MTHFR. No, I’m not trying to curse, although I’ll admit that mother ****er has slipped from my mouth on more than one occasion.
MTHFR, unheard of by me until a week and a half ago now takes on a new, unpronouncable meaning: Methylenetetrahydrofolate Reductase. I have it.
At the end of July Dave and I found out we were pregnant again. After having our first two pregnancies end in miscarriage earlier this year, we chose to keep this one relatively quiet. Weeks of all-day morning sickness passed, and in mid-August we were able to see a very small baby at our first ultrasound. We were elated! This was more than we had ever seen with the other two, and although they couldn’t hear the heartbeat (the technician said it was too early) we had scheduled another ultrasound for two weeks later.
Unfortunately, God had other plans for us again. Within a week of the ultrasound I started spotting, and on September 4, we had our third miscarriage at 12 weeks.
Dave and I were exhausted. We are blessed to each already have children whom we love with everything we’ve got. With that said, however, we would love to have a child together, a child who can bask in our love and enjoy a life where mom and dad love each other and will share the rest of their lives with each other. No split custody, no hard decisions to make on holidays, no absentee parent. We decided to give our emotions and my body a break and cease trying for a bit, however before my doctor would put me on birth control he wanted to run blood tests to see if there was a root cause for the miscarriages.
So, three weeks ago I had 24 vials of blood taken. 24. And the results came in positive except for one test which showed I have the MTHFR gene mutation. I looked it up on the internet (and honestly still don’t totally understand what I’m reading), and basically it means that my body isn’t absorbing folate. With folic acid so crucially important to a developing fetus, this isn’t good.
This Monday Dave and I went to my hematologist appointment. For me especially, the time waiting in the reception area shared by oncology put everything in perspective. Here we were, fretting over why we couldn’t keep a pregnancy, and we were surrounded by patients in all stages of cancer treatment. Bandanas covered their heads, sores were hidden by bandages, and the wear and tear of chemo was written all over so many of their faces. I felt suddenly… Fortunate…
While we may not be getting what we want, Dave and I aren’t being dealt what we don’t want. We’re healthy. Our children are healthy. We’ve got a roof over our heads, food in our cabinets, and a job to pay the bills. Dave’s college education is very successfully underway and courtesy of the U.S. military/government, and our cars are running.
And our house is full of love. Lots of love.
So while I may want to have a child with Dave, I don’t need anything. I am blessed with everything I need to live a happy, peaceful life. For that I must remember to thank God each and every day. He will give us what we need, when the time is right.
“Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.” ~Psalm 37:7