My Mother's Day

Thirty four years of marriage.

It's was probably only 6 months after we married that we decided to stop using preventative measures against pregnancy.  Not anxious to have a child at the point, but we were willing to.

Three years later, despite our most ardent efforts *grinning* we were still childless and we were becoming anxious.  I concluded...something was wrong.

I spent hours at the library, (this was before the internet took off) for sure.  I read and pored over books.  I taught myself how to read fertility signs.  I learned how to chart them and dutifully took my basal body temp every morning with an aching bladder, impatiently waiting for the 2 minutes to be up.

I learned I did not have fertile times.  I did not ovulate.

It would be a couple more years before finding a doctor who was willing to help us conceive.  We were active duty military at the time, and for the first few years I got the same attitude from military doctors.  They were callous and disinterestd in propogating more "military brats."

It was at 6 years that we were stationed in Mayport Fl where military spouses (me) had to use civilian medical, paid by CHAMPUS.  There a doctor diagnosed...polycystic ovarian syndrome.  I was correct.  I was not ovulating.  But he held out hope...fertility meds that were inducing ovulation in women like me.

So I started.  Month after month of blistering hot flashes, wild mood swings, scheduled sex and periods.  Lots and lots of periods.  I suffered the humiliaton of exams and giving the doctor my temp and sex charts...embarrassment of having someone comment on how often you are having sex.

Every month I flushed my hope away with a heavy heart.  Year Six, I skipped Mother's Day at church.  I couldn't face the celebrations with empty arms.

In the fall of 1986, I had a positive pregnancy test and how we rejoiced.  But weeks later, we grieved that loss.  My heart was broke and I determined that God did not want me to have the desire of my heart.  He did not want me to be happy.  I did not trust him.

That Spring of 1987, both of us skipped Mother's Day celebrations and went on a day trip.  Anything to keep from hearing the happy voices around us.  That year, I flew home to spend a month for a sister's wedding.  I was home with my father for Father's Day, numbing the pain of not successfully giving my husband a ticket to the day.

Unknown to us, this would be a turning point.  I had determined...I was stopping.  No more charts.  No more temps.   I didn't have the heart for it right now.  I was just going to love my husband and be done with this torture and repeated failure.

I got pregnant.

It wasn't an easy pregnancy...threatened miscarriage, hypertension, pre-eclampsia and diabetes all threatened the life I carried.  I lived in fear that I would wake up one day and it would be over again.  I spent 7 months on bedrest, living on my left side to give my child the best blood flow.

Then one morning in Feb 1988, it happened.

 I had my Mother's Day