There is a part of me that wants to write this off, sweep it under the rug, and tell myself none of it really mattered. And because I know that is neither true nor healthy, I am choosing to share my story here rather than dismiss it or hide it.
I am often able to make better sense of jumbled thoughts and emotions when I put them in writing. Soooo here goes...
Way back in April, I called to set an appointment with an OBGYN to talk about the possibility of a donor insemination pregnancy. As a new patient, they could not get me an appointment until July 20th. I nearly talked myself out of it and cancelled that appointment, assuming my age or my weight would be a deal-breaker, but I decided to go through with it and at least ask the question -- knocking before just assuming the door would be closed.
That first doctor was surprisingly positive about it all, and she referred me to OU Reproductive Medicine where they actually do the IUI (intra-uterine insemination) procedure. She said to go ahead and stop taking birth control, but that it was unlikely I would get in at OU before October...
Yet when I called, they had a cancellation and offered me a next-day appointment in July!
I met with Dr. Blake Evans, who was very respectful, kind, and helpful. We talked through the entire process, and he answered all my questions. The first step was drawing blood for lab tests, checking for any issues via ultrasound, and changing a couple medications to pregnancy-safe options. My Tulsa doctor met with me virtually and made the medication changes happen very quickly, the ultrasound went well, and my labs all came back negative for me being a carrier of any genetic disease or condition. I was already taking Prenatal vitamins, so it was all systems go!
Step two was choosing a sperm donor, a slightly stressful but mostly interesting process. After looking at several profiles online and praying over it, I chose a man who is a Christian, ENFP, surgeon, 6'3", blue eyes, brown hair, runner with good genes (not a carrier for any known medical conditions - harder to find than I expected). I knew an absurd amount about him along with his entire family's medical history, but still do not know his name or have an adult photo. However, he was an ID-disclosure donor, which means the child could have his information and contact him when he or she turns 18, and I loved that for lots of reasons. I already had plans to make a scrapbook for him to have then too. lol
Of course, my immediate family members were very much on board and supportive of this plan from the beginning (minus the kids, who remain appropriately unaware of it). I eventually shared this with my cousin, Kristin, and Lindsay Johnson, who were also very supportive and excited with and for me. I kept it very private for the same reason couples tend to keep early pregnancy news private -- not because I do not trust others, but because I wanted to avoid the possibility of having to repeatedly announce disappointing news to several different people who were excited and hopeful with me -- it adds to the emotional gravity of it, which was already fairly heavy. Still, as soon as I got the final no today, I needed to write, and I felt more freedom to share it. It's a strange dynamic that sharing grief with others feels easier than sharing hope and longing when the outcome is uncertain.
Between the family support and five doctors being positive and encouraging about it and everything lining up so smoothly with all of my medications and labs and appointments, I really felt like God was opening the door here... I prayed consistently for God's will to be done, but my hopes were high. I chose baby names with wonderful meanings that I love (Valorie Noelle and Caleb Levi), and I had a vague, lovely plan for how I might announce it both individually and publicly.
For the record, I was drawn to this option after receiving several letters from the adoption agency about birth moms who admitted to using alcohol and/or drugs throughout their entire pregnancies, yet they still would only consider letters and adoption books from two-parent adoptive families. It was very disheartening. My faith in the DHS system is minimal at best, and I want a situation where the parent is *choosing* adoption and *choosing* me rather than being forced into it by the State and feeling irrationally angry with the woman they believe "stole" their child. And while I firmly believe Jesus is able to bring healing in every life, of course I would love to have a newborn baby who had *not* already suffered the traumatic effects of their parents' addiction, abuse, abandonment, neglect, poverty, death, or other hard circumstances. There is no way for any parent to control everything, and I fully understand that. I am sure some would call this a selfish decision, which makes me feel an obnoxious need to defend it, but I believe my motives were right in pursuing a pregnancy. Either way, my experience is unique, and I don’t expect everyone else to understand it or agree with all my choices.
At my initial consult, Dr. Evans told me that if a woman does not "achieve a pregnancy" within four cycles of IUI, they would start fertility testing and talk about other possible options. What I felt peace about then (and now) was that I would pray over it and try four times and take it as a closed door if it did not happen for me.
The next step was taking Clomid to increase ovulation... followed by ovulation tests, ultrasounds, and blood work (always rough times for me as they struggle to find the veins), giving myself an HCG shot, then coming in for the IUI procedure (unpleasant, but brief and relatively simple). The first round of IUI was on September 6th, then October 6th, then November 5th, then December 3rd. Sadly, that meant that I got my pregnancy test results on my moving week, Thanksgiving week, and this weekend before Christmas, making those happy events feel a bit bittersweet. So it has been nine months of moving toward this goal, eleven doctor appointments, four IUI cycles, four emotional cycles of hopes and disappointments, major medication changes and all the physically taxing things that come along with that, LOTS of praying for God to open the right doors and close the wrong ones, and taking at least 12 negative pregnancy tests. Which means (as of this morning's negative test), I am considering it a closed door on the possibility of a biological child. Kind of a hard/surreal sentence to write.
How I feel right now: Disappointed, but not devastated. Mildly exhausted and numb. Wondering how long I might have a "nursery" room with no baby. Wishing this was all less expensive and far less complicated. Aware of the need to guard my heart from a depressing emotional spiral. Simultaneously aware of God's gentle voice in the secret, sacred places in my heart. Very THANKFUL that God opened certain doors and that I had the courage to try this so I will not have to face the future regret of always wondering what if... I'm already aware of some reasons this particular no may be for the best right now. So I'm not in tears or freaking out about it, but not entirely certain about where to go from here now either. I am going to take some time to pray and process it all.
Embryo adoption may still be a possibility - I have one family member who conceived a child through donor insemination and another who conceived via embryo adoption, and I'm so grateful for the way their stories have strengthened me and given me more insight here. (Embryo adoption would still involve trying for a pregnancy with a much higher success rate, but the child I carried would not have my genetic DNA. It is undoubtedly the form of adoption that involves the least trauma to the child, which makes it worth considering.) There is also one potential adoption situation currently in play, but a lot of unknowns and pieces that would need to fall into place perfectly for that to actually happen -- it's possible, but not probable -- so again, I'm praying for God's will and timing. And since this is not the only dream I am pursuing, I have felt understandably stressed about the thought of taking on the responsibilities of work + grad school + single motherhood. So it is possible that I need to breathe and wait in one area or another rather than pushing for everything all at once... But the great news is I don’t have to figure anything out today, and it’s best not to make big decisions when you’re emotional… grace, mercy, and rest.
At every appointment I had with OURM, when it wasn't displaying the ultrasound imaging, the screen had a continually scrolling blue message saying, "Every day holds the possibility of a miracle." I loved that, and I absolutely still believe that. I am not on this journey alone. God sees me and He cares about my heart right now in this quiet, hollow disappointment. He is good and He has a plan to work everything together for our good and for His glory, so I will keep seeking Him for what comes next!
The photo below is the hallway where you exit that doctor's office downtown. Three bulletin boards filled with joyful birth announcements of babies these doctors helped people who really wanted to be parents conceive... I love it and always take a minute to stand there and soak it all in -- it is beautiful and hopeful and precious! ❤ We face real pain and trauma and disappointment in this life, but there is also great beauty, joy, love, and hope!!! Both matter deeply here, but only the good things will last eternally! I am holding on to that right now.
I wish I were celebrating exciting news today rather than writing this post and letting go of a long-held hope. I feel better for writing this out, though. What a whirlwind year of change this has been! I am ending this post with an overused church cliché, but it rings true for me right now: I am not sure what the future holds, but I know God holds the future. And that is enough for now.
Thanks for 'listening,' friends and fam.
❤ Lindsey
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