When I was a teenager all I wanted to do is get married and start a family. I had of list of the children I was going to give birth to. All 12 of them. I had birth dates and names for them all. I had even included two sets of twins. But when I got married at 21 life didn't work out the way I had planned. All around me my friends were having babies, neighbors were having babies and teenagers I taught in church were having babies.
I went through every kind of fertility test available. I took my temperature every morning for years. I scheduled intimate moments for my most fertile time. (So romantic!) I took drugs, I had surgeries and then I volunteered to be a Guinea Pig at the University of Utah. My doctor at the U finally told me that I had multiple problems and my chances of ever having a natural child were so slim he wouldn't even give me a percentage of any chance. He told me to try adoption.
Those of you who have ever had fertility problems understand the turmoil you go through to accept the fact that you will not have natural children. It was a thought that was difficult to work around. But try for adoption was the choice. Two private adoptions fell through just weeks before each new baby was to be placed in my arms. Even today this is difficult to remember. Those of you who are going through this now, my heart goes out to you and I hope your time will be short and your ending joyful!
My doctor called once more and told me he had one more option. A new procedure that may work, or may not. So I scheduled the surgery for the Friday after Mothers Day 1985. Luckily for me, I was so sick on Mothers Day that I didn't have to face the dreaded Mothers Day Program at church. I knew that my time of the month would arrive that day. But it didn't....it didn't the next day or the next. I was as regular as a clock. Never even a second late and here I was getting ready for another surgery and my system was messed up.
During my pre-screening at the hospital they asked if there was a chance I was pregnant. I wanted to laugh, instead I cried and they took my blood anyway.
And a miracle happened......the hospital called and asked if I was Marrdy, yes I told them I was. They said your test is positive. I asked what test and they said my pregnancy test. I told them no, my name is Marrdy, that can't be my test. They then asked my full name and said yes your test is positive. I cried and cried and I still cry when I remember that day. One of the very best days of my life.
8 months later after 2 months of bed rest and 22 hours of labor I delivered a little boy by C section. A 5 pound 8 ounce, 18 inch son.
That first day was difficult. I was sick and Cole had been born with Poland Syndrome. No one, not the doctors, not anyone in the hospital knew what was wrong with him. They sent a nurse to sit with me that first night, just in case he didn't make it. He was born missing the middle bones of his fingers on his left hand and those fingers were webbed together. He was also missing his left peck muscle and his heart was pushed to the right side of his chest. I had a wonderful Pediatrician who researched this and came back to the hospital to give me an update. He was not sure what Cole's life would be like. When he was 9 days old he had his first of many trips to Primary Children's Medical Center in Salt Lake to have his heart looked at. I was drowning in self pity. Poor me. I had waited all these years for a child and may be loosing my baby. What a humbling day. After that day I was grateful for every moment I had with Cole. Grateful that his "problems" were so minimal. So very thankful that the Doctors said he was going to be fine. Just couldn't play football. (DANG!! Not.) Cole had to endure two surgeries to have his fingers separated and some plastic surgery. Plus follow ups with the Cardiologist to check his heart.
So today, January 7th, Cole is celebrating turning 23 years old today. Happy Birthday to the very first miracle of my life. The very answer to my prayers and the fulfilling of my dreams!