This is the article I had published in the local twins' newsletter...It pretty much describes all I have been through in the past 5 years and
How I Got Here...
Like many women of my generation, I was raised to believe I could have it
all - a career, husband, and family. I'd bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan... After over a decade of failed relationships and settling for men who I
knew were not right for me, I found myself 33 and single. On the flip side, I had honed my professional skills and rose up the ranks in my industry.
And then it happened, j
ust like that. I met the most wonderful man,
literally the boy next door. Within 1 year, we were engaged, within 2 years, we were married. I was in my mid thirties; he was in his early 40’s. While most of our friends had grade school and even high school children, we were getting ready to start our family. I wasn’t
too concerned. 40's the new 30 - the media drilled into our collective psyche. Our culture is
saturated with stories of women career driven women (mostly celebrities) having babies well into their late 30's and even late 40's.
I went through all the motions of preparing to TTC, figuratively rolled up my sleeves and jumped in. I looked at it as one huge project of which I was the Project Manager. I was overseeing
all aspects of this operation, as I did every day at work, so it should be old hat. I began the due diligence, so to speak. I did the footwork (read the books, researched online, etc.) and spent exorbitant amounts of money on all the necessary tools (ovulation prediction kits, home pregnancy kits, online charts, books). I learned all the minutiae of my menstrual cycle. Some of my closest friends made fun of my “data,” and me but I was 100% focused.
I was pretty devastated when things didn't happen right away. I could have never anticipated the anxiety surrounding my monthly menstrual cycle. My inability to focus on anything other than making a baby drained any romance or our newly married life. And work? I was already feeling a great divide forming. I was there physically, but certainly not mentally.
Then, it happened. I finally got a positive HPT. Due to some early spotting, I was reserved in my exuberance. The first ultrasound was wonderful; the baby measured perfectly and there was a beautiful,
swoosh, swoosh, swoosh heartbeat. At 12 weeks, we excitedly went for a nuchal scan and that went swimmingly too. The measurement was ideal and my husband and I walked out of that appointment with a spring in our step. We had made it past the first trimester, things looked good and we would be able to tell people our exciting news. We spent the next week emailing and calling our closest friends and family and word spread quickly.
One week later, I went to my 13 week OB appt and there was no heartbeat. At first, the doctor chalked it up to my being overweight and sent me for an ultrasound. I wasn't very concerned as I was still horribly nauseous, even sitting in the waiting room.
I will
never forget the life altering moment when the ultrasound tech got quiet, then
reached over, put her hand on my knee and said, "
I'm sorry, honey." The week before, all was well and now, my baby was gone. It was
literally like being hit by a truck. Being a newbie to the world of pregnancy loss, I didn't push for any genetic testing, so I will never know the gender or
exactly was wrong, if anything. This is something that haunts me, to this day.
After having to visit a "special" OB who is licensed to handle 12+ week D&E's, I spent about a week in a Vicodin induced haze, snuggled up with my cats. I eventually returned to work, which became somewhat of a refuge for me. One of the most painful aspects of the experience was that for
many months afterward, I was still being congratulated, having to
awkwardly explain what had happened. Apparently good news travels fast, but bad news?
Not so much. I was so thankful I had not shared the news with most of my co-workers. I threw myself back into my work.
After some emotional dusting off, I was ready to jump back into TTC. It felt like I had a gaping hole inside me and the only thing that could fill it up was to get pregnant again –
quickly. I was closing in on 36 now and my OB did some preliminary fertility testing, at my urging. It turned out to be quite informative. We discovered that my ovarian reserve was borderline, at best and my progesterone level was barely showing ovulation, despite like clockwork 14 day luteal phases and clear thermal shifts on my chart. She
urged my to try clomid, but I resisted. I'd known so many people who used it
without success, not to mention the horror stories all over the internet that guaranteed my turning into a headache addled, raving
banshee should I ingest the drug. I
just wasn't ready to go there. I was having to leave work constantly for blood test after blood test for one thing or another. The phlebotomist (and I became quite friendly.
After several months and a second miscarriage, I finally agreed to give clomid a try. My doctor assured me that with my progesterone issues, it really was the best way to go. She was right. I was
ridiculously fortunate to conceive on my first clomid round in 2004. Still reeling from the losses, I lived doctor appointment to doctor appointment. I didn't announce I was pregnant until I was halfway through the pregnancy. Words can’t
describe the sense of fulfillment I experienced when my daughter was born healthy in spring 2005.
The first year of Sofia's life was probably the happiest time in my
entire life. It was
incredibly difficult to come back to work after 4 months of maternity leave, but I knew s
o many women who had only 6 weeks, so tried to stay grateful. I gradually fell into a comfortable routine as I settled in, re-sharpened my skills and tried to enjoy being around adults again. I was
incredibly fortunate to be given the option of reducing my hours and having family as daycare. Finally, I had it all; career, husband,
family. Looking back, those days seemed
so easy.
When my daughter turned 1, I knew I needed to TTC again. I wasn't sure what lay ahead for me, but knew I wanted to try to give my daughter a sibling. I was 38 and that clock was screeching in my ear. I tried for a few months on my own, but once again, in the end, turned to clomid. I conceived my first clomid round in 2006. I had an early u/s that looked perfect and I couldn't
believe that things seemed to be working out.
In my early pregnancy, I was plagued with
severe, debilitating morning sickness. When I started vomiting blood at 11 weeks, my OB prescribed Zofran. It took the edge off, but nothing really relieved the constant sickness. To make matters worse, my father had died unexpectedly, sending me into emotional
overload. I’m still not quite sure how I balanced everything; dealing with the hormones of early pregnancy, overseeing my father’s estate, taking care of a toddler, working outside the home. It’s really just a blur.
At 12 weeks, we decided to have CVS testing done. I went in for the preliminary appointment. I felt my stomach churn with anxiety as I noticed the tech getting
very quiet. Having been down that road before, I prepared for the worst. Then, I turned to the screen and saw what appeared to be 2
spheres separated by a membrane. I knew exactly what
that meant. We were looking at what was
always a possibility (8% chance with clomid) but not a probability - TWINS. I was filled with excitement, fear, confusion and disbelief
all at once. I knew at that moment, my life would never be the same. Fortunately, I had a great pregnancy, working until 34 weeks and carrying them to 37 weeks. They were born beautiful and healthy in spring 2007, each boy a
whopping 6 lbs 7 oz, eliciting shocked "Each?" from many people.
I briefly considered becoming a stay at home mom, but as the carrier of the family’s health insurance, this wasn’t
really an option. We faced several health crises in the early months of the twins’ life (
5 hospitalizations, CT scans, MRI’s, you name it) so having quality health insurance had to take
top priority. I returned to work when the twins were 6 months old and this time, the transition was
much more difficult. Taking care of a household, a marriage
and 3 children under 3 while working outside the home is probably the hardest thing I have
ever attempted to do. There is much chaos,
never enough time to do what needs to be done and I feel like I do everything at 60%. After a few months, my boss did notice and questioned my level of commitment towards my job. I was honest with her and shared how difficult I was finding it to juggle it all. We managed to negotiate a schedule that allowed me more flexibility and seemed to be a win-win for everyone.
It’s been quite a few years, but I wouldn't change a thing about my journey. Through my experience, I truly discovered a new layer of myself, gained strength and awareness. I wish every day that I was able to be a stay at home mom with my children, but then realize how lucky I am to have 3 beautiful children and a job I love. It’s truly a challenge to balance it all, but so far, so good.
