Thank you so much for your recent support in writing this blog. Since my last post (although it was too long ago), I have already received dozens of messages and comments about the people out there with broken pieces. I guess we are not that different, even though we have different stories.
So I will pick up the story after my “Black Friday”.
To be honest, the months after that day seem a little blurry now. Almost two years passed between Black Friday and when we finally got a positive pregnancy test. There were ups and downs and everything in between. I wish I would have been writing back then. But it hurt too much to pick up a pen or sit down at the computer at that point. Writing for me is like having a conversation with the deepest part of me. I didn’t really want to hear what I had to say.
Even in the blurriness, I remember a few major events. Right after we got the diagnosis, I got very sick. I had been diagnosed with Crohn’s disease a year earlier and I was still trying to get it under control. I was in and out of the ER and lost about 15 pounds. This is completely unrelated to the infertility, but as you can imagine, it was a rough couple months.
Our first plan of attack with Justin was to see if there was anything they could do for us. Apparently, there is very little research on male infertility. Most of the doctors that we spoke to simply said that they could try a few things, but overall it was a shot in the dark at best. We were referred to a urologist and he suggested that he have surgery for a varococile. I remember throwing up in a trash can at that appointment due to my aforementioned sickness. I thought it must be a cruel joke. Don’t people throw up in trash cans when they have morning sickness? Nope, mine was because I was just sick…right in the middle of an infertility doctor appointment. This was a low point. But not the lowest.I won’t get into all the details about the surgery, but the odds were a 50% chance that it would fix the problem. Of course, insurance didn’t cover it, so we got busy trying to come up with the money. We were so blessed to have help with this from our family and friends. So armed with hope and prayers, we had the surgery. We waited a few months before we got the results. When we got the call, we held our breaths and…
it didn’t work.
When you are going through infertility, you know deep down it is not a short sprint. Until you get a positive test, you know you are still in the marathon. The hardest part is you don’t know how many miles you are in and how many more you have to go. So although I was upset by this result, I knew I had to keep running.
I was furiously emailing my friend for advice and she recommended a local doctor/clinic to me. She also recommend we check out acupuncture. Once the surgery failed, I called and made an appointment at the fertility clinic.
We were so nervous about going to that appointment. We had so many questions and the only answers we had were from books and the internet. But what could this doctor do for us? The waiting room was filled with people that looked just like us (some older) and it was overall very welcoming. They had a board on the wall filled with baby pictures- babies that never would have been born without the help of these doctors. It all felt like a futuristic movie. They called our name, “Justin and Bonnie Kent”. I smoothed my pants, licked my lips, took a deep breath and walked in.