The WM Parenting Connection

By Dawn Bininger

So this past Thanksgiving I decided to do something I had NEVER done. Host Thanksgiving dinner. I know. I know. Shocking, isn’t it? In all my 37 years I had never done this.

My attendees were an eclectic mix of family and friends. Just the way I like it! A motley crew of folks which included my ex-husband AND my current boyfriend. Yeah. No joke! I am cutting edge on the divorce frontier, people.

Dinner was devoured in true Viking style, and a nice, leisurely conversation started up. Also in attendance was my beautiful 15 year old niece and her new boyfriend Chad. A very sweet kid I had met a few times before.

Suddenly, out of the blue, it happened.

Chad looks across at me and very innocently asks “Dawn, why don’t you have any kids?”
Immediately a flurry of activity followed…

My niece fiercely whispering “Shhhhhhhhhhhh”…My sister reaching over to flick his arm…The whispered “ She doesn’t like to talk about it“…All followed by a stunned looking me and an embarrassed looking Chad.
Poor kid…Never had a chance…

I don’t get it and never have. Note to the world…It’s OKAY to ask me. No, really!!
I have ALWAYS been an open book regarding this aspect of my life. Oh, heck, who am I kidding? I am an open book about everything in my life…Pick your question, ask it, and I am sure to answer it.

Trust me. You are much more uncomfortable than I am about it.

So why don’t I have any children?

Well. I certainly didn’t PLAN on not having any…As I like to say…It just wasn’t in the stars for me…
Much like every other young lady I always assumed it would eventually happen. You know. Marriage. Two point five kids. House in the burbs. Dog. Cat. Bird. That’s what happens, right?

I didn’t dwell on it. Just assumed, in time, that plan would materialize. I was on birth control from the age of 16 because of irregular menstrual cycles. (Clue #1)

I met my now ex-husband Steve at the age of 21. After 6 months of dating I found myself pregnant for the very first time. To say I was shocked is an understatement. I was on the pill. I was in a new, pretty serious relationship. And I don’t think we had really discussed children at that point.

I was a cleaning houses. He worked in a warehouse. We were ill prepared to have a child. (I know, as if having a child is ever truly convenient, right?)

So there I was pregnant, scared, and uninsured.

But after a brief freak out, I did what I have always done when troubles arise. I tackled it head on. To Steve’s credit, he handled it quite well, and immediately had me move in. He proposed and we started planning a wedding…But fate always has her own plans.

Four weeks later while working I started bleeding and cramping. I called into the clinic where I had gone to be seen (no insurance meant I was treated like a second class citizen) I was told repeatedly that it was common. To go home. Put my feet up. Everything would be fine. I was 21 years old. I trusted them.
I was scared. I was in pain. I had no idea what was going on in my body.

The following week I arrived for my first sonogram only to discover there was nothing there but an empty sac. I was devastated.

Miscarriage number one.

To this day I sill think about that first pregnancy from time to time. Say things like “Well, she would have been 10 this year” or “He would be driving now”.

I rebounded pretty well, and although there was no longer an immediate need, we went ahead and planned a wedding. We both knew it would have happened with or without the pregnancy.

We were married in October of 1994. I was so busy planning a wedding that I failed to notice I had once again missed a period. During our honeymoon I found out I was pregnant for the second time. We were slightly surprised. AGAIN. I know. I know. I had stopped taking the pill of course after the first pregnancy and kind of forgot to go back on it.

This time we felt a little bit more prepared. I wanted this one. A lot. I had just married my very best friend, and nothing would have made me happier than to have his child.

I made it almost to my third month when I felt the familiar cramps and the bleeding one day while working. A call to my doctor in the early morning hours confirmed my fears and I was told to come in immediately. This time there was no doubt. I was miscarrying. This time it was bad and I was sent to the ER for a D and C. I don’t remember much about it. I just remember lots of blood. And lots of pain. And Steve. Steve was there, as always, by my side.

Miscarriage number two.

Life went on and I settled into my role as wife. We talked about wanting children. And maybe actually trying for some in a year or two. That time came and I went off the pill. And absolutely nothing happened…Month after month after month my period would arrive and disappointment would set it.

Thus began the endless trips to Doctors, Physicians and Reproductive Endocrinologist. Some good. Some quacks. I estimate I saw at least 10 different doctors in about a five year period. I visited a psychic. I was prayed over. Anything to help the cause, right???

And still my womb remained empty.

Steve was tested first, of course, and passed with flying colors. Then began my tests. Round after round of being poked, prodded, x-rayed, and clipped. Charts and thermometers and calendars’ became my constant companions. Sex became a chore and a bore!

I felt like a giant science experiment. I felt like a failure. I felt like a freak of nature.

This really couldn’t be that hard, could it? Having a baby is a natural process, right?

After about two years of this the diagnosis was unspecified Infertility…Most likely cause was I ovulated late or not at all.

I went on my first round of fertility drugs. I devoured every book and website I could find on the subject. I joined infertility websites, support groups, and spent an enormous amount of time in the forums trying to find answers.

I was obsessed with fixing myself. Making myself “normal”.

See, I couldn’t get it through my head. I had been pregnant. TWICE. So I was ridiculously hopeful. I felt for sure it would happen again. Eventually.

No one saw my tears. No one saw my anger. My guilt. My jealousy. I pushed ALL my emotions, doubts and fears deep down inside. I had to in an effort to wake up every day.

No one on the outside knows the range of feelings that being infertile brings. You can listen. You can empathize, but you have no idea until you have traveled the same path.

I was a big giant FAILURE. This is what I honestly told myself.

I could not do the one thing that women are MADE to do. What was WRONG with me?

Did God hate me? 

I was certain he did.What did I do? We were good people I thought…

Bad parents are a dime a dozen! Surely Steve and I could do better? Heck, some girls appear to get pregnant just by breathing it seemed. How could I not do this one very simple thing?


Tomorrow: Part Two of Dawn's Story

Image Credit: Hannah.org

Guest Post: The Mom She Should Have Been, Part One