Tag Archives: Infertility

FINALLY! The Pitter Patter of Little Feet!

This continues the story of our journey to have a family. The time frame for this chapter of our story is September 2007.
If you continue to read along, you will see first hand the reality of how broken the Foster Care system truly is.

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We had gone to all of our classes and received all of our certifications. We had all of our inspections completed. We had our medical exam. We had our TB Test. We had received our FBI background check and fingerprint check back. My husband had received his driving record. Still we waited for my driving record!

FINALLY it came in! Everything was completed! We had graduated and were now officially certified by the state of Texas to be Foster Parents! Now we just needed the children!

One of the first decisions we had already had to make was how many children were we going to get licensed for. This is asked on your original application. I wanted to start with one child. I was still very apprehensive about everything, so thinking about more than one child in the very beginning was unimaginable to me. However, my husband pointed out that by agreeing to take two, our chances of getting children quicker would increase, because we would be available to take sibling groups. This made sense to me, but I still was not so sure about it. I just did not know if I was going to be a good Mommy! And I would be all alone during the day with the child…errrrr… children! In the end, we agreed that we would get licensed to have two children in our home.

Within just a few days of getting my driving record in, we received our first call. I did not even wait to hear the entire situation before I was saying, “yes!” The very next day we would have children! Two little boys!

What should have been the most joyous day of our lives at this point was clouded over by a family crisis. We had been over to my in-laws visiting with them, filling them in on everything that was going on. We left, excited that in just a couple of hours the children would be with us.

On the way home, we had to stop by a friend’s house to pick up a car seat that she was loaning us. We had such short notice that we had not had time to go purchase one.  

As we were getting in the car to head home, my husband’s phone rang. I immediately knew something was wrong. I heard him say, “Don’t wait for an ambulance, get him to the hospital now, I’ll meet you there!”

It was my mother-in-law calling to tell my husband that his dad had collapsed and could not talk, and they were rushing him to the emergency room. I was devastated for several different reasons. Obviously, you never wish that anyone has health issues. I love my father-in-law dearly. I am very close to him. I did not want anything to happen to him. This was my first thought. Then came the realization that the case workers were literally on their way to bring us the children!

I asked my husband if he wanted me to call and cancel the child placement, and he almost screamed, “No!” My friend assured my husband that she would come to the house with me to help me with the paperwork and other particulars in the process of receiving the children.

We raced home, my husband dropped me off, and he took off to the hospital. My friend was right behind me.

The next hour was one of the most nerve-wracking hours of my life.

Child Protective Services (CPS) and our Agency Caseworker arrived with the children. They were two little boys- brothers- 2-years-old and 3-years-old.

Thankfully, our house was only about 3 miles or so from the hospital. My husband ran home from the hospital to sign paperwork, meet the boys, and head back to the hospital to be with his dad. At t his point, things were very touch and go. They had determined that he had suffered a stroke. The outcome would not be known for 24 hours.

They had to make a decision whether or not to give him a drug to counter-act the stroke. There was risk of sudden death with this medication, but this was the only hope of him recovering to any sense of normalcy. Otherwise, if he did not take the drug, it was very unlikely that he would recover, and there was still the possibility of death. The family decided to give him the medication.

Thankfully, his dad has made an excellent recovery. I know this is not something he would have ever wanted to happen, but one thing I have learned through my life is that we are in control of nothing outside of the choices we make. Things happen. The real test of character is how you deal with the things that happen.

Later that night, when things were looking more stable with his dad, my husband came home to spend time with our new children. This was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

As I have written in previous articles, I still tease my husband to this day that he wanted to be a father before he wanted to be a husband. In many ways, though I am teasing him, I do believe that is partially true. His youngest sister was born when he was 14-years-old, so he was a very big part of caring for her as a baby.

My husband was 28-years-old when we got married. He has never been married before, and has no children from previous relationships. So his dream was finally being fulfilled after almost 19 years in the making.

Watching my husband play with these two little boys warmed my heart beyond words. I was enjoying them, and thankfully, my friend had been there to help me with the legal side of things- coordinating the search for marks on their bodies so that could be documented, getting them bathed,  and getting them  settled in for their first night in their new home. As much as I love my friend, she is not my husband. She had been there with me for so much of the process of our fertility journey, but your friend is not the same as your husband. So when my husband got home and joined us, my friend went home. And it was just our little family. Finally!

The thought was almost overwhelming!  In many ways it had been a whirlwind! Though our journey had spanned the course of several years, this process had taken us to the deepest depths of darkness in so many ways. Even tonight- the very first time we were to be called “parents”-  we had a crisis to face. And yet, the bright light shining on my husband’s face and in his eyes as he played with his two sons was absolutely amazing! The most beautiful sound I believe I had ever heard up to this point was the pitter-patter of four little fun running around our home. The giggles were infectious! Finally! Our dream had been realized.

Maybe!

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The Purpose Of  This Series:  Who Hears The Voice Of The Children?

The next chapter in this series: Love Plain and Simple

The previous chapter in this series: Fostering Hope

Foster Care: A Broken System- Video

A Missed Message

This continues the story of our journey to have a family. The time frame for this chapter of our story is 2002-2007.
If you continue to read along, you will see first hand the reality of how broken the Foster Care system truly is.

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I hate tests. It does not matter what kind of test it is or how well I know the information. For some strange reason, I become a bundle of nerves when I have to take a test. So it should not have surprised me when time after time after time I failed this test too! How in the world do you fail a pregnancy test? Well, I figured out how!

You may be wondering how in the world I seem to be making a joke about something so serious. I have learned through this whole process that you have to find humor in all situations. I have not been able to do that in every step of this journey, but when I find something that is remotely funny, I hold on to it for dear life. I guess in some small way this is how I hold on to my sanity. Well, there would be some that would argue that point as well, but it helps me cope!

When we decided that we would go down the road of fertility treatments, we sat down and discussed where we would stop. We knew that we had to have a line firmly drawn in the sand before we ever got started. Just as with anything, if you do not know where you stand before you get into the situation; it is way too easy to keep moving the line for which you say you will not cross. For each couple that line is different. For us, we decided together that we would go no further than the IUI (Inter Uterine Injection). We knew that IVF was out of the question for us. Financially, there was just no way IVF was an option for us. But aside from the financial decision, in our research throughout this journey, we have found out that this procedure is very painful. They actually harvest the eggs from the woman’s ovaries.

My body had already endured so many procedures at this point that I was in pain all the time. I refrained from voicing this to anyone outside of my husband. I tried not to tell him, because I knew that he was very torn. While he wanted children, he did not like to see me going through so much pain. I already had weight issues before we started this process, but the continual medications and hormonal changes sent my weight into overdrive. This was the last thing we needed.  I had to have so many blood tests that I was virtually a walking bruise. I had to have so many sonograms that just seeing a sonogram machine in the hallway made my body tense up.

Early on in our procedures, they discovered that my Estrogen level was extremely low. What this means is that if I did become pregnant, the risk of miscarrying was huge. My body would not be able to carry a baby to term with my Estrogen level so low. So I had to take Estrogen suppositories vaginally after every attempt to get pregnant, just in case the attempt was successful. This process was very messy and felt disgusting. And I had to make sure it was left in as long as possible. So once again, I had to make sure my buttock was elevated for an extended period of time. I started out with one suppository a day, and then increased to two a day. So I was going to bed with a treatment and waking up with a treatment. Remaining graceful during this part of the process was impossible.

I do not give these explicit details for sympathy or shock value. As much detail as I am giving, it does not fully depict the actual experience. For the sake of some semblance of privacy for us, as well as decorum with my readers, I am trying to be as vague as possible. However, to get the real picture, you have to hear some details.

And again, you may be asking yourself, as my friend asked me, why would I go through so much pain? Because we wanted a child. We wanted to be parents.

My friend, though I am quite sure she had the best of intentions, hurt me more than words can say. In the conversation where she was berating my husband for “making” me go through all of this, she told me that I did not need to go through all of this for kids, I could enjoy her kids. While, again, I realize she was trying to help the situation, she had no idea that she was making it so much worse.

We had gotten to the pinnacle of our fertility journey. This was the last procedure. We were at the IUI point. We had decided we would not do more than two IUI procedures. If neither were successful, that was the end of the road for us.

We went in for the procedure.

Unfortunately, this is not at all what I had envisioned as a little girl when I dreamed of becoming a mommy. Going into a doctor’s office, having my temperature taken time and time again, having blood drawn time and time again, having sonograms done time and time again, taking numerous medications time and time again- well, that does not make for the most romantic movie scene.

This experience was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of our journey. First, I had to go through the entire procedure of having a sonogram done to make sure the follicles were the right size to proceed. They were. So on to the next step.

My husband had to make a “deposit” in a cup. Again, not the most romantic experience that you dream of. Add that to the fact that the office was in the middle of moving to another location, so there were boxes stacked all through the halls, examining tables moved out into the hall, people milling around everywhere- all of this while we are in the private “room” (a large restroom with a chair, a TV/VCR combination, and a diverse collection of adult movies and magazines). While we were nervously trying to do what was necessary, there was a very loud bump at the door of our “room”. An examining table had inadvertently been shoved into the door. By this point, we were both ready to get this over with.

After the “deposit” was made, we had to give it to the nurse in the lab. She had to run tests on the “deposit” to make sure everything was good with that side of the procedure. It would take an hour to know if it was or not. So we went to lunch.

After lunch, we went back to the office, and yes, that side was good as well. So off to the examining room we go. My legs go up in the stir-ups yet again. A syringe is inserted into me, and my husband’s sperm is injected straight into my cervix. While it was by no means the most comfortable thing in the world, definitely not romantic or pleasurable, by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was it the most painful experience. After the injection, I had to lift my buttocks off the examining table as long as possible. Then I had to turn on my side, all the while, keeping my buttocks elevated. By the end of the procedure I was sure that I was qualified to join the circus!

After the procedure was completed, we were free to leave. Thank you very much, ma’am! Gives new meaning to the term Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma’am!

So now the waiting begins. We had become quite accustomed to waiting.

And then it arrived. It was one of those dreaded mornings. It was time to pee on a stick yet again.

I went to the bathroom and peed on the stick. And we sat waiting and watching the clock. The five minutes you have to wait for the test results to show on the stick seems more like five hours. But finally the wait was over. We held hands and walked over to the bathroom counter. I am sure we looked like we were taking the walk to the death chamber. Negative.

So we try one more time.

My husband asked me if I was sure I wanted to go through another procedure. At this point I could not even answer him. I ran a bath, and crawled in the hot water. I was hurt. I was angry. And I had to get ready to go to work. I cried. I got angry. I got angry with God and I told Him all about it.

Very few times have I known that God has spoken directly to me. But this day, I knew God had spoken. But I did not like what He said at all! “Be still and know that I Am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

This sent me into a rage. I was having a full conversation- out loud- with God. No, I was not praying. I was ranting. My husband came around the corner of the bathroom and asked me what in the world was going on. I told him I was talking to God.  The look on his face spoke volumes. He knew that I was angry. I told him that God had spoken to me, and what He had said. But when I spoke the words, they came out more as a curse than an acknowledgment or praise of God Almighty. There was heavy sarcasm in my voice as I spat out, “Be still and know that I Am God. What does He mean? Does He think I don’t know Who He Is?” At this point, my husband is almost literally backing away from me. He has no idea why in the world this has upset me. It did not stop there. I was in a very foul mood as I got dressed. At this point, we only had one vehicle, so he drove me to work. As I got out of the car, he kissed me goodbye and wished me  good day. I started up once again, my voice full of sarcasm as I repeated what God had told me that morning.

Did He really not think I knew Who He Is? This truly boggled my mind. And it made me angry. While I have not always lived my life in a Godly manner, I have never doubted the existence of God. For many years of my life I felt that I could never measure up to God’s standards. I knew I could not be good enough. I had tried and failed too many times. I did not know all of those years as I continued to run from God that this is exactly the point. I can never be good enough. None of us can ever be good enough. That is why Jesus had to become our Sacrificial Lamb on the cross. But it was never shown to me in this way, so I did not understand it. But by this point in my life, I did get it. I knew that I knew that I knew Who God Is.

Knowing that I had already gone through the excruciating painful, yet very beautiful journey of discovery God in all of His majesty, glory, mercy, love, and forgiveness, I did not understand why God would be telling me this. Especially on a day like today, when we had yet another let-down in trying to have a child. I know Who God Is. Where is His message of hope and love? Where is His message of encouragement and promises? There was nothing. There was only the reminder that He Is God.

I totally missed the message that day. It was not until many months later, if not a couple of years later that I actually understood what God was telling me that day. Now, this verse of Scripture is one of my favorite. It is one that I hold on to in my desperate hours. It is so important to me that it is posted in two different places in our home.

God IS God. Yes, I understood that. But I did not get the being still part. I am a person who is always on the go. My brother jokes with me that I need to start a “Flutter-ers Anonymous” Group. “Hello, my name is Allenah, and I am a flutter-er. It is a struggle for me to sit and watch a 30-minute TV show. To watch a movie without getting up is next to impossible. I absolutely hate going to the movie theatre. To be confined in one place for so long is excruciating for me.

To me, telling me to be still meant to sit still, physically. While yes, I do believe that is part of the meaning of the Scripture, there is so much more depth that is there. It is not just to be still physically, but to be still spiritually. Do not fret. Do not worry. Know that God IS in control. He knows what He is doing. He has a plan. (Jeremiah 29:11)

To this day, Psalm 46:10 brings a smile to my face. It is a peaceful smile. If my husband and I are together and this Scripture is quoted, there is a knowing glance between us. God did give me a promise that day. I just did not understand it at the time.

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The purpose of this series:  Who Hears The Voice Of The Children?

The next chapter in this series: Facing My Fears

The previous chapter in this series: Dreams Of A Little Girl Shattered…Or Are They?

Foster Care: A Broken System- Video

Dreams Of A Little Girl Shattered.. Or Are They?

This begins the story of our journey to have a family. The time frame for this chapter of our story is pre-2007.
If you continue to read along, you will see first hand the reality of how broken the Foster Care system truly is.

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You were created for a purpose. In fact, each of us was created for a special, unique purpose. Sadly, many of us go through many years of our lives not having a clue what our unique purpose in life is. Unfortunately, too many people never seem to find their unique purpose in life.

If you had told me as little as 4 years ago that my purpose in life was to become intertwined in politics I would have laughed in your face and probably had a few “not so nice” words for you. I absolutely, positively despise politics. I am not a game player, and I see politics as nothing but a huge game at the expense of other people.

I also believe that everything in life that happens, happens for a reason. We may never know why some things happen, but there are other times I believe that it becomes quite evident why something or a series of events happen.

I view my entire life through the lens of believing that every single thing serves a purpose for my specific purpose in life. If I had not lived through the things I have lived through I would not be the person I am. While I am by no means perfect, I am very happy with the woman I have become.

However, it has not always been that way.

I will tell you how it all began… me becoming so intertwined in the very thing I detest so much- politics. This is a very personal and painful story that has spun into what has now become a life-long commitment to shed light on and change a system that is completely broken.

There are a couple of things that most every little girl dreams of. The first is her wedding day. Before she learns to walk in high heels, it is quite likely that she has planned her wedding down to the tiniest detail. She knows what her color scheme will be.  She knows what her cake will look like. She knows what her brides maids dresses will look like. And most importantly, she knows what her wedding gown will look like.

It is not important to her at this point that she has no way of knowing the most important detail- who her groom will be.

Nor is it important to her that she has not given this man, who she has most likely not even met at this point in her young little life, the opportunity to make choices on their very special day.

The wedding day is, of course, all about what the bride wants, right?

Another day that most every little girl dreams of is the day she becomes a mommy. From the earliest age we are given baby dolls so we can prepare to be the best little mother in the entire world!

As a child, my favorite toy was my baby dolls. I was never one to play with Barbie Dolls. In fact, I do not believe I ever owned a Barbie. However, I had countless baby dolls. My dollies and I would play for hours, lost in our little world of make-believe.

I was an odd mixture of a child. I was one who always wanted to be grown up way before my time. And yet, I was perfectly content to play with my dolls, lost in a world that disappears from us way too quickly- childhood.

I crossed over the bridge from being a child to a lady way too young. From the very beginning I had numerous problems that have lasted me my entire lifetime.

When I was about 20-years-old I first heard about Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). I read a magazine article, and they listed all of the symptoms. I had every single symptom! I copied the article and took it to my doctor. She tested me, and told me that no, I did not have it. At the time, very little was known about PCOS. I thought I had the answer, only to be shot down again.

Over the years, I honestly cannot tell you how many doctors I have seen. I am what some would call an anomaly. If there’s a strange health issue, more than likely, I have it. I do exaggerate here, and honestly, I do thank God for my good health. Though I have many issues, I know I could have it a lot worse. So, though I have seen many different doctors, for various different reasons over my lifetime, most of the time my doctor visits centered around the parts of my body that define me as a woman rather than simply a human.

When I was in my early 20’s I was diagnosed with Human Papaloma Virus (HPV). At the time, I was mortified! It is a sexually transmitted disease. It was not until many years later that I would discover that nearly 80% of the population has HPV- and many do not even know they have it.

After it was discovered that I had HPV I began the treatment. There are no words to express the pain involved in the treatment of HPV. I’ve had several different procedures over the years. The first treatment was freezing. They froze my cervix. And then they thawed it out. And then froze it again. And then they thawed it out again. Quite honestly, I cannot tell you what else is involved in the procedure. I know there is something else, but I do not remember. I believe I’ve had the freezing procedure done twice. This procedure is not only painful during the process of the procedure, but the aftermath is almost as bad.

Later, I had the CONE Procedure. This procedure requires that they cut a cone-shaped piece of your cervix out. You only have a local anesthesia. As with the freezing, not only is it very painful during the procedure, but it is also very painful during the healing process as well.

I ended up moving to another state, and had to find another doctor. So the search began yet again.

I went to see a doctor that had been recommended to me. I had such a bad experience with her that I swore I would never go back to another gynecologist.

By this point in my life, I have had so many bad experiences with doctors that I cannot recount them all. This last was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as the saying goes. I finally said enough. No more. I refuse to put my legs up in stir-ups for anyone else! Man or woman, it didn’t matter.

But with the issues I have had over the years, I should have known I would never be able to stick to my word.

When I was in my early 30’s I began having severe pains in my abdomen. I tried to dismiss the pains, but eventually they got so bad that a friend and my husband ganged up on me and insisted that I go to the doctor. I am very thankful that they did, because this doctor diagnosed me with endometriosis. I had to have surgery to address that issue.

After the surgery, I had to be put on medication to put me in chemical menopause for 6 months. I was told exactly what to expect. But in reality, there is no way you can fully grasp what is going to happen. Thankfully, I was prescribed what we called “Happy Pills” during this time. If not, my already bald husband would have been pulling out the stubble. It was no fun at all- for either of us, or anyone that spent any time at all around me.

It was probably around this time in my life where I began to truly feel less of a ________.

You can fill in the blank with many different words. The first word was “woman”. I felt like I was not truly a woman. Not only had I never had children, but now I was going through menopause. Keep in mind I was well informed that the treatment would only last for 6 months, and then I would be off of the medication and have a normal cycle again. I felt less of a person because I could not lose the weight that I needed to lose. 

I am sure at this point you are wondering where my rational thinking was. That’s the point. I was not rational at all.

 I have spoken to other women who have gone through chemical menopause, and the reaction is wide and varied. Mine seems to be one of the most extreme experiences. One of my friends had very little change mentally or emotionally when she had to have the same treatment.

After completing the 6 months of chemical menopause, we began to try to have children. Previously, we had not tried to prevent pregnancy, but it had not been a consistent calendaring of events.

This is where the real fun begins.

After several months of actively trying to conceive, with no results, I went back to the doctor. My doctor told me there was nothing more he could do to help me, I had to help myself. He told me that the endometriosis was taken care of, so the only problem I was having in conceiving was that I needed to lose weight. This would solve the problem.

Almost in tears, I asked him how to do that. His next words infuriated me beyond words. “Just don’t eat so much”. I had to clamp my mouth shut before I went off right there in the office. Sure, he had no problems. He was very fit and slender. It was quite obvious he had not struggled a day in his life with weight issues. And not only that, my husband is very slender and eats twice as much as I do, if not more!

Since he did not feel that he could help me any further, he referred me to his colleague, who is a fertility specialist. Thankfully, I did not open my mouth and say the things that were on the tip of my tongue, because the referral was the beginning of a lot of answers for me.

I was very leery to go to my first appointment with yet another doctor. I could not tell you what number this one was.

When I met the new doctor, at once I was put at ease. He was not slender. He is a plump little man with a smile that warms the room and my heart. He has the bedside manner that I have always dreamt of. During the very first visit, I told him exactly what his colleague had told me and how I felt about him. His response was not at all what I imagined. He said, “Well, yes, losing weight may definitely help- not in just conceiving a child, but in a healthier life. But that may not be the complete answer. As you can see, I need to lose weight too. So, I’ll lose 10 pounds if you’ll lose 10 pounds.” Immediately I was at ease.

Now, honestly, neither of us lost the 10 pounds. But to have him treat me as a person with feelings rather than him ridiculing me made all the difference in the world.

The first thing he did was run a complete battery of blood test. I had told him that I had all the symptoms of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), but they had told me for years that I do not. He looked over my information and agreed that yes, I had every single symptom. When the test results came back, it showed up as negative for PCOS. I started crying, right there on the examining table as he talked to me. He immediately started patting my hand. He assured me that he was going to do the test again. He saw the issues, and was not giving up. So, when the second set of test results came back negative, he told me not to worry, he was going to treat me for PCOS no matter the test results. By this time, he had performed a vaginal sonogram and could actually physically see the cysts on my ovaries with the sonogram. So he diagnosed me, even though the blood test was saying I didn’t have it. This is what makes the difference between a doctor and a good doctor. He actually listened to me! I cannot tell you how many doctors over the years have just shoved me out of the office with a more nutritious eating plan.

I will not tell you I eat the healthiest. But, over the years, numerous times I have made many concerted efforts to eat right, exercise, and lose the weight. Every single time I failed. If I actually lost weight, I would gain it back almost immediately if I ate anything not on the plan. Or, there were even times when I gained weight rather than lost weight, while eating healthier and exercising. Yes, I do realize that muscle weighs more than fat, but I did not gain that much muscle mass in that small period of time. After a while, it becomes very discouraging. You see the scales going up. You are making better decisions in what you eat. And you have no real success. So why try? And you go ahead and eat the unhealthy stuff anyways. It becomes a vicious cycle.

To have someone listen to me, to know that maybe, just maybe, after all these years, there may be some answers, I was excited beyond belief! Yes, it means I am sick. Yes, it means I will have to take medication- possibly for the rest of my life- but hey, it is answers! I’ve gone 15 years or more with absolutely no answers and more frustrations.

It was interesting to find out that the medication that is used to treat PCOS is diabetes medication. Though I am not diabetic, PCOS affects the amount of insulin that is absorbed by your body. When I started the medication, I had a few small side effects but nothing major. It was during this time that my husband and I decided we wanted to go full-scale in trying to conceive a child. So in addition to the PCOS medication, I also started taking fertility medication. Once again, we got on a merry-go-around ride of up-and-down emotions.

After about a year on my medication for PCOS, it suddenly started making me violently ill. My doctor changed my medication and I was on this medication with no problems at all for almost 2 years. Then I started having problems again. I was still taking the fertility drugs as well.

The fertility medication had to be taken at a certain time each month- depending on when your cycle starts. After you finish the medication, you have to go into the doctor’s office to have a sonogram. Depending on what the sonogram shows depends on what you do next. If the follicles are a certain size, you are ready to proceed. If they are not to a certain size, you have to wait a day or so, and go have another sonogram done.

Add to this that your sex-life is no longer determined by when the mood strikes you and your spouse, you now watch the calendar. You count days. You know when you “have” to have sex in order to conceive. It does not make for a romantic setting, to say the least.  While my husband and I have always had a very healthy sex life with no complaints on either side, it became a dreaded thing when we had to schedule sex for the sole purpose of having a child. The enjoyment seems to disappear when you both know that in the back of your mind you are wondering if this is going to be the time you are finally successful.

Studies have proven that the most sexual organ of our body is our mind. If our mind is not there, then you are simply going through the motions. I never truly understood this until we had to schedule our love life. While previously, a phone-call inviting a noon-time rendezvous was very exciting, it now became a burden for both of us. It was not at all that we did not enjoy being with each other anymore. We both just knew that the purpose of our love-making was very specific during these appointments.

Needles to say, this process becomes quite expensive very quickly. Most health insurance policies do not cover fertility treatments, so this comes out of your pocket. In less than 6 months we spent almost $10,000.

I have had people ask me why we have gone through so much to have children. If you are one of those people who are very blessed, and you can conceive without any difficulty, then there is no possible way you can understand. If you have not walked in these shoes, there is no way you can know the emotional agony.

When my husband proposed to me I told him there was no way I could marry him, because I knew there was a big possibility I would not be able to have children due to all my medical problems. He is the most genuine, most matter-of-fact, most black-and-white view of things people I’ve ever met. I had seen him interact with children, and I had heard him talk about spending time with his nieces and nephews, so I knew he loved children. I still tease him to this day that I think he wanted to be a father before he wanted to be a husband.

When I told him that I did not know if I could have children, his response was that there is always adoption. That thought had never occurred to me with him, because it was not an option at all in my first marriage.

Even with the thought that we could adopt a child, I still saw it as impossible because we are not wealthy people. By this point we had spent well over $12,000 or more in our quest to become parents. I knew that adoptions were not cheap by any stretch of the imagination.

One of every little girl’s dreams for me had been shattered. I was not going to be a mommy. Or… was I? Sometimes things are not always as they seem.

Little did I know that lives were about to take a dramatic turn.

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The purpose of this series:  Who Hears The Voice Of The Children?

The next chapter in this series: A Missed Message

Foster Care: A Broken System- Video