Note: I’m sharing a part of our story in this post that has only been shared with a small handful of individuals. It’s a part of our story that is extremely personal for me, but I feel burdened to share it with you, in the hope that I can be a support to someone else who is faced with this similar struggle. Please feel welcome to share our blog with a friend or family member who might benefit from reading our personal account. Thank you in advance for allowing me to share this part of our journey with you and for your utmost respect and sensitivity on such a heavy matter.
It was summer 2005, when Brad and I had the “I Think We’re Seriously Ready For Kids” talk in Savannah, GA over a fresh grouper sandwich. We were soaking up marriage and enjoying our time as a couple, yet anxious to hold the title of “parents”.
Lady and Sons Restaurant (Paula Dean’s)Savannah 2005
Looking back now, it might have been a little bit hurried (we’d been married 2 1/2 years), but I really did have that gut feeling that we weren’t in for a “suddenly pregnant” scenario, so I felt pressured to get our journey started. I wanted to be a young, energetic, cupcake-making mommy – and I felt time a’tickin’.
I think my girl doc was waiting on my call by the end of the year. Although I wanted to trust God’s timing, medically the probability of us getting pregnant on our own was extremely slim. Adoption was an option we carefully considered, but weren’t ready to entirely give up on having a “little Brad” or “little Jen”. We felt like this was simply a bump in the road – a common one that so many around us had faced.
We could handle a little bump.
I started researching infertility. Pee on a stick. I joined an online support group, as a “lurker”. Pee on a stick. I would go to the library and discreetly check out books. Pee on a stick. I took my temperature at 7 am, without fail, every morning and carefully charted it on a graph. (If you’ve ever done this, you’ll know what a waste of my time and my precious weekend sleep it was, as it was a completely flat line, no dips, no spikes. FLAT as a pancake!) Pee on a stick.
It was my way of coping with the uncontrollable. It was our private secret and we thought it always would be….
(You can read more Rewinds HERE.)