The Husband Knows Best

When I say that I never wanted to get pregnant again, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to have a baby.  It wasn’t because I didn’t want to see my belly grow and expand to accommodate a little fetus.  It wasn’t because I didn’t want to raise a child.  It was for a very selfish reason.  I never wanted to get pregnant again, because I didn’t want to experience that heartbreak and loss I felt with my miscarriage… EVER again.

Of course I still yearned for a baby.  I was still envious of every woman I saw with an adorable baby bump.  But my need to protect my emotions trumped those feelings and so I was determined to never get pregnant again.

But… here’s the thing.  I’m married to this wonderful man.  He is a true man’s man (likes to shoot guns, watch and play sports, work with his hands)… but he is also very sensitive and in-tune spiritually.  So when I told him my plans of never getting pregnant again, he gave me that ‘you’re a crazy woman’ look and said “We’ll see”.

Then, one day (in March), the Husband sat me down.  “I think you need to get back on fertility drugs,” he told me.  I now looked at him like he was insane.  “It hasn’t been long enough,” I protested, “I haven’t healed yet, emotionally.”  The Husband took me by the hand and looked me in the eyes, “I know,” he said, “but I really feel like this is what we need to do.”  His words were so sincere and thoughtful; I just couldn’t bring myself to rebuff his request.  I knew, deep down in my heart, that what he was suggesting was a good thing…. Crazy… but good.

So, I called my doctor’s office and told them I needed to start another round of “The Steps”.  Although it was pointless, I had already taken a pregnancy test.  With the negative pregnancy test, I was given a prescription for progesterone.

Because I was such a pro at this point, I knew that I would be starting my cycle within 3 days of taking the progesterone.  I took the first dose on March 21^st.  We spent that weekend up at my family’s cabin in Island Park.  We had a great time snowshoeing and playing games with family.  I didn't feel very well that whole trip.  I found myself feeling constantly tired, exhausted even.  I found myself resisting all food, just the thought of food made me sick.  When I still hadn’t started my cycle after 3 days of progesterone, I was convinced there was something wrong with the dose.

On Monday, March 26^th, it had been 6 days since I had started taking the progesterone.  I couldn’t figure out what was happening.  Finally, halfway through the day, it occurred to me that I could (maybe, just possibly) be pregnant.  I rushed home and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.  I was pregnant.

It was like my fondest dreams and worst nightmares were coming to fruition at the same time.  I took a picture of the test and texted it to The Husband with the words “I guess this means we’re pregnant”.

At the cabin... pregnant and I didn't even know it.

 

Two weeks later I went in for a doctor’s visit.  I was seven weeks along at the time and I was able to see my wee babe, heart beat and all, moving around on the ultrasound screen like a maniac.  It was a miracle.  Somehow I had managed to get pregnant without the help of fertility drugs.  My little ovaries had done the job all by themselves.  My doctor explained that I had taken the progesterone at the exact right time for it to sustain my pregnancy, which otherwise would have most likely failed.

Isn’t that incredible?  This is why I believe The Husband knows best.  Had he not been prompted to have us start “The Steps” when we did, I may have had another miscarriage.

Obviously, I was still very nervous about the pregnancy.  I was certain at any moment my baby’s heart would stop beating.  Because of this, it was very difficult for me to be excited about my pregnancy. Finally pregnant and not a bit excited.  Irony at its finest.