McKenna's Story

Sorry it took me so long to get this posted McKenna. I think it's a really important story, and thank you so much for sharing it with all of us.

There is not an easy way to tell such stories.
These experiences have broken my heart, crushed my faith, stolen my hope. But, and there is a but, if one person can read this and say, 'I can make it,' then I will have not suffered these trials in vain. Isn't that the point? We are here to help each other. To love and understand and lift up. Maranda, you are going to touch so many people. Thank you for allowing me to share these things in hopes that I can do the same.
No one has a 5 year plan that says, 'Lose your baby, have a brain tumor, live happily ever after.'
Trust me, these weren't my thoughts either.
When I got married at the ripe age of 21, I was full of hopes and dreams. I don't think I was diluted, but I think I was not aware of the situations that could come my way. My husband and I didn't really want kids, especially not right away. We decided that after school and careers had been establish then we would discuss the idea of being parents. I was engaged for 5 months, and you had better believe that the week after J proposed I was on birth control. Well, did you hear about how it works like, 99.9% of the time? I must have awesome odds, because a couple weeks after I was married (and yes, I was taking my pills RELIGIOUSLY) I became pregnant. My doc just shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Well, it happens. It doesn't work 100% of the time ya know.' Well, okay. I am ashamed to share with you my reaction to said pregnancy. I cried. Hard. Not because I was happy either. I was devastated. I saw all my dreams going down the crapper. I was surrounded by 7 different pregnancy tests, all showing a positive result, when my husband found me. He was much more excited, bless his sweet soul, but it took me a while to warm up to the idea of being a mother. At 21. My pregnancy was hard. I ended up getting kidney stones, infections, bed rest. 2 days before Christmas I started spotting and cramping. J rushed me to the ER and we both heaved a huge sigh of relief to know that it was just a little tear, and that our baby was just fine. The ultrasound showed an active, healthy baby. Christmas carried on as planned. I was tired and sick, but knowing that my child was safe, I could handle that. I had grown to love this little being inside me. After seeing the baby on the screen, hearing the heartbeat, I realized I was a part of something so much bigger than I ever thought I could be. One week later I fell ill again. I was rushed to the hospital and put on IV's, and was told that my body was under a lot of stress, but baby was doing fine. They just wanted to get 'mommy' healthy.
How I wish that I was prepared more for what was about to happen.
That night I went home from the hospital, I felt like a bomb had gone off in my body. For the sake of making sure this story doesn't take up way more space than is necessary, I lost my daughter at almost 20 weeks. She had died, simple as that. To make it even worse, there was no answer. No reason. My doctor had no idea what had happened. I was admitted, again, to the hospital, where I went through 12 hours of induced labor (with only morphine mind you) only to deliver and say goodbye to my dead daughter. After I held her for a few brief moments, they took her away. I have no doubt that they took my heart with them as they disappeared from my room with my daughter.
MY daughter.
The next year, well, I don't remember much of it. I didn't know how to mourn our child. (Whom we had named Addalyn Liese upon finding out we were going to have a girl) I felt lost and alone and worst of all, cheated. This created more of a desire in me to be a mother. We tried, only to lose 2 more pregnancies. I will say that we were blessed to not have to go through our first experience again. These losses were 8 weeks along.
The next series of events came so fast and so hard that I still can't believe they happened.
I was diagnosed with a septum in my uterus. That is no bueno. Then I was diagnosed with PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome) accompanied by pre-mature ovarian failure, which consequently, tosses my body into menopause. I decided against the surgery, at that time, to take out the septum, but decided to take Clomid (which I like to call satan's favorite drug) and Metoformin to see if we could control the PCOS and possibly get pregnant. That was short lived. I was diagnosed with a brain tumor in November of '07, just a month and a half shy of a year from our first loss.
Um, right. Me? Brain tumor? No, really?
I looked at those scans over and over again. I was too young (22) to be going through this. The tumor was in the middle of my brain, pushing on optic nerves, crushing my pituitary gland and pushing into my brain. I affectionately named the tumor Tubby (as I had gained oh, 80lbs from him) and was sent to a neurosurgeon to asses our options.
I had brain surgery in February of '08. I almost died in the ICU because my heart became to weak. I was left with only 1/2 a pituitary gland and really bad eyesight. Oh, and did I mention they told me I would NEVER be able to conceive?
Ever.
No, like ever.
It's been a little over a year since my surgery. My husband and I continue to attempt to cope with our situation. Adoption is our eventual plan, but right now we are just trying to accept our life. To heal. We have been blessed with family and friends who have picked up our shattered pieces. We also have those who shatter our hopes once we've attempted to put it all together. There are people who love, people who hurt, and we have to navigate life knowing that I will never be pregnant again, that we will never experience what we have desired so deeply. I am in no way saying Adoption isn't going to be amazing, that it isn't going to fill those void, but this, infertility, is so complex and hard to wrap your head around. Why when so many women out there, who probably should NOT be having babies, can have them when I am left stranded and barren.
I won't say that I know the answers. That I understand it. I don't. I don't think that in the term of my mortal life I will. I have to learn to be okay with that. It's hard when what you want is what you can't have. When you have to fight tooth and nail for something that comes so naturally 90% of the time.
Oh, how blessed to be a statistic.
I hope that those of you who are traveling this road know that there is compensation, there is peace, even if I don't believe it at times. I believe that finding connections with those who are enduring like trials can byou you and help you through the black days. You, in turn, will be able to offer that same love and hope for something else. Living through this is a war with yourself sometimes, trust me I know, but it's doable. Even when you have NO clue how you got out of bed this morning.
Being LDS brings a whole new level of complexity and confusion, at least for me, and it's hard for me to express those feelings. I have spent a lot of time being mad at God, and just within the past 6 to 12 months have come back to 'the church.
To all of you, and to Maranda, thank you for being brave, for being strong, and for bringing me comfort.
McKenna's Blog