Miracles do happen.

A couple lenten seasons ago, Will decided to give up red meat for his 40 days. (Such the good Catholic.)  I decided I'd join him. It couldn't be that hard. About 5 hours after the decision was made, all I wanted was a juicy steak. Night two of being red-meat-free, I begged Will to cook some ribs. Day three, I gave in and ate a frito pie. (of all things...)

I decided having kids is a lot like lent.

Will and I always knew we wanted kids. That's a topic you discuss on date 3. However, we were flexible on a time frame. We knew we had a lot of traveling and things to enjoy before we started our family. We're so young, after all. (I keep reminding my husband he can't keep telling people he was the age he was LAST year. People have figured out he's turned another year.) But when a doctor tells you "You probably won't be able to have children naturally", the natural desire for a family suddenly consumes you.

My first pregnancy wasn't particularly planned, but we were definitely excited that this is where we were headed. (We took biology, we knew what route we were on.) A family! We were thrilled.

I was 6 weeks along when I miscarried. We know that so many people miscarry, and it can be absolutely normal. After all, that's why you don't tell Facebook with the cute little shoes in a row until at least week 13.

My second pregnancy was similar. Another heartbreak. We realized that something probably isn't right. Based on previous health issues, we knew my body isn't the average 28-year-old's, so we thought it was best to go to a specialist. We went through lots of testing, and she said it could be a fluke, or maybe something was wrong after I got pregnant (like low progesterone levels) that could easily be "fixed." She said we may have to do something more extreme, and it was up to us what route to take.

Naturally (literally), we wanted to avoid any "drastic measures." I became pregnant again, and we felt great. We were able to see the doctor a couple of times a week, and my hcg levels looked great. I was taking progesterone and being monitored.  We told our families and closest friends the great news. And then we prayed, and waited, and prayed, and waited. At the 8 week appointment, there wasn't a heartbeat. She told us to wait, and maybe there could be one at 9 weeks. It was a terrible week of emotional roller coaster what-ifs. At week 9, it was confirmed there was no heartbeat. We decided to wait naturally to miscarry. However, I made it a week before deciding I couldn't wait for nature. I wanted "it" out of me. We decided to have a medically induced miscarriage when I could be at home.

That day was one of the worst days I've ever had. If I didn't have Will, I can guarantee you I wouldn't have made it. The pain gods would have taken me away.  The pain associated with miscarriages isn't discussed. It was a horrific and terrible day. (At a later check up, it was found that the sack grew into my uterus, and thus took park of my uterus with it, hence the extremity of my pain. Let's just say I wouldn't even wish that on Ted Cruz.)

After dealing emotionally and physically with that, we had the "what's next" conversation. Seeing one of the best fertility doctors in the nation is a a blessing. (Even more than that, it's an honor and a privilege to even be in her office. Luckily my dad knew someone who referred me to Dr. McKenzie, and I recommend her to everyone. As I told her while crying one day in her office "I really like yall, so at least I don't have to leave you!" She assured me her plan was to make it where I did leave her eventually.) We trust her, and we know she's leading us down the right path. We know God chose her to be our doctor. (Sometimes I even forget she sees other people and she's not just my own personal doctor. And she's not even reading this, so I'm not even trying to get brownie points.)  She said she wants us to stop trying naturally. My body can't take any more unsuccessful pregnancies.

She said in-vitro fertilization is all we can do. Don't want to get too technical (yet), but it's my eggs that are the issue, in her opinion. For genetic reasons, my eggs could never make it longer than 12 weeks. However, with embryo testing, our hope is that enough eggs can be harvested through IVF that at least one can be found that isn't "incompatible with life." (Yes, Dad, I know that's a double negative.) You take a lot of drugs to try and make your follicles create a lot of eggs to be harvested. (I remember when harvesting used to mean good wine was coming...) Even then, the probability of IVF working is less than 50% for each trial.

As we've gone through this, I've been incredibly private. Which is unusual for me, as I'm usually a pretty open book. But we've finally decided to share our story for several reasons.

First, Will and I believe so strongly in the power of prayer. I recently was mad at my mother for sharing with someone that I didn't feel like would understand. My mom said it simply: "They don't have to understand or have gone through it. They have to pray. The more people praying, the better."
So we are here asking you to pray along beside us.

Secondly,  1 out of 4 women have had or will have a miscarriage, and only 1 out of 10 admit it publicly.

Throughout these months, I've been embarassed. Embarrassed that this comes so easily to others, and yet somehow I'm still struggling. Embarrassed I can't give Will something he so badly deserves. Embarrassed that I can't answer questions like "So WHY is this happening?"

I've been following the blog "Motherload" on the  New York Times website that is a parenting blog. They recently have a writer who did IVF live on The Today Show, and found out in front of all of America she's pregnant. I began following it because I wanted to know her experience. However, she miscarried. Someone asked her "Do you wish you kept your story private?" Her answer is a lot of the reason I'm choosing to share.

She said "No, my pain is real. Keeping it private doesn't make the pain less. Feeling embarrassed, ashamed, and isolated makes it worse. I want every woman to feel like she can tell her story, and still be accepted. That's what women should do for one another. I'm calling all women to come forward and tell their story, whatever it is, and for the women surrounding them to tell theirs. And for all women to be supportive of one another. For those of you that aren't ready, that's ok, too. You can sit on the sidelines and wait. We're hoping to start a revolution to have you feel like one day, it's ok to come out from under the covers."

We all know I'm not one to sit on the sidelines. (Even as many times as my softball team wants me to.) So here we are.

Thirdly, those who we have shared with have been graciously kind, sensitive, and so supportive. They have asked us to be "kept in the loop." So for those of you who want to be in that loop and get a glimpse of what IVF entails, you can subscribe to this blog and it'll alert you with any updates. We don't know exactly where this journey will take us, but we thank you for being part of it with us.

My parents sent me an engraved bracelet in the mail yesterday. My mom said she knew nothing had happened this week in particular, but she just wanted me to always remember it on days that got hard. I told Will I'm not taking the bracelet off until I have a baby in my arms. In little letters is the powerful message, "Miracles do happen."

All our love,
Kendall and Will