her biological dad is in the picture, but she is just like my CF hubby. I am so sad for you and the things you will miss being pregnant. I am so happy for you and the joy you will bring to a child's life. <3