Chicken Soup for the Soul: New Moms
BY: RMB McManamon
BY: RMB McManamon
Determine the thing that can and shall be done, and then we shall find the way.~Abraham Lincoln
I was twenty-eight when I got married. Tom and I dated for five years before our big day. We had a summer wedding -- a perfect time since I am a teacher. I had already earned tenure so I felt secure in my job -- again, a perfect time to get married.
Who knew that I would choose to transfer to a different school district the year after we got married? Better pay and a better district were the reasons. To achieve tenure again would require four consecutive full-time years instead of just two. I had to start over, but that was okay. Having kids would be put on the backburner for now. I would only be thirty-three when I earned my tenure at this school, and we could start our family then. This was our new "master plan."
The four years went by quickly. I earned tenure and was ready to have children. I was pregnant within a year. We were excited. From the moment we found out I was pregnant, we were on cloud nine. In bed, Tom would talk to my belly and say the infamous words of Darth Vader, "I am your father!" It was cute.
Unfortunately, I miscarried at eight weeks. We were crushed. The doctors, although sympathetic, were matter-of-fact. "These things happen to a lot of women. It's not uncommon at all." I felt no comfort in those words. The doctors said to try again in a couple of months, and I was pregnant three months later. This time it was different. We put up our guard. We didn't let ourselves get excited. "Let's hope for the best," we kept telling ourselves.
This second pregnancy lasted twelve weeks. This time, the doctors ran tests and found a chromosomal abnormality. But they said there was still no reason why I wouldn't be able to carry a healthy baby to full term.
We tried to get pregnant for about a year after the second miscarriage, but were unsuccessful. We decided to give ourselves a short break from the stress of trying to conceive. "It will happen," we thought to ourselves. Deep down, I wasn't so sure.
Instead of getting pregnant, I got cancer. It was a rare type of breast cancer. Several surgeries followed by chemotherapy were scheduled. During one of my initial appointments with the oncologist, he asked, "Do you and your husband plan on having kids?" I answered, "We were hoping to." With that, he suggested I get my eggs extracted by an IVF doctor.
Several doctors informed us, "Your insurance doesn't cover this." When I asked what all of this would cost, I was told somewhere around $25,000 with no guarantee that the result would be a baby. Tom and I thought long and hard about it. Ultimately, we decided this was an "investment" worth making.
In my effort to work out a payment plan, I spoke with a woman named Lee from a certain doctor's office, and she turned out to be our saving grace. Although she verified that insurance companies don't often cover egg extraction, there were three exceptions: having cancer that required chemotherapy; being thirty-five or over and trying to conceive unsuccessfully for over six months; and having two or more miscarriages. I informed her that I actually fit into all three of those categories! She took my insurance information and fought for me. She won! Insurance would cover it!
I had to undergo two extractions, but the result was four embryos that were to be frozen for future use. It felt like a victory although I still had so much to go through. Even after chemotherapy, I had to be on medication for five years and was not to get pregnant during that time. Our dream of being parents seemed so distant. Our "master plan" needed revision.
The important thing was to fight this dreaded disease and get healthy. I wouldn't let it beat me. Chemo was hard at times, but I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't suffer much nausea, just extreme exhaustion, achy bones, and low immunity. I did lose all of my hair, including my eyebrows and eyelashes, but I continued to teach, struggling to make the seventy-five-mile roundtrip drive to work. I wore a do-rag of sorts to school, and most of my high school students and other teachers thought it was just my new fashion statement.
I made it through stronger than ever, but still my life wasn't complete. However, all that changed when my sister called me at work one afternoon. It was a phone call I will never forget. Her exact words were, "Why don't we see your doctor about making you a mom? I could be your surrogate!" I burst into tears.
The entire process took over two years, but I am now the mother of a beautiful, healthy son who was born in September 2009. I will forever be grateful for this wonderful gift I've been given. What a sister I have! I am truly blessed. It was a long journey, but the "master plan" finally happened... thanks to my sister.
I was twenty-eight when I got married. Tom and I dated for five years before our big day. We had a summer wedding -- a perfect time since I am a teacher. I had already earned tenure so I felt secure in my job -- again, a perfect time to get married.
Who knew that I would choose to transfer to a different school district the year after we got married? Better pay and a better district were the reasons. To achieve tenure again would require four consecutive full-time years instead of just two. I had to start over, but that was okay. Having kids would be put on the backburner for now. I would only be thirty-three when I earned my tenure at this school, and we could start our family then. This was our new "master plan."
The four years went by quickly. I earned tenure and was ready to have children. I was pregnant within a year. We were excited. From the moment we found out I was pregnant, we were on cloud nine. In bed, Tom would talk to my belly and say the infamous words of Darth Vader, "I am your father!" It was cute.
Unfortunately, I miscarried at eight weeks. We were crushed. The doctors, although sympathetic, were matter-of-fact. "These things happen to a lot of women. It's not uncommon at all." I felt no comfort in those words. The doctors said to try again in a couple of months, and I was pregnant three months later. This time it was different. We put up our guard. We didn't let ourselves get excited. "Let's hope for the best," we kept telling ourselves.
This second pregnancy lasted twelve weeks. This time, the doctors ran tests and found a chromosomal abnormality. But they said there was still no reason why I wouldn't be able to carry a healthy baby to full term.
We tried to get pregnant for about a year after the second miscarriage, but were unsuccessful. We decided to give ourselves a short break from the stress of trying to conceive. "It will happen," we thought to ourselves. Deep down, I wasn't so sure.
Instead of getting pregnant, I got cancer. It was a rare type of breast cancer. Several surgeries followed by chemotherapy were scheduled. During one of my initial appointments with the oncologist, he asked, "Do you and your husband plan on having kids?" I answered, "We were hoping to." With that, he suggested I get my eggs extracted by an IVF doctor.
Several doctors informed us, "Your insurance doesn't cover this." When I asked what all of this would cost, I was told somewhere around $25,000 with no guarantee that the result would be a baby. Tom and I thought long and hard about it. Ultimately, we decided this was an "investment" worth making.
In my effort to work out a payment plan, I spoke with a woman named Lee from a certain doctor's office, and she turned out to be our saving grace. Although she verified that insurance companies don't often cover egg extraction, there were three exceptions: having cancer that required chemotherapy; being thirty-five or over and trying to conceive unsuccessfully for over six months; and having two or more miscarriages. I informed her that I actually fit into all three of those categories! She took my insurance information and fought for me. She won! Insurance would cover it!
I had to undergo two extractions, but the result was four embryos that were to be frozen for future use. It felt like a victory although I still had so much to go through. Even after chemotherapy, I had to be on medication for five years and was not to get pregnant during that time. Our dream of being parents seemed so distant. Our "master plan" needed revision.
The important thing was to fight this dreaded disease and get healthy. I wouldn't let it beat me. Chemo was hard at times, but I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't suffer much nausea, just extreme exhaustion, achy bones, and low immunity. I did lose all of my hair, including my eyebrows and eyelashes, but I continued to teach, struggling to make the seventy-five-mile roundtrip drive to work. I wore a do-rag of sorts to school, and most of my high school students and other teachers thought it was just my new fashion statement.
I made it through stronger than ever, but still my life wasn't complete. However, all that changed when my sister called me at work one afternoon. It was a phone call I will never forget. Her exact words were, "Why don't we see your doctor about making you a mom? I could be your surrogate!" I burst into tears.
The entire process took over two years, but I am now the mother of a beautiful, healthy son who was born in September 2009. I will forever be grateful for this wonderful gift I've been given. What a sister I have! I am truly blessed. It was a long journey, but the "master plan" finally happened... thanks to my sister.
http://www.beliefnet.com/Inspiration/Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul/2011/04/The-Master-Plan.aspx?source=NEWSLETTER&nlsource=49&ppc=&utm_campaign=DIBSoup&utm_source=NL&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_term=mail.ru
Комментариев нет:
Отправить комментарий