Update on Baby Sully

Our journey to parenthood is scattered among many different posts, so I decided to combine it all here in one place and also included an update about where we're at now.

We were TTC (trying to conceive) for about 7 months before our first pregnancy. Sadly, I didn't know I was pregnant with our baby until I was miscarrying and the information that came with this event inaugurated a lengthy season of fertility treatments. Turns out I have PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) and Mike has MFI (Male Factor Infertility). Double whammy. So much grace being in this together though. With the support and encouragement of our community we began to pursue IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) as this was our only option for conception. After a strenuous season of medications and various procedures our first round of IVF was a success and I was pregnant with twins. We found out the babies were dying 1 week later, and I miscarried 2 weeks after that. Mike was out of town on business at the time and my brother Joe drove from Omaha to KC to spend the day with me, and that's the day my body chose to pass them and we said goodbye to two more babies. We took one month off and jumped right back into round 2 of IVF. After 3 years TTC we had become accustom to the medications and fertility treatments were simply a way of life now. Everything about round 2 was simpler. I don't know if it's because we were IVF veterans at this point or if our perspectives had shifted and we had truly learned what it means to cast our burdens onto the Lord. Probably a combination of both. We soon found out that while one embryo didn't survive after implantation, we were still pregnant with one seemingly healthy baby. We said goodbye in our hearts to our 4th baby and welcomed our 5th with gladness. Experiencing life and death within my body simultaneously was a difficult and confusing experience. We heard our surviving baby's healthy heartbeat for the first time one week later, something we had never experienced before. They told us during this appointment that after you have heard a healthy heartbeat, miscarriage rates drop to just 5%. I wasn't sure what to do with that information. It didn't seem to apply to us after all we had been through.

I am 18 weeks pregnant as I write this. I don't know how to describe the last 4 months. Every time I sit down to write an update about the pregnancy to our family and friends who have invested so much time, energy, prayer, money, and love into our journey I get stuck. I always sleep on my posts and then publish them the next day, but I kept waking up to written posts that just didn't seem accurate anymore. I would write an update, sleep on it, wake up in a completely different emotional space than I was in the day before, and return to edit a post that didn't even seem to be written by the same person. I would chalk it up to utter confusion and raging hormones and delete all of them, telling myself that I can't possibly share my experience until I can figure out what exactly I'm experiencing.

After some reflection, I've realized this: every single day of pregnancy after loss is different and no less true or authentic than the day before. Some days I am terribly afraid that our baby will die. Some days I am perfectly confident in the life I'm carrying. Some days I grieve over the lives we have lost in the process. Some days I'm convinced I'll never do IVF again. Some days I'm convinced we will try IVF several more times and grow a large family this way. Some days I celebrate with other pregnant friends. Some days I am angry that others can conceive naturally and we can't. Some days I feel cheated by God. Some days I feel so loved and intimately connected with God in the midst of this process that I find myself thankful for infertility. I have found that the best remedy for coping with grief and confusion is to spend time focusing on what you know for certain. Spending time focusing on truth is comforting and keeps you grounded in the midst of chaos. All I know for certain is that I am expecting good from God because God is good. The greatest things in my life (my husband, being the main example) have been unplanned gifts that were given to me only after my original plans were thwarted. Well here I sit, with my original plans for a family utterly and completely thwarted. Using my own history and the character of God as a guide of reference I feel certain that whatever is coming will be for my maximum benefit and the maximum benefit of His Kingdom. I am so thankful for the peace that comes with resting in your identity as a child of God.

So... I wrote that top part prior to the update I'm about to write and I'm so glad the Lord prompted me to do so before the events of last week. I've been able to read through the words I wrote and find my center once again. After some complications I was brought in for an emergency ultrasound and was prepared for the worst by our doctor. To our surprise and our doctor's surprise, our sweet little baby is doing just fine and we got to see a smile on the monitor for the first time. Long story short, I was diagnosed with complete placenta previa. It was also discovered at this time that I am Rh negative and my blood is incompatible with our baby's. Complications related to Rh negative blood and pregnancy (which are quite serious and some fatal) can be prevented by a shot, but unfortunately I was not given this shot in time to avoid complications. What this means for us and the baby? Well, I'm on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy (20 weeks, yikes), I am unable to have a vaginal delivery, and we may discover some birth defects that require immediate attention as we get further along into the pregnancy. We are resting in the knowledge that The Author of Life has designed this specific embryo to make it this far with us, and believe that the best is yet to come despite some hardships we may face in the coming weeks and years. Please join us in prayer for the following: that our baby miraculously has Rh negative blood after all (which would prevent all related complications and birth defects), that the complete previa corrects itself before birth, that the antibodies in my blood stop in their tracks and retreat before reaching our baby, and that our baby can make it to full term or close to prevent other complications.

I'll leave you all with some pictures that mean a lot to Mike and me. Below are two of many pictures my sweet friend, Bethany, took for us immediately following our 2nd round of IVF. We were unaware of the significance of the natural shading of the bulbs at that time, before we knew that we would lose one of the babies we transferred into my body that day. To me, these are pictures of the hope and peace we've found in the midst of grief. That's what life is; learning how to carry the good and the bad at the same time, feeling joy and sorrow simultaneously, honoring your victories and hardships. The shaded bulb represents our pain and our losses on the journey to parenthood and the bulb in the sunlight represents the good that has come from it, the good that is still coming, and the sweet life growing within me.

 Thanks for reading.

The Lovely Initiative

My best friend recently started a movement called "The Lovely Initiative" and you've got to check it out. You can learn all about her purpose and mission here: http://www.thelovelyinitiative.org/.

She recently asked to feature me on the site and it was a really special experience. The photoshoot, discussion, and writing segment really challenged me to search for the loveliest pieces of myself and share them bravely with the purpose of ending the destructive cycle of comparison among women. This movement is all about being empowered by each other's stories. I am just so proud of my dear friend and what she is accomplishing here by searching for all things good in the world when there is so much bad.

Here is my writing segment and favorite picture from the day:

"What makes me lovely? My ability to grieve with an open heart.

I've experienced a significant amount of loss in my life, most recently the loss of my ability to conceive naturally and my four angel babies who I lost in the womb along the way. Instead of allowing this struggle to harden or paralyze me, I fully submitted to the process and allowed it to sharpen me. Grieving has exposed the loveliest parts of myself. I welcomed people into our journey by speaking and writing openly about infertility when I could have chosen to isolate myself. I asked for help when I needed it when I could have tried (and failed) to do it alone. I was kind to myself and spoke words of encouragement when I could have accepted blame. I continued to dream about our future as parents when I could have given up hope. I continued to pursue Christ and ask the tough questions when I could have let resentment lead me astray. I allowed myself the space and time to mourn when I could have pretended I was unaffected.  I was understanding and gentle with the people in my life who were absent and insensitive during this process when I could have ended relationships that were important to me.

I refuse to let my circumstances define who I am and what kind of life I get to live. I don't know what my future family will look like, but I know I have a beautiful life unfolding before me because I serve a beautiful God. Nothing aches quite like the loss of our children and the life that could have been with them, but nothing restores quite like believing in the good to come. "