We always knew that we wanted to have children, even though we could never agree on how many. Being a mother is something that I have dreamt about since I was a little girl. I have always felt that being a mom is my life’s calling, and couldn’t understand why we didn’t have an easy time conceiving. We started trying to conceive in September of 2005, about one year after we were married. From the very first failed attempt, we were heartbroken every time we saw a negative pregnancy test or the beginnings of a new cycle. We wanted children so badly that it was painful when our desire went unfulfilled. We longed to see two pink lines on a home pregnancy test, longed to make a joyful announcement to our friends and family, longed to prepare our home for a child, and longed for a baby to love and cherish. We tried to conceive on our own for about a year, and came to the realization that perhaps we needed help to make this dream a reality.
We began seeing a reproductive endocrinologist that was recommended to us by many people. We liked and respected him immediately, and felt optimistic after hearing his assurances that we could conceive. Through all of our diagnostic testing, the only problem he found was low hormone levels. This was easily overcome with medication, but after three failed cycles with him, we began to wonder if that was the only obstacle.
After suffering through a rare ovarian pregnancy in July of 2007, our treatment became more intense and our emotions more pronounced. We were devastated by our pregnancy loss and unsure of what the future held for us. It was at this point that we began researching and praying about adoption. We decided that we would continue with fertility treatments until we reached the point where we felt that we had done everything we felt comfortable with. We wanted to try at least a few more cycles with our doctor. I had also been pursuing the natural route to fertility—yoga, meditation, acupuncture and herbs, and organic foods in the hopes that this would boost our chances. We did one more cycle, and then decided to “go for the gold.” In the fertility world, this means in-vitro fertilization. We were surprised by our change of heart—we had decided from the beginning that we would not embark on this invasive, expensive, emotionally trying procedure. As we were learning, though, infertility treatments were very addicting. When one cycle failed, there was the hope of a new one that would work. There was always the same thought in the back of our heads, “What if next time is it?” So in January of 2008 we endured (well, I endured) twice daily shots, two hospital procedures, three trips a week to the doctor for blood tests and ultrasounds, and worst, the emotional torture. “Will this work? What if it works too well and we have twins, even triplets? What if it doesn’t work at all?” After the longest two weeks of our lives, we were ecstatic by the news from our doctor’s office. “It looks like you’re pregnant!” We were in disbelief, and it took two more positive blood tests for the reality to sink in. I really was pregnant! It was further confirmed by an ultrasound that showed one gestational sac, right where it should be. We cried with relief, and prayed even more fervently that God would protect this baby for nine months and deliver him or her safely into our arms. It wasn’t to be, however, and God took this baby home to heaven with Him at nine weeks. We mourned and grieved for this baby, but knew that no matter how sad we were, God had a different plan for us. There was no apparent reason for this miscarriage, and we quickly debated the idea of doing another cycle of IVF. In the end, we decided that putting the energy and finances into more fertility treatment was not the route we wanted to take. We felt that this second pregnancy loss was our “sign from God,” a sign that a baby from somewhere across the globe needed us more. So on May 8, with excitement and joy, we met with our social worker for the first time to start our adoption from Korea.
At this point, I felt as if we were entering a new time in our lives. A time of hope, of freedom from doctors, medications, and deep emotional and physical stress. A time of peace in knowing that God did have a plan for us. A time of happiness, and real joy that we had previously only had glimpses of. We felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from our shoulders. And it had! Even though our fertility would always be a part of us and our babies would never be forgotten, we were ready to move forward. We were ready to bring our child home.
We began seeing a reproductive endocrinologist that was recommended to us by many people. We liked and respected him immediately, and felt optimistic after hearing his assurances that we could conceive. Through all of our diagnostic testing, the only problem he found was low hormone levels. This was easily overcome with medication, but after three failed cycles with him, we began to wonder if that was the only obstacle.
After suffering through a rare ovarian pregnancy in July of 2007, our treatment became more intense and our emotions more pronounced. We were devastated by our pregnancy loss and unsure of what the future held for us. It was at this point that we began researching and praying about adoption. We decided that we would continue with fertility treatments until we reached the point where we felt that we had done everything we felt comfortable with. We wanted to try at least a few more cycles with our doctor. I had also been pursuing the natural route to fertility—yoga, meditation, acupuncture and herbs, and organic foods in the hopes that this would boost our chances. We did one more cycle, and then decided to “go for the gold.” In the fertility world, this means in-vitro fertilization. We were surprised by our change of heart—we had decided from the beginning that we would not embark on this invasive, expensive, emotionally trying procedure. As we were learning, though, infertility treatments were very addicting. When one cycle failed, there was the hope of a new one that would work. There was always the same thought in the back of our heads, “What if next time is it?” So in January of 2008 we endured (well, I endured) twice daily shots, two hospital procedures, three trips a week to the doctor for blood tests and ultrasounds, and worst, the emotional torture. “Will this work? What if it works too well and we have twins, even triplets? What if it doesn’t work at all?” After the longest two weeks of our lives, we were ecstatic by the news from our doctor’s office. “It looks like you’re pregnant!” We were in disbelief, and it took two more positive blood tests for the reality to sink in. I really was pregnant! It was further confirmed by an ultrasound that showed one gestational sac, right where it should be. We cried with relief, and prayed even more fervently that God would protect this baby for nine months and deliver him or her safely into our arms. It wasn’t to be, however, and God took this baby home to heaven with Him at nine weeks. We mourned and grieved for this baby, but knew that no matter how sad we were, God had a different plan for us. There was no apparent reason for this miscarriage, and we quickly debated the idea of doing another cycle of IVF. In the end, we decided that putting the energy and finances into more fertility treatment was not the route we wanted to take. We felt that this second pregnancy loss was our “sign from God,” a sign that a baby from somewhere across the globe needed us more. So on May 8, with excitement and joy, we met with our social worker for the first time to start our adoption from Korea.
At this point, I felt as if we were entering a new time in our lives. A time of hope, of freedom from doctors, medications, and deep emotional and physical stress. A time of peace in knowing that God did have a plan for us. A time of happiness, and real joy that we had previously only had glimpses of. We felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from our shoulders. And it had! Even though our fertility would always be a part of us and our babies would never be forgotten, we were ready to move forward. We were ready to bring our child home.
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