Throughout our life we make promises. Some are easy to fulfill and other times, they may be almost impossible.

When my husband and I were first married, having children was not something we were considering. Well, we were only twenty years old. We had a lot of growing to do and too much to experience before we became parents, so we thought.

It wasn’t until years later, after a few adventures and a little maturing, we decided that we were ready for parenthood. Well, like most of us, we think if we are ready for something that it will just happen.

Sadly, it does not always turn out that way. Too many times we make decisions without including God. We think we are ready and that He will support us and go along with what we want. I mean, we are His, why would he not want to see us have what we want?

My husband and I tried for a couple of years without success. I was a nurse that worked the nightshift. I worked in a small hospital and on a slow uneventful night, I found a magazine that discussed a “topic” along with infertility.

The topic was “endometriosis”. I had never heard of it.

The more I read the more I just felt this was me. All these symptoms I was enduring and had since I was a teenager. I was so elated to finally have an answer to what I was going through. My provider came to make rounds that early morning prior to the end of my shift, I pulled him aside and asked if this could possibly be what I have, as I was seen regularly, as the pain was sometimes unbearable. He did not think so as I was too young.

When you consistently see a doctor for symptoms, a person gets to be known as a troublemaker.  I know, I called once and I heard his nurse say in a very condescending tone, “Guess who, again? I stopped calling for a while, as I was known as a nuisance.

I missed out on so much because of the pain prior to or after my periods. I didn’t ride in the truck, tractor, ATV with my husband, as every bump tore me apart. I would decline outings if it was anywhere close to my cycle, as I knew I would be in tears.

I left my job and took a job in another town. I was there for only a mere 4 months, as there were reasons they had 100% turnover, but I know the true reason why God had me take that job. It was there that the receptionist saw me one day after taking a patient back to a room. She saw the sweat beads above my lip. She saw how pale I was. She could tell how much pain I was in. That minute, she called her Gynecologist and made me an appointment. She was a godsend. I still to this day thank God for her and for Him for putting me where I needed to be for help.

I saw the Gynecologist and as soon as the examination and the blood work were complete, I had an appointment to be seen by a specialist in a city a little over 3 hours away.

I was seen and a procedure was scheduled within a few weeks. I went through a laparoscopy, in which they were able to see what was going on inside. Normally, for an exploratory laparoscopy, when the gas is inserted into the abdomen all the organs float, nope, not mine. My organs were all tied down with “endometriosis” tissue.

The specialist came out to my husband and told him that I had the worst case of endometriosis that she had seen in a twenty-seven-year-old, that was saying a lot for a woman in her profession. They were able to laser what they could see and to release my organs, but there was too much, and she knew they could not have gotten it all.

After my recovery period, I started a medication that was to “shrink” whatever endometriosis that was not able to be lasered. This medicine was a shot that was given to men for prostate cancer, in which was covered by insurance for men, but not for me.

This medicine took away my hormones. I was a woman in my twenties going through all the symptoms that a menopausal woman would have. Yes, all the symptoms. I was miserable. I did three cycles of this medicine.

After going into menopause, my body was told then that it could be young again and yet again, my body decided to do its own thing. I did not experience a period for a long time. More drugs were given to “wake up” my hormones.

Finally, a cycle came and then I was given more drugs to produce and release eggs. Only to find that it was not impressive enough, so the next cycle I started on fertility shots. If it wasn’t for the inconvenience of paying boo Koo bucks on shots, finding someone to be able to give them to me at the same time every day was not the easiest, but I was in luck to have a nurse as a neighbor. I also had to leave my work daily to go to a clinic that could do an ultrasound to see how many eggs I had in that cycle and to measure them. My husband and I were very adamant about not wanting to have selective reduction, as we both knew that was not for us. Knowing that, our specialist knew she had to be very careful with our cycles.

On our second cycle, we had multiple eggs that were the size expected for fertilization, I was informed that we would have to “forego” that cycle, as she did not want to risk the chance of having multiples take. I was furious. It was the longest cycle. I even had to “up” my dose of the fertility medicine during this cycle, which included getting a script and having it shipped from Paris, as it was cheaper. When the medicine arrived, I had to go to a town a little over an hour away to pick it up from a Fed Ex warehouse. It was crazy. I was angry that with all the monitoring and blood work, this had happened.

Hormonal was an understatement.

The next cycle was the “ticket”. We drove to our very early appointment to see our specialist. A few weeks later I did a pregnancy test just as scheduled. We were pregnant. Our next few weeks were spent doing bloodwork, ultrasounds, and watching and waiting on a heartbeat. Pure torment and then, one week it was just there. It was the sweetest, most precious thing I had ever seen. I held onto those ultrasound photos. I carried them everywhere I went.

Our miracle baby.

A few weeks later, I woke early to learn that I didn’t feel the same as I had the day before. We drove to our OB/Gyn’s office, to see our little miracle no longer had a heartbeat.

God needed him. God knew. He just knew, but it didn’t hurt any less.

This was just the beginning of my bargaining, my pleading, and my promises.