The climax. . .

Unfortunately, the climax to this story isn’t what I anticipated it to be. I can remember this exact moment as if it was yesterday. It came and went within a week. That’s right a whole 7 days of pure bliss because for the first time in my life the words “you’re pregnant” was actually happening to me. That meant every fear, needle, and all the mental torture I put myself through was finally worth it. I, Amanda Raser, was on top of the world and felt like nothing could spoil this incredible feeling I spent years dreaming about. At that point I had no idea what was coming. No clue that these feelings would soon disappear as if they were never there at all.

It quickly went from one of the greatest weeks of my life to my entire world crashing and burning down on me within a moments time. I couldn’t breathe. There was nothing I could do besides let fate take its course. The room was so cold as my body shivered and the pit in my stomach just kept getting deeper. How could this be happening to me? I asked myself over and over as my sheets pooled up with blood. The doctor came in the room and discussed what she felt was happening to my body based on my symptoms. With every word that rolled off her tongue I could feel myself falling apart. Something like this wasn’t supposed to happen or at least not as fast as it did.

Two empty sacs and no heartbeat had to be the hardest pill I ever had to swallow in this journey. That meant the two embyros we transfered successfully implanted but for whatever reason never turned into life. Even though their time spent with me was cut short they still meant everything to me. I will now always wonder who my two embyros could and should of been. There are no reasons why or at least that’s what I was told because of how early we were. At this point I must hold on to the thought that everything happens for a reason. Like maybe there was chromosome abnormalities? Or just my body wasn’t meant to hold multiple babies? Either way I hold onto that notion so I dont lose myself in the madness of this awful path that has chosen me. I must admit it does help sometimes but since that day my heart hasn’t hurt any less.

Miscarriages happen to 1 in 4 woman and half of the time the reasons are unexplained. No matter what the reason was or how early it occured, a loss is a loss. The brokeness that it creates in your heart will more than likely never heal and the wondering of what could of been just won’t subside. Just the fear of trying again will make it difficult to remain hopeful from the worry of it happening all over again.

“When you carry a life and it’s there and then gone, a part of your soul dies. Forever.” -Casey Wiegand


The never ending middle. . .

In most stories the middle holds all the juicy details or in my case the hardest part of the entire journey; the waiting game. From the time I was diagnosed with infertility to now it seems like a lifetime has passed when in actuality it’s only been just shy of 4 years. Maybe it’s all the time and prepping in between cycles that has made it feel like father time despises me or the fact that every corner I’ve turned a curveball has been thrown full force at me. All I know is that I’ve grown to hate the middle and if wasn’t for my ending including a baby I would have given up a long time ago.

In order to understand my middle I need to go back to the beginning which was one of the many worst days of my life. We had seeked a second opinion after being put through the ringer with my first reproductive endocrinologist. I can remember this specific day like it happened this morning. It was the day my doctor told me I needed to have a total fallopian tube removal because my infertility diseases progressed causing my tubes to be blocked, diseased, and no longer functionalable. Accepting this in my early 20’s had to be the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. This meant from that moment on in order for me to ever become a Mother I was solely dependent on science and my doctor.

The prepping for the retrieval part of the IVF process was the WORSE. Because I have Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome my body went into overdrive with the stimulating hormones and produced over 50 eggs due to over stimulation. This landed me a straight ticket to the ER where I had to endure one of the most scariest procedures of my life. After all said and done five ended up being the lucky number of embyros that made it to freeze which gave us the green light to begin prepping for a FET.

Our first Frozen Embryo Transfer came, went, and failed like it never happened at all. The second one was much, much different because it created a new beginning or a moment in life where the person I once was no longer existed. We got pregnant. It was the first time I ever felt whole and completely on top of the world. We finally crossed that finish line and it felt beyond what I ever expected it to feel.

And then just like that it was gone forever…

“When we lose one blessing, another is often most unexpectedly given in it’s place.” – C.S. Lewis

The beginning. . .

We all have multiple beginnings. Or what I like to call moments in life that sculpted you into the person you are today. For some it might be a tragedy that occured, where others could say the day you met a special someone, or the time you were diagnosed with a terminal illness. No matter what type of beginning you’ve endured your life was changed and hasn’t been the same since.

When I think about the types of beginnings I’ve been exposed to over the last 27 years there is no wonder why I am the way I am. A broken home growing up with unhappy parents, being forced to move months before starting high school, being sexually assaulted by a “popular boy” as the new girl, meeting my high school sweetheart, total loss of our house to an electrical fire, being diagnosed with infertility at 24 with a total fallopian tube removal, and having my first miscarriage a year ago. These are my seven beginnings. Seven moments in my life that have shaped, altered, and created the unbreakable tough shell around my core.

With all beginnings there must be an end or at least that’s what were taught. Luckily for me the worst of my beginnings came, did their damage, and then later resolved themselves. Besides for one. The one that has kept me up at night for 3 years, 8 month, and 21 days. My undenying wish to become a Mother.

To be continued. . .

“The things you take for granted, someone else is praying for.”