Maybe that first post was a bit much for an opening salvo, especially without any background.
But let’s back this thing up.
Around Christmas some years ago, my wife and I discovered we were pregnant. We had been trying for a bit, so it was very welcome news at a very joyous time. At the end of January, however, we lost the pregnancy.
I don’t think I can describe how devastating it felt. It was hard enough on me, but even harder for my girl. I can still feel the loss, anger, confusion, sadness…it doesn’t really go away completely. Our imaginations ran wild with all the experiences our new family would share…and they were gone. Just like that.
It lessens, but I don’t think it’s meant to disappear.
We soon began trying again. We received hopeful reassurances from wonderful people who either had a miscarriage themselves or knew someone who suffered one and became successfully pregnant immediately afterwards.
It didn’t work that way for us.
Month after month, we would get our hopes up and be let down again.
Overwhelmed with confusion, we schedule another trip to her regular doctor to discuss our troubles. This was confusing to him as well, so he performed a series of in-depth blood tests. We discovered that my wife has something called an MTHFR defect. It’s essentially a genetic defect that causes blood clotting, preventing embryos from attaching to the uterus. One of those things you don’t know about until you look.
First he prescribes a regimen of vitamins. Then he casually lets slip that, in order to combat the MTHFR, there will also be INJECTIONS. Like, syringe and needle, penetrate skin, pokey-pokey injections. Shots. I’m hoping I’ve painted the picture here. I am terrified of needles and shots. My wife has to give herself shots twice daily for a few weeks a month. And if we get pregnant, it’s injections for the full term. I avoid them at all costs and cannot look when I have to get one. She has to stick herself with a needle and inject something that, according to the internet either is or is not some form of rat poison.
And there will be bruising. HOORAY FOR TRIPS TO THE DOCTOR!!
Another reason she is my hero and I love her.
Ladies, you truly are amazing.
So we begin again, encouraged by the doctor’s reassurances.
However, our pattern holds. No baby.
A year later, we return to this doctor frustrated. The first visit he wasn’t too receptive, but the second time he writes down the name of another doctor. You know him by his alias: Dr. Garrison Keillor.
“He’s the smartest man I know,” Doctor Alpha tells us. “His waiting list is about a year long, but call his office and give them my name.”
We take the paper and hold back tears.
“He’s not on any insurance plans. You have to file with your insurance, but he’s the best at what he does and I expect the next time I see you, you’ll be pregnant!”
We leave the office and my lady is dialing furiously. I figure the name dropping thing will take a month or more to get us in the door. I’m more concerned with how we’re going to pay for what may come.
Turns out there was a last minute cancellation for the very next week.
Turns out the insurance process is fairly easy with a minimal out of pocket for us…for now, anyways.
So we make an appointment with Dr. K and go for it.