Understanding Infertility: Post 1

Here we go, into the wild blog yonder. (Sorry)
 
This is the official opening blog for the Fundamentally Flawed book. Each Monday, I will post a new blog that follows the lesson topics discussed in FF. Most of the blog posts will be excerpts from the book, with a few extras thrown in, for good measure. Each month will focus on one Lesson-- convenient, since there are 12 of them. I love it when things work out!
 
For November, I'll be discussing Lesson 1, entitled Understanding Infertility. This is the first post in that series. Lesson 1, post 1... yeah, you get it. First off, a fact:

 7.3 Million US women have an impaired ability to get pregnant.

My Story...

Like most couples, when my husband and I were first married, we excitedly made plans for our future together. Among those plans, inevitably, was when we would start our family. It was important to us even at our young age (I was 20 when we were married) that I be able to stay home and take care of the children rather than place them in daycare. We also knew that we wanted a few years to cultivate our own relationship before we added the dynamic of children. At that point, everything seemed so cut and dry—we would give it about five years, then we would have three children about two years apart. That was our perfect, fail-proof plan.

 Five years came and went, and at last we determined we were financially and emotionally ready to become parents. I remember the first month we decided we were going to try to get pregnant. It was exciting.  I kept thinking of what it would be like to tell my husband I was going to give him a child, to tell our parents they were going to be grandparents; I began to think about how I would decorate the nursery, what hospital I would use, which pediatrician the baby would see… all the typical things a couple starting a family think about.

I knew that first month that the chances of conceiving right away were slim. I had resigned myself to the fact that it would probably take three or four months. But as three months turned into six, then nine, then a year, I began to feel the first twinges of despair.

During our second year of trying to conceive, I began to see an OBGYN for infertility treatment. She began with the determination that I had PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) and immediately prescribed medication. I had a renewed sense of hope when I left her office that day. I thought we had found the solution and that I would soon become pregnant.

About six months passed, and I still had not conceived. The next step was to undergo an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram), a procedure in which dye is injected into the reproductive system, and then an X-ray machine is used to look for any blockages or abnormalities in the fallopian tubes and ovaries. The test revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Everything appeared to be functioning properly. Though this news should have been a relief, it was honestly frustrating. In my mind, if a problem had been found, perhaps it could have been corrected and I could get pregnant. To not be able to conceive when everything appears to be normal seemed to me to be the worst prognosis. There was no specific cause to my infertility, I just WAS.

About this time, I really began to search the Scriptures for answers to my infertility. I had always trusted Him, but I felt as though He was letting me down somehow. My biggest question was:

 “Why did He give me this powerful desire to have a child, but deny me the ability?”

 

I wrestled with this question constantly, as I was sure many had before me. I thought about Sarah, the wife of Abraham and mother of Isaac. She was 90 years old before she finally held a newborn in her arms. Sarah was probably married to Abraham when she was about 13 years of age. That means she waited 77 years—past all hope—for the fulfillment of her deepest longing. Surely, she understood the inner turmoil I was feeling. Surely she too had asked over and over the same questions I had. Surely she too had felt at some point during those long 77 years that God had forgotten about her.

                Had He forgotten me?