How I Became and Overcame Being The 1% By Maxie Marans

Finally acclimated into suburban life, with my son Russell at 2.5 years old my husband and I decided it was time to have another baby. Well, I decided it was time, my husband wanted to know why we were complicating a life that seemed to just start to feel uncomplicated. But, like many back and forths, I won out on this one and the trying began.

I had gotten pregnant with my first at 23 years old, fairly easily with only a chemical pregnancy on the path of his conception. At the time that seemed traumatic, but at the time I also thought having sex meant you got pregnant, simple enough.

This time around, at 27, I felt smarter, I knew more and I was ready for the months of trying without frustration (ok some frustration) when it didn’t stick to then get a positive pregnancy test. I was mentally prepared for all of that but I couldn’t possibly have prepared myself for what actually happened.

After 4 months of trying and continuing to keep myself from becoming discouraged I was 8 days into my period (which isn’t normal for my cycle) when I decided that I didn’t feel like myself and I wanted to take a pregnancy test. The test came back positive. I wasn’t sure how to respond, was I pregnant? Was it another chemical pregnancy? I consulted with my doctor who suggested I go for blood tests to check my HCG hormone levels. These blood tests continued for 6 weeks, every two days with 3 sonograms mixed in. My numbers fluctuated, my sonograms showed nothing. My iron levels were dropping from the continued bleeding and all the while I just wanted to know that both the potential baby and I were okay.

On December15, 2015, alone in my house with my son napping in his crib I felt pains that were similar to those of labor and could barely hold a telephone to call family for help. The rest happened in a fast blur. I ended up in the emergency room, having emergency surgery to have my right fallopian tube removed because I had an ectopic pregnancy that ruptured. The pain I felt was the ball of cells that never made it down into my uterus growing so large it ripped my fallopian tube open and I now had blood leaking into my abdomen. Like many women before me, in an effort to create life I put my own at risk and it was terrifying.

Once the 8 weeks passed and I was healed from surgery I was grateful when my period came and my doctor gave the okay to once again start trying to conceive. Now I was faced with the question of, was I ready? Could I put myself in the position again to dive into the unknown waters of conception? Could I be selfish enough to put my family, my 3 year old son, through another potential difficult time in order to fill my own maternal desires?

After discussing it with my husband and seeking outside help from a wonderful therapist we came to the conclusion that the only way to move on was to move forward. That the happiness that stems from becoming parents and watching children grow is worth it all, and what we are willing to give up as parents, as mothers, is so great and soul filling it is always worth climbing life’s largest mountain to obtain. After my first month of trying I became pregnant with my younger son Jaren. I brought a life into this world once again and all that had happened moved to the back of my mind when I held my baby in my arms and (one fallopian tube short) felt so whole.

I am a stay at home mother of two boys trekking through my 20’s with dirty diapers, goofy moments and laughing off the tougher ones with my high school sweetheart of a husband. There is no place I would rather be.