June 16, 2000, was supposed to be the end of my fertility. My second son was born via c-section that day and I had chosen have a tubal ligation at the same time. I had the type of tubal ligation where the tubes are cut, a section is removed, and the ends are cauterized. That type of sterilization is the most effective and the most difficult to reverse. Three days later I realized what a terrible mistake I'd made. I regretted having the surgery done and was so angry at myself for making such a terrible decision. I talked to family and friends about it and we all agreed that it was probably just normal post partum depression and that it would take time for my hormones to start behaving properly again. I figured I'd just need time to adjust to this new phase of my life and that what I was feeling was probably very common. That first year passed and I began to realize that I felt worse instead of better. I knew then that what I was feeling wasn't common or normal at all.

I began looking into having a tubal reversal. I researched, gathered information, collected contact numbers. I started to feel a glimmer of hope that maybe one day I would be able to conceive again. I talked to my husband about the possibility. To my great disappointment, he was completely against it. It was an expensive, elective surgery - one that might not work and he just didn't see the sense in taking the risk. We discussed it, argued about it, fought about it, but neither of us budged and for a while, it really put a strain on our relationship. That was year two of my infertility.

When I went out into public and saw pregnant women, I would cry. When I saw pregnancy tests on TV, watched diaper commercials, walked past the "family planning" section at the grocery store, I would cry. Talk about pathetic! I have never been much of a crier so all of that was very out of character for me. From time to time I would watch the birth of my second son on videotape. When it came to where the doctor asked if I was sure I wanted to have my tubes tied, I wanted to scream, "NOOOO!" What had I been thinking when I said, "yes"?!? Except for my husband, no one knows how painful those years were for me. I didn't talk about it to anyone. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I was so mad at myself for not being able to get over it and to focus on the good in my life. I had two wonderful sons, a great step daughter, and a husband I was very much in love with. I knew that I had a lot more than a lot of people. So, why wasn't it enough for me? I berated myself about it over and over again, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that something - and more specifically "someone" - was missing.

Year three started getting better. I stopped thinking about and researching the tubal reversal endlessly. The dialogue between my husband and I was better and our marriage became stronger. My children, as always, were wonderful. I started to think that, in the future, I might actually be able to accept things as they were. I didn't feel angry anymore and I thought that was a good sign. I still felt a sadness and a sense of loss, but I thought, "this too will pass."

The end of February and first few days of March, 2004, I wasn't feeling well at all. It was a strangely familiar sickness and when my husband asked what it felt like I said, "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say I was pregnant." Obviously, I knew that wasn't it, but that's what it felt like. We concluded that I must have caught some sort of bug and that was all. The feeling just wasn't getting any better though and I was so shocked at how much it felt like the morning sickness I had with my previous two pregnancies. I thought it must be purely psychological though. I started listing in my mind all of the symptoms of pregnancy that I'd had in the past. They were all there; I had every last one of them. But I thought again, surely this is just psychological. On March 3, 2004, I lay in bed wide awake at 1:30 am. All of those pregnancy symptoms were dancing around in my head and then I thought about the most obvious one. How had I not thought about it before? I sat bolt upright. I thought. when was the last time I'd had my period?? I have always been very regular and I knew I was late. Very late.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I got up, got in the car, and drove to the store. I bought a home pregnancy test. On the way home I was just laughing at myself. I knew the test was going to come back negative and I had just wasted $10. I thought at least I'd be able to get some sleep though when I had all those crazy thoughts out of my head. I planned on burying the used test deep down in the garbage can and never telling anyone of my bout of silliness. I took the test as soon as I got home. I put the test stick up on the bathroom sink and went to the kitchen and puttered around. I couldn't bear standing there, listening to the clock ticking, just watching. I promised myself that I wouldn't be disappointed when the test came up negative. It was illogical to think it would come up any differently. I went to the bathroom and glanced down at the test, not really wanting to look. I looked again. I picked up the test to look at it more closely. I stared at the test. I rubbed my eyes and stared at the test. It was so surreal. I had to sit down on the edge of the bathtub because I suddenly felt lightheaded. When I saw the word "Pregnant" as clear as day on that test, it knocked the wind out of me.

I woke up my husband at 2 am. I made sure he was wide awake first... and then I showed him the test. I can't even describe his expression and I can't even remember what we said to each other. It was all so dreamlike and my memory is so cloudy. I do know that there was a mixture of extreme elation combined with a terrible, nagging fear. We kissed and hugged and fell asleep in each others' arms. Whatever was to come, we would go through together. The following week (and 6 more home pregnancy tests later) there were doctor's appointments and a very important sonogram. Given the odd circumstances there was a good chance that I had an ectopic pregnancy (a pregnancy in my fallopian tube). My OB/GYN tried to prepare me for the possibility and made sure I knew that meant the pregnancy would not be viable. We tried to brace ourselves for any bad news that we knew we could receive. The three days we had to wait before the ultrasound was pure agony.

The time in the waiting room seemed like an eternity. I was sitting there, my bladder about to burst (as directed), trying not to get my hopes up. Finally my name was called. My husband got up to go with me, but he wasn't allowed just yet. I didn't dare to look at the screen when the ultrasound began. I didn't want to see the baby that I might never be able to bring into the world. She located the heartbeat and turned up the volume so I could hear it. I thought, "Surely she wouldn't do such a thing if the baby wasn't viable?" I asked her if the baby was where it should be. She replied that she wasn't allowed to tell me; my doctor would have to do that. Oh! Pure, torturous agony! I couldn't stand it any longer not knowing if my baby would live or die! After the technician took all the pictures and measurements she had to, she let my husband come into the room. Immediately he said, "Is the baby where it should be?" I told him that she wasn't allowed to tell us. Obviously she could see the concern and disappointment on our faces. Finally, in an act of pure mercy and kindness, she pointed to a little spot on the screen and said, "This is the baby and this." she drew a huge circle all the way around the baby ".is the uterus." For the first time in over a week, I could finally breathe again. With tears in my eyes, I looked at that wonderful lady and said, "I could just hug you right now." My baby was nowhere near my fallopian tubes and was right smack dab in the middle of my uterus. My doctor later confirmed that what the sonogram showed was a normal, healthy implantation and a strong, steady heartbeat!

We don't know how it happened and we might never know. All we know is that it did happen and as I sit here, nearly five months pregnant, feeling my baby kicking around inside of me, I realize I am the luckiest woman in the world. My husband is ecstatic. I am walking on a cloud. My "someone" that I always knew was missing has somehow, against all odds, found his way to me. There isn't anything missing anymore.

(written May 2004)