A New Diagnosis

**I would like to note that I have written, deleted, and rewritten different versions of this post numerous times over the past month. As things have progressed I have kept silent, unsure what to say and how it would be received. So please, read this knowing that I am opening up and sharing with you from the very most personal part of my heart. Thank you.**

The other day I was rummaging through a desk drawer, on the hunt for the packing tape, when I ran across this old pair of Nathan’s socks. Months ago, my sister gave them to me so we could put them on Hunter’s feet as a fun joke after seeing similar (and hilarious!) stunts on YouTube. Now, looking at these tiny socks, a whole new flood of emotions washed over me.

There are some things you just know about yourself from a very young age. For me, I’ve always known this:

• I’m crazy over long dogs with short, stubby legs, and big, floppy ears.
• I could spend all day lost in a good book, curled up with a warm cup of tea beside me.
• I’m quiet until I feel secure, and only then can I feel free to be myself.
• I may act resilient but really even the quietest criticism is embedded in my heart.
• I’m meant to be a mother, snuggling little ones, teaching them about life, and watching them grow with pride in my eyes.

While I’ve known in my heart that I was designed to love little ones, I’ve also known for the last seven years that my biology did not agree with creating with this truth. So when Matt and I started talking about the time when we would have a family, I decided to head to the doctor for a checkup and some tests. But I wasn’t prepared for what she would tell me- that I had not one infertility disease to battle, but two. With that news, I cried. A lot- some with Matt and some by myself- feeling like nobody understood what this meant: giving up the “normal” progression of life, finding out in a secret moment by myself and planning how to keep and share the incredible news, the feeling of excitement with a little bit of fear of the unknown mixed in, and the lighthearted banter with other expecting friends.

Instead these facts meant that I would be headed down a path I had seen several others struggle down, full of pain and heartbreak, judgment and unneeded advice thought to be “helpful” by those who offered it, and trials of faith and heart. While it’s not uncommon for the average mother to have at least one miscarriage in her lifetime, for a mother fighting infertility, it is practically promised that she will have several. Somehow it seems so wrong that the women who work the hardest to gain their children lose them the easiest.

Taking the advice and help of my sister, I made an appointment for a second opinion with a specialist in Southern California. I gathered the last seven years of information from my medical files- exams, tests, surgeries, and results- and headed to my meeting hoping to learn my fate as a mother. As I sat in that office chair, on the opposite side of the desk from the doctor who would either crush my heart or stir my dreams, my hands shook and I tried desperately to hide the betrayal of my nerves by clutching them tightly together in my lap. When he overturned the diagnosis made several weeks before, stating evidence and facts that I had never heard before but now made perfect sense, my heartbeat quickened and hope slowly grew within. While I was still dealing with one infertility disease- my endometriosis, which now appeared to be at the most severe stage possible- I was not dealing with a second. And for that I could take a breath and praise God. And then face my future.

The doctor laid out several paths we could take if we wanted to move forward and we then said goodbye. I took my folders of information home with me and discussed them over the weekend with Matt, and on Monday we called the doctor to hire him onto our team. I needed someone in my corner who knew what I faced, knew how to handle it, and had faith that it could be done. I am so blessed to have found that! He calls me personally on the phone to check in, to ask if I have questions, to explain what steps are next, and he keeps it all simple despite an overwhelming process.

You see, I know now that sometimes when you know something is meant to be, it doesn’t mean that it will come easily. It means that you will FIGHT to gain your dreams. You will become RELENTLESS in your pursuit. And you will fall at each defeat but you will RISE AGAIN to overcome. This is my path to becoming a mom. It doesn’t look like everyone else’s but that’s okay. I know I am not alone as I walk this path in front of me, but am surrounded by a husband and family who love me and are committed to praying for our journey.

So tomorrow I will begin my IVF cycle. It begins with several weeks of medications and injections, moves on to surgery, several days of recovery, and then a procedure which will hopefully take and become the start of our new family. Several people have told me that I shouldn’t put this information out there for everyone to know, and I know that by doing so I am opening myself up for unintended hurtful comments and opinions, but I strongly feel that no woman should have to go through this process alone. If I put my story out there and can help even one woman through it down the road, then it will be worth it. I also know that if I keep this to myself then others won’t know how deeply it hurts to hear the often-said phrases of, “You don’t know because you’re not a mom”, “It’s your turn next”, or “You don’t want to wait too long because you’re only getting older.” And most importantly, by keeping this information hidden, I would be blocking you out of the opportunity to pray with us and see His answers unfold.

Suddenly looking at this little pair of socks, I was reminded of why I’m embarking on this difficult path and that it will be worth it in the end, as we have little feet to once again fill them. When I first started this blog I invited you to come along with us on our journey, and this is an important part of that. So I ask that you join us with your support and prayers for safety, wisdom, recovery, health, trust, and courage. Please stand by us with love and encouragement, as we’ll need that more than ever in the upcoming weeks.

Thank you!

Team Scott- Staci and Matt