Caitlin and Mike's Baby Journey

This campaign is for Caitlin and Mike Ward, and their struggle to begin a family.  To share their story in my own words wouldn't speak enough to what the two of them have gone through, so I have posted their story in Caitlin's own words; a story which she wrote reflecting after her loss of a child (please see below).  My hope is that the money raised here will be a step for both of them in their dream to start a family; hope that they can have a child, even though the obstacles seem difficult.  

Caitlin and Mike's insurance reached the out-of-pocket max for infertility after only one try at In Vitro Fertilization.  And even after it didn't take, they kept trying two more times.  It is my hope that they can use this money to have another shot at trying to make the family they so desperately dream of having. 

I've set a goal of $3,000 to be reached by June 30th, 2016.  I know how much this would mean to them, and to all who support them.  Caitlin and Mike have always been great friends to all who know them, and we will continue to support them through this struggle.

Caitlin and Mike,
Your friends and family love you

A Miracle One Day, A Memorial the Next 
(By Caitlin Ward)

That woman in the post I shared earlier written by Nadirah Angail’s Mind Your Own Womb blog is a perfect representation of me… 31 years old and still no kids. The question comes up a lot when you’re our age, and most of our close friends and family know why. But we’ve decided to share our personal and intimate story with those who don’t know the whole story. Why you might ask? Because we know there are couples who have similar stories, who might find a little bit of peace and comfort in knowing they are not alone.
In the post I shared earlier the writer tells the story of many women in a beautifully written poetic fashion, and so I’ve decided to share our story in a similar way (with her permission – Thank you Nadirah), along with a video I had planned to post today (sadly for a different reason). Find the YouTube link to the video below.
There is a woman, 31 years old, no children (me). People ask, “still no kids?” My response varies, but it usually includes a forced smile and a “no, not yet” response. I hold back tears behind the smile, but when I’m alone…

…I cry

I cry because we tried for a couple years naturally and not once got a positive pregnancy test.

I cry because we tried everything we could think of; tracking my cycle, ovulation predictor kits, timed intercourse, sperm check, morning basal body temperatures, acupuncture, 4 cycles of Clomid and nothing worked.

I cry because my husband and I were both poked and prodded looking for reasons why it never worked.

I cry because we had to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist to find answers.

I cry because it’s me.

I cry because my ovaries aren’t functioning like they should for my age (AMH=0.35; elevated FSH).

I cry because I feel guilty; like I did something wrong.

I cry because I don’t know how much time/viable eggs I have remaining.

I cry because the doctor told us our best option at conceiving our own child, was to go straight to IVF (in vitro fertilization).

I cry because I didn’t respond to the stimulation drugs like most woman do.

I cry because after 3 IVF attempts, we finally made it to retrieval, but only had 4 eggs.

I cry because only 3 fertilized.

I cry because we transferred 2, but the one remaining didn’t survive to freeze.

I cry because of the 2 that we transferred, only one survived.

I cry because I read that poor responders to IVF have a greater risk of miscarriage.

I cry because it happened to me.

I cry because at 7 weeks we saw our miracle baby with a strong heartbeart, and 3 weeks later our babies heart stopped.

I cry when I look at our 10 week ultrasound and know that our baby is gone.

I cry because our baby measured 10 weeks and the heart had likely just stopped beating hours before our ultrasound.

I cry because the doctor had never seen this before, and made us come back the next day for another ultrasound to confirm.

I cry because the doctor told us that it wasn’t our fault, and that there was nothing we could have done differently.

I cry because as I write this, my baby is still inside me, because my D&C isn’t scheduled for a few more days.

I cry because our families were so excited, and are struggling with the loss of their grandchild.

I cry because I’m angry with God, but continue to pray for him to bring us peace.

I cry because every time I look at my husband, I see his pain, yet he stays strong for me.

I cry because I was looking forward to sharing these moments with 3 other expecting momma’s who were all due around the same time as us.

I cry because I’m no longer nauseous.

I cry because I no longer need nightly Progesterone shots.

I cry because I never got to share a baby bump picture.

I cry because during this journey, I found out 2 of my very dear friends had been struggling like us, and had already suffered through multiple miscarriages.

I cry because I was thankful then that I hadn’t had to suffer a loss like that.

I cry now, because I understand what they’ve been through and I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

I cry because we already had a list of names started.

I cry because we wanted to be surprised by the gender at delivery.

I cry because I already started planning the nursery in my head.

I cry because the room will remain empty for awhile.

I cry because I know that my birthday will always be a reminder (the day I found out for sure I was pregnant).

I cry because Christmas will never be the same (baby was due Dec. 22, 2016).

I cry because I know Mike will be a great father, and I want so badly to be able to make him a daddy.

I cry because I wear a bracelet on my wrist with a water lily charm, signifying beauty can come from turmoil.

I cry because I don’t know what our next steps or options are.

I cry because we met our lifetime maximum insurance benefit for infertility after our 1st IVF attempt.

I cry because we are already $$$$$’s of dollars in CC debt from our treatments and I don’t know how much more we can afford.

I cry for all of the beautiful couples who have battled infertility, been through IVF or other treatments, suffered a loss or multiple, told they were unable to have children, been through the hardships of the adoption process, prayed for a miracle, wished to start a family, or add to their existing family.

I cry happy tears for those who have won, and sad tears for those who have lost, for those who are still trying, and those who have given up.

I cry because I don’t know how we will get through this, but we will.

I cry because our motto this whole journey has been “one day at a time” and it’s still our motto today.

I cry because of the overwhelming love and support from friends and family we have received throughout our journey and these trying times.

I cry because I planned to publicly announce our pregnancy today, not write this.

I cry because the video attached to this post was supposed to end with a pregnancy announcement, not a memorial for our sweet angel.

I cry for my husband.

I cry for me.

And I know there will eventually come a day when I’ll no longer cry, but there will never be a day that I won’t remember why.

And lastly…Today, on this Memorial Day, I cry for the men, women, and families of those who gave their lives for the freedom that gives me this opportunity to share our story with you.

~ Poetic style credit to Nadirah Angail, writer of Mind Your Own Womb