My journey with infertility took place more than thirty years ago. A time before the internet allowed women to research for answers regarding pregnancies or receive support when a miscarriage ended hopes and dreams. My story benefits from the passage of time because I can reflect back on how God’s plan developed through my difficult experiences and how He worked everything out for good. My first pregnancy was an exciting time. I had a sister and a sister-in-law who were also pregnant. I never even considered that anything could go wrong especially after I had surpassed the 12 week milestone. However, after one particular weekend of virtually feeling no baby movement, I lost a little boy. I was about four and a half months pregnant and miscarried at home. I can vividly recall every detail of that devastating time. My mom came down from Wisconsin to be with me. Many well-meaning people sent flowers, but I was left with the loss. I recall waking up in the morning and for a split second all was well. Then the reality of of what had occurred sank in and I felt that I couldn’t, nor did I desire to face the day. My mom strongly encouraged me to get up each day. I was the only person in my circle of friends who had suffered a miscarriage, and I know that they did not know how to deal with me or what to make of my situation. Since no one had dealt with infertility -- not a word in anyone’s vocabulary -- no one could relate.
Wendi with her Dad and Mom, George and Diane, as a baby.
One of my good friends at that time was Wendi’s mom, Diane. Within a few months, I became pregnant again, but miscarried after two months. My third pregnancy was going very well and I was within three weeks of my due date. At that time my water broke and I expectantly headed to the hospital, anxious to hold our new baby in my arms. When the nurse was checking for the baby’s heartbeat, she couldn’t find it. She searched for about 20 minutes but to no avail. There wasn’t any heartbeat. My baby had died. I delivered a little boy sometime later. Stillborn!! I begged my doctor to allow me to go home rather than endure being on the maternity floor and he agreed. My mom came down again ... there were flowers again. I recall that it took some time before I felt I could leave the security of my home. What if I ran into someone who wasn’t aware that I had lost my baby? My family questioned me regarding a funeral for the baby, but I was emotionally unable to go there. For my fourth and final pregnancy, I saw a high-risk specialist who was affiliated with Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami. I prayed so hard for this child. Seven months into the pregnancy, during a scheduled stress test, my doctor explained that the baby’s heartbeat was failing, and an emergency C-section was performed. Brant James was born at 2 lb. 2 oz. He went down to 1 lb. 10 oz.
From the beginning I knew that Brant was going to have difficulties. We were able to take him home when he was three months old and weighed in at 4 lbs. Brant did have major difficulties. He was profoundly retarded to the degree that he never walked, talked, or really knew who we were. He was difficult to feed and only a few people could handle this task. Wendi was one of these people and she certainly was the youngest. Wendi was about eleven or twelve when she began to help me by babysitting for Brant. What a gift from God!!