A Bit of History

I kind of hit the ground running there, so perhaps I should backtrack. Take it down a notch for a second?

About Christmastime two 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. Near 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 seem to go away completely. It lessens, but I suppose it's not meant to disappear.

We soon began trying again, clinging to hopeful reassurances from wonderful people who either, had a miscarriage themselves or knew someone who suffered one, but became successfully pregnant immediately afterwards.

It didn't work that way for us.

Month after month, we would get our hope up and be let down again. And again. And again.

We finally made another trip to her regular doctor with 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 a MTHFR defect. It's essentially a rare 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.

So he puts her on a regimen of vitamins and, here's an example of how she's my hero, injections. She has to give herself shots twice daily for a few weeks a month; if we get pregnant, for the full term. Now, I'm terrified of needles and she's injecting herself two times a week for our family. I don't know that I could do it.

We begin again, fueled by hopeful encouragements from the doctor about the success of the treatment. But once more, our pattern is hope followed by disappointment.

Almost a year later, we return again to this doctor and voice our frustrations. The first time he wasn't too receptive, but the second time he gives us Dr. Keillor's name.

"He's the smartest man I know," Doctor One 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 girl is dialing furiously. I figure the name dropping thing will get us in the door around a month or so at least. 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 go for it.