“When people ask us how we first met we always tell them, ‘it’s a funny story.’ And really in a way it kind of is. We had a mutual friend who is a bit goofy, I worked with her and my husband is best friends with her husband. She kept insisting on us meeting but the only thing she could tell me about him was that he’s a good guy, he likes American Horror Story and writes horror books. Which in all honesty didn’t scream out to me, ‘this is the guy for you, go get him!’ And as for my husband she could only tell him I was nice and funny. And it seems she was right because six years later we’re happily married and we can’t get enough of each other. In the begining of our marriage the only thing we fought about was where things went in our apartment. We got through the hard times together and it kept making us stronger as a couple. But every marriage has its ups and downs and our challenge became infertility.
We both have always wanted to start a family of our own and we both wanted a minimum of two children. My husband wanted more than three and for me I was happy with a maximum of three. When we first started trying we figured it would be as simple as not using protection, then six months went by and nothing happened. My husband being the book worm he is, did some research into a few herbal methods to help regulate my period. It worked so we tried again and another six months went by and again nothing happened. That was when we got a little concerned and sought out a doctor. But little did we know the journey of pain and tears that awaited us.
When my husband and I realized our journey into parenthood was going to be problematic, we knew we truly needed one another. You would think something as simple as trying to bring a baby into the world wouldn’t cause too many issues. There was a time in our young marriage where tensions were high and the arguments became more frequent. And where my husband got more comfortable on the couch than he did in our bed. It got so bad that on the days we were supposed to do bedroom tango we couldn’t do anything but lay in bed with our backs towards each other. We would sit there in our room, both of our phones in our hands watching separate videos. The only sound that bounced on our bedroom walls were from the whispers of our earbuds and we simply ended our time together with a simple, ‘goodnight.’ Our minds had become so focused on trying to have a baby the thought of being intimate just for the purpose of intimacy no longer existed. We had grown tired of tracking ovulaion, timing intercourse and as the months went by it became more of a chore than expressing love. Every month the more we tried the less intimate we became and before we knew it the spark that was always there was gone. We were tired of the tears, the medications, the negative tests, the stress and arguing over small insignificant things. And then we became tired of each other and the rift that had come between us was on the verge of ruining our marriage.
Then one day it finally clicked for both of us, we were both in pain and we were struggling the same way. The only difference between us was the way we were handling the pain. Our minds had become so locked into having a baby to love we forgot to love each other. The more we worried about infertility and getting pregnant the less we realized we were creating a wall between us. For me it was the feeling of being broken and that I would never become a mother. I thought I was letting my husband down as well, I could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his voice and feel it in his heart that he wanted to be a father. As for him he felt my pain in a different way, he saw how crushed I was and he felt there was nothing he could do. He felt his words were becoming empty and he began to feel the pressure of trying to fill the void. We cried in different rooms so that we could avoid seeing the pain of one another. We began to feel we no longer understood one another. The more I saw my friends with their baby bumps or their children the less of a woman I felt. And the more my husband saw fathers with their children he felt he wouldn’t be able to feel that love. The more we looked outward at what other people had we began to feel that their reality would never be ours.
And the day we cried together everything changed. We realized in order for us to properly love and care for a child, we must find the love we felt for one another. We had to tear that wall down and use those heavy bricks to create a new foundation. One that we could build off of and grow together. We shifted our mental focus from always trying to have a baby. To realizing our child would need to see their mother and father were a team. They would need to see how strong we were together and how when one of us falls the other is there to pick them up.
Do you know what it’s like to marry your best friend? It means you still tell each other silly secrets, you still play pranks on one another. Date nights can mean a large popcorn your husband has to remember is for both of you to share while you watch the movie. It means you tell each other what’s going on and what you’re truly feeling. My husband at first didn’t realize the pressure he was putting me under. And I never realized what I was putting him through as well but once we opened our mouths and told one another, the biggest weight was lifted off our shoulders. We both were a bit overweight and we tackled it together; I am down sixty pounds and my husband has lost over seventy. We wanted to help increase our chances of conceiving and for overall health. But if I was to get pregnant we wanted the weight gone to help decrease the chances of complications. We both picked up a set of kettle bells and when we work out we do it together.
After three years of meeting different Reproductive Endocrinologists and having them just feeding me fertility drugs and nothing else, we found a doctor who sees us as people and listens. Within the first week of meeting him he has done more than any other doctor in the past three years. He found I have a gene mutation called MTHFR which is treatable. It was also the cause of my early chemical pregnancies. My periods for the past two years have been right on the nose, if my tracker says my period is on Monday by Sunday night I feel it coming. But then there were those times it didn’t come and a faint line on a pregnancy test did. We would track the darkness of the test by taking multiple as the days went on. They would get darker, aunt flow was weeks late and then she would come back with a vengance. And the test would have only one solid line. Due to my husbands ‘super sperm’ count we’ve yet to venutre to an IUI with our current RE. He feels that treating the MTHFR mutation is key to our success of staying pregnant and while we haven’t tried IVF yet it’s still on the table as an option.
The best way to fight infertility is together; at your first ultrasound appointment. You hear the rapid rhythm of small precious life growing inside of your womb. To feel the first kick and have your husband place his hand on your belly. To have him there during the final push and for the both of you to watch that beautiful life you created grow up in front of your eyes. You will know what love truly is. I see myself and my husband experiencing all of that really soon, our infertility journey hasn’t ended yet. Sharing our story with all the amazing soon to be parents who are fighting infertility has been the best blessing we could ask for. Tonight instead of turning on the television, lay in bed together. Give each other a kiss, say ‘I love you’ and just talk to one another and tell each other how you truly feel. So that when the two of you finally become parents your foundation will be unbreakable!”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Jordan & Jodie. Follow their journey here. Submit your story here. For our best stories, subscribe to our free email newsletter.
From podcasts to video shows, parenting resources to happy tears – join the Love What Matters community and subscribe on YouTube.
Read more stories like this:
SHARE this story on Facebook or Twitter to support those battling infertility.