When we first decided to start "trying" to have a baby, I thought I'd be pregnant in a few months. A year later I still wasn't pregnant. After a year and three months my doctor told me if I didn't get pregnant very soon, we were going to have to make some decisions. So we stepped it up a notch. I had calendars and ovulation monitors and charts all over the place. It was all very romantic.
After some charting and testing, we quickly found out that I only ovulate 4-6 times a year (sorry guys . . . you can cover your ears or eyes as the case may be). Not exactly great odds when you're trying to get pregnant. Thankfully, we were able to pinpoint the right time frame, and I was pregnant relatively quickly after we figured out what was going on. But in that last stretch before I got pregnant, I made a decision. If I couldn't get pregnant then so be it, but there was no way I was pumping my body full of hormones and dragging my husband through the experience of forcing my body to ovulate. It wasn't a judgment on anyone else's decision. Actually, I admire women that can handle it, but for me, I knew that it would be too much. Hormone fluctuations and Courtney are not friends . . . not at all. I was okay with adopting. I was okay with someone else carrying my baby for nine months as long as the end result was the same.
Fast forward 34 weeks and 6 days. I had had a relatively uneventful pregnancy. My weight gain was good. I was walking everyday. Blood pressure was perfect. Andrew was growing fast and had his little tooshie right in my ribs. I was miserable, and uncomfortable, and couldn't sleep at night because of leg pain. Pretty much your run-of-the-mill third trimester. Then I started hemorrhaging. And not just a little. The placenta was separating prematurely, and both my life and Andrew's life were at risk. At exactly 5 weeks before my due date, I had an emergency c-section and delivered the most perfect little boy I've ever seen.
In the days that followed, with the help of my doctor, we began to piece together what had happened (as much as we could). What had happened to me happens in less than 1% of all pregnancies, and I had none of the risk factors. Once you have a placental abruption the chances of having another one increase to between 15-20%, and the doctor explained that in a case where no cause can be identified the risk may even be higher. Then she said, "But if you want to have another one in a couple years, I'll be there with you. It will be a high risk pregnancy, and you will be on bed rest for the last 10 weeks or so, but the decision is yours."
I made the decision almost immediately that I wasn't ever going to be pregnant again. I just didn't (and still don't) think it's worth it. I can't sit still for 10 minutes let alone 10 weeks. And the worry and risk that comes with another pregnancy just wasn't something I wanted to deal with. Many women have made the decision to give it another go, and I, once again, am in no way passing judgment. This is a decision that has to be made by each individual couple. There is no blanket answer, and the right choice for me may be the wrong choice for you. Still, even though I felt confident with the decision and Patrick was 100% supportive, I had to come to terms with the fact that I would never carry another baby inside of me. When it comes down to it, the only thing I think I'll really miss is the kicks. I loved the kicks and flips and jabs. They always made me laugh. I cried some, and let myself feel sad for a while, then I decided it was time to let it go and move forward. And the truth is, I've never looked back.
Unfortunately, I also had to come to terms with the fact that not everyone was going to be supportive. I had people say that I "gave up on God" and "needed to trust more". To tell you the truth, these statements were incredibly hurtful to me. They were made by people close to me, and when I first heard them, they devastated me. With time, I've realized that not everyone is going to understand. It's very hard to understand when you're on the outside looking in. I feel like we're on the path that God wants us on today. I'm not saying He caused the complications. I don't believe He did. In retrospect, I believed He protected us from what could've been a huge nightmare. I also believe that He gave us a way through all of this, and we have the honor and privilege of going down a path not many get to travel. Sometimes it terrifies me that I can't see around the next bend more less miles down the road, but I know Who created this path. As the saying goes, I may not know what tomorrow holds, but I know who holds tomorrow.