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.