I was 19 when my father walked me down the aisle. In my head, I knew exactly how things would go. We would have already gone off birth control and and trying to get pregnant on our honeymoon. In nine or 10 months we would have an offspring. I would snap wonderful pictures of my parents holding my first born child. We would have our second child a year or two later. It would of course be the opposite sex of our first child. Preferably the first one would be a boy and the second a girl. We would have this cute house not too far from my parents. I would continue working at my fulfilling job. My husband would continue to be promoted at his job. Things would be just perfect.
But, who at 19 thinks that they would encounter infertility? Due to my age, it was two years before I was looked at seriously by a doctor.
January 2001, those two lines I had been waiting for each month finally showed up. I got to tell my parents they would be grandparents. I was trying to be patient as I waited for our first appointment. When we were seen at the end of January, the ultrasound indicated a miscarriage in its final stages. On February 4th, my father died suddenly.
We took a break from infertility treatments as my heart was just not there. We discussed adoption. We discussed foster parenting and started the process. We slowly moved on. We buried ourselves in our church. We were starting to feel normal again.
As we were getting closer to the end of the foster parenting process, there were some hiccups. Our church had a sudden and nasty split between the members. I remember getting the call that “I am sorry your schedule is not conducive to a foster child.” I remember calling my Pastor and telling him that I couldn't handle him walking away from the church too. He assured me he was not. I remember being comforted by that second phone call. The next day I found out that he was not walking away, he had been fired.
That night, I realized it had been a long time since I had my period. Could it be? It was. Two glorious lines. Instantly. Due to our early miscarriage, I was seen right away. Luckily, our peanut had a strong steady heartbeat!
Months later, we were holding our first child. I got some great pictures of my mom holding my daughter. It had been almost two years but the pain from my father's loss was so acute that day. I had no pictures of the two of them.
From my experience with infertility and loss, I learned that everything will happen when it needs to, despite it not always happening when we want it to.
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