As you're shopping in the mall for Uncle Buck's gift, you pass the mall Santa with chubby-cheeked children sitting in his lap whispering gift ideas in his ear and mugging for the camera. For those suffering through infertility, this time of year can be especially painful, as I remember all too well.
Christmas of 2000 was not one of my best memories. Around mid December, I got the news from a routine ultrasound that there was a slight marker that should probably be followed up on (a slight thickening of the nuchal fold). I was told not to worry too much about it - that this showed up in some Down syndrome pregnancies, but that this was only one marker and the odds were slim that anything would be wrong. I decided to schedule a CVS (chorionic villus sampling, a sampling of the placental lining) to rule out any worries. What followed was weeks of waiting/worrying (the cells from the first amnio were slow-growing). Finally, I got the call that is every one's worst nightmare. The results were in, and my baby had two separate severe chromosomal abnormalities (Trisomy 13 *and* an extra marker chromosome). I scheduled an amnio to confirm the results, as the doctor told me that in a small number of cases, only the placental cells are where the damage is (perhaps not the fetus) and that the amnio would be totally conclusive. The amnio confirmed my worst fears. I was advised by my doctor/genetic counselor to end the pregnancy, as these two abnormalities combined were a death sentence for my baby and a risk to my life (the placenta was so damaged, there was a chance it would tear off and I could bleed to death). What followed was the worst Christmas and worst choice of my life.
I'd always loved Christmas, but each Christmas that followed was enveloped in sadness. I was experiencing multiple early miscarriages that I was sure were punishment for my decision. Christmas would never be the same for me. I went through the motions each year and tried to put on a good face for my other two children, but the emptiness inside was eating me alive.
Somehow, I garnered the strength to keep trying, kind of like the Little Engine that Could. "I think I can, I think I can" became my motto. My life became a constant cycle of miscarriages and failed infertility treatments.
It is Christmas 2003, and I've recently undergone my second IVF attempt (first one resulted in miscarriage). I don't have my hopes up like I did with the first IVF. I am being a realist. End of November/early December, I find out I'm pregnant again. Don't let myself get excited, don't want to set myself up for more disappointment. The weeks and months pass by. The baby decides to stay for a while. I have an amnio, and the chromosomes are normal. Too good to be true. Something bad will happen, I'm sure. A cord accident toward the end, perhaps. July 29 of 2004 is my scheduled c-section date, and my nerves are fried. Please just get this baby to the finish line.
December 25, 2004 :
*** PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP HOPE ***
