The beginning….

Just me and my thoughts….barely getting through this journey.


Hi there, just me and my thoughts here… as my husband and I embark on a choatic journey of adoptions, IVF, and and all the ups and downs in between; not to mention just life in general.

When I asked my husband (he’s a witty one, sometimes) what I should title my blog, he mentioned to me, “Unraveling the Yarn.”  I said, “Hm…not sure about that one, but I like the concept.  What else could go with it, and what does even mean lol”  He replied, “Like the expression that a woman’s brain is a big ball of yarn, so you are writing things out as a way to unravel the mess of thoughts in your head.”  – See, that’s why I married him.  He gets me.

So, that’s what I’m doing, I’m unraveling my thoughts, my fears, my anxiety, my happiness and there’s alot more going on up there, but I’ll try to focus on these things.  Because adoption can be a scary thing.  IVF can be an even scarier thing.  You may read that and think to yourself, why the hell would anyone put themselves through both of those processes at one time.  I guess I can start this whole blog off by answering that.

Here it goes, bear with me, it’s definitely been a ride.  Like so many families, we’ve had 2 miscarriages, a pretty common thing in this world.  It can be tough, whether you are expecting it or not.  On top of the miscarriages, we also had 2 ectopic pregnancies.  Those were a little more rough on me, physically.  In 2011, kiddo #1 & #2 were welcomed into this world with completely open hearts.  We were so very ready for them.  Of course, at first, we didn’t KNOW there were 2 of them, but we knew we were trying, we were successful after a short few months (I say few, but it was really 7 months but in the ‘Trying-To-Get-Pregnant’ World, it only classifies as a few).  We were excited, ecstatic really and we told a few people here and there but tried to keep it quiet.  Like any new parents, we were overwhelmingly excited to start this journey and be the awesome, weird parents we knew we were meant to be.  Except, a pain started to occur, my test results weren’t showing up as they should, and we found out we had miscarried, and a few weeks later, we had an ectopic pregnancy.  Unusual but oh so very capable of happening.  That. is. tough.  My doctor had wanted me to take a shot (summing this up and not going into all the medical terms and meds, but it was a shot) to let the ectopic pregnancy pass.  It didn’t work.  2 weeks later, I was being rushed to the hospital because I was in serious pain and I was tired of waiting.  I was exhausted from WAITING to know and for it to be finished.  Maybe that sounds cold, but anyone who has experienced an ectopic pregnancy knows what I’m talking about.  Anyways, rushed into ER, had 3 incisions in my stomach, my tube had ruptured while they were trying to remove the little girl from my tube and my tube was removed.  1-2 months later, I was recovering physically, not quite ready to recover mentally yet, but that’s another post for another day.

Kiddo #3 came in July 2015.  We had tried, alot, I was on clomid for months and again, we were ecstatic.  We told basically everyone because we had a huge family outing that we would be with friends and family constantly and we didn’t want to hide it.  A month after telling everyone, we had miscarriage #2.  We were traveling to Mexico later that month and we decided I didn’t want to pass the empty sac while in Mexico and potentially have problems, so we had it removed.  So if you’re keeping count:  2 miscarriages, 1 ectopic.

Kiddo #4, and probably the most painful (physically), was the last one.  He was a little fighter, I tell you.  It hurts me to this day to say this outloud, because I know the situation medically is not possible or not ideal, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t painful or haunt you just a bit.  October of this year (2016), I got up and went to yoga at 4:30 am like I always do.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, I was even running a few minutes behind like I always do.  I sat in my car and instantly was having this annoying pain in my side.  I brushed it off like I was having digestion issues or that my food from the night before wasn’t settling.  Either way, I knew I’d get to yoga, I’d go to work and it’d go away.  I drove for 6 miles debating whether this pain was too painful to get through my yoga or not.  It sounds dumb now, that yoga was that important to me, but that was my way to start my day.  I went back and forth for 6 miles, and finally decided I had the flu or was coming down with the flu and needed to go back to bed and call in sick.  I get home, I yell to my hubs that I think I was getting sick..probably food poisoning or the flu.  I mean it’s October and weather in Arkansas is stupid, so who knows what you can come down with then.  I layed on the couch, on my side, curled up in a ball, because that was the only way that I felt the least amount of pain.  Again, I know it sounds stupid now…but I am a bit of a tough cookie and I have done alot of stupid things over the years, acquired alot of stitches, have scars for days and pain is not a big thing to me.  I mean, it sucked and I even started to cry at one point but I brushed it off that I was tired.

So from 4:30 am to 8:00 am I struggled with pain, little did I know I was struggling with my life (whoa…that’s huge once I see it in writing).  I’m not being dramatic either…I’ll get into the details in a few.  I text my sister and told her I was sick and that I might go into the ER b/c I think I had food poisoning or something was wrong.  I asked her advice and we didn’t really decide on a conclusion.  Finally, I look at my husband and said, “What should I do?”  He looks back at me and says, “What does your gut tell you?  You always say, you regret it when you go against your gut.”  BOOM.  Again, why I married him, he gets me.

I didn’t hesitate to get up, well I did.  I couldn’t get up without his help and pain shooting throughout my body.  I struggled to get on my shoes and a jacket to wear and I definitely didn’t give two hells what I looked like b/c we were headed to the ER stat.  Traffic by the way in NWA is the worst, seriously the worst.  Finally, 30 minutes later, we arrive at ER, waited in the ER waiting room for well over an hour as I slump over a chair in tears, just asking for someone to take me back.  We get taken back, and wait again in the hospital room for over an hour, get a Dr. to see us and finally get prescribed some pain meds.  45 minutes later, no pain meds and I truly think I’m going to die.  While a random guy was in our room (I mean, he wasn’t random, he was restocking towels in the room), I say, “GET ME SOMEONE NOW.  I DON’T CARE WHO..BUT I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE.”  This was my final plea, seriously I didn’t know what was going on but I was in more pain than I can explain and I knew that I wasn’t going to make it if someone didn’t get something to me.  I literally had debated having him take me home because I knew I had tylenol, aleve, or maybe some old muscle relaxers at home to hopefully alleviate some pain.  THANKFULLY, the restocker guy was like, hey I’ll get your nurse so he can get that for you.  THANK YOU JESUS that he was listening.  Pain meds given and within about 3 minutes I was feeling better, still an incredible amount, but bearable at least.

Somewhere in between my madness of begging to send me a doctor and yelling at my husband to get someone in my hospital room and help me with meds, we were told we were pregnant.  That happened in one sentence, the following sentence I knew what she was going to say before she even started it.  I think I may have even interrupted her and said, “Ectopic?”  She said, “But it’s an ectopic pregnancy…and it has a heartbeat, which is unusual.”  WTF.  Alright, I’m not a big cusser, but please for the love, do not tell a woman that is in pain, that is gripping for her life, that she is pregnant, that it’s an ectopic pregnancy BUT it has a heartbeat.  Again, WTF.  That comment to this day haunts me significantly.  I am a supporter of a woman’s right to choose, but I am not a supporter of abortion.  Please don’t hate me for that comment, I do not hate you for your beliefs.  So what was going to be done next was something I truly feared and that simple comment of “It has a heartbeat,” hurt more than anything to me…. still does, because I knew there were no other options.  That little boy was going to be taken from me and I couldn’t say no or I wasn’t going to make it.

So……. as I’m getting over that comment still…let’s finish this story.  TURNS OUT, my tube ruptured.  It ruptured hours before, probably about the same time I started experiencing that pain about 4:45 am.  For 7 hours I was bleeding internally.  7 damn hours (see I said I wasn’t that much of a cusser, but it does happen and sorry about that…the pain brings it out).  7 hours, I was bleeding into my abdomen and if I would’ve pulled up my shirt I would’ve noticed all the bruising that had taken over my left ribcage.  Over a liter of blood was lost in my abodmen.  You would think I would have maybe figured out that the pain was more serious than some stupid undigested food.  But whatever, we don’t always make the best decisions… or should I say I don’t always make the best decisions, and trying to be a brave person and push through the pain was stupid of me; I know this now.

Anyways, since the tube ruptured, there was no hope in saving it, not even a little portion of it.  So that’s 2, the 2 tubes you are given by our sweet, gracious Lord were taken away so quickly, and the dream of having children naturally was removed from my window of opportunities, surprising your husband with a disgustingly peed on stick was removed from my hands, doing a “gender reveal” which I hate anyways, but doing one was no longer an option, and finally getting to experience an ultrasound with my husband holding my hand, listening to a heartbeat wasn’t going to happen without doing IVF (something I was not, am still not 100% sold on).  So ya… was painful.  It still is painful.  I know several people in my life, that don’t get my struggles and that is completely fine because I don’t understand everyone in my life’s struggles.  BUT, this was a tough one for me.  Not only did I have a brush of death…the one thing I know God has put me on this earth to be is a mom, and slowly, and torturously that opportunity was being stripped from my hands, no matter how hard I was holding onto it.

Obviously, I know the wonderful option of IVF & adoption are incredible, INCREDIBLE opportunities that we so luckily have the privilege of.  So please don’t take my description as IVF or adoption are lesser ways to become a mom.  IT ABSOLUTELY IS NOT.  I actually consider both options to be much more difficult emotionally, physically, mentally and socially to get through.  THAT TAKES A STRONG, INCREDIBLE, BRAVE MOM.  I have so much respect for women that go through anything of the sorts and I fully plan to go through both processes as well, hence this blog.  I just want to make sure you’re not perceiving my description and story incorrectly.  That may be an unnecessary explanation, but it is important I say it.

So……….this is the beginning.  Something that may seem like an ending (I was one of those people at one point in time), is simply the beginning to this journey.

Hope you’ll join me and come back.   I promise it will not all be tears and pain….



4 thoughts on “The beginning….

  1. I felt it. Not the same, obviously. But I felt it with you. The pain in each word. The heartbreak in every sentence. Although I haven’t personally struggled with infertility, I stand with you in making this topic more public. This blog, your strength, your tears – will save someone. I know because they’ve saved me so many times. I love you sweet Chasnie.


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