Woman of Science, Woman of Faith

The double pink line. The positive blood test. The sound of the first heartbeat. Our bodies are chemically and physically adapting to a new state. Rapid division of cells and foundations of life are taking hold within us. The framework of a child is developing quickly – our cognitive brain can barely keep up with the pace. We soon realize that it is out of our control – We are at its mercy. We surrender to the pregnancy – and the essence of motherhood starts to sink in.

Then something happened. Some of us never felt a movement within. Some of us felt movement frequently until one day – we didn’t. Some of us had to lay on a table with a mask over our face – we had to count back from ten then wake up with an empty womb. Some of us had to be awake to push…and felt numb from the waist down – wishing we could be numb forever. Some of us had to be cut open and sewn back together. Some of us never even heard our babies cry. Some of us watched their last from outside of a tiny plastic box. Some of us went home with a box of mementos… some of us only have faded memories. Some of us were told not to worry and we could try again. Some of us were told if we did - we could die.

What connects us – is that we once had life inside of us. Life that was intended to be with us long as we grew old. Life that was supposed to outlast us. But for whatever the reason – that life was cut short. The initial reaction is to go inward: “What did I do?” “Is there anything I did wrong?” “Is there anything I could have done?” Some of us have a concrete answer, a reason – a diagnosis. Some of us just have unanswered questions. But just as that life developed out of our control – so did the end of it. And just as your body adapted to the pregnancy long before your cognitive brain– your body will heal much faster while the mind struggles to keep up.

The human body is absolutely fascinating. It is one of the reasons why I pursued the nursing profession. It can withstand a tremendous amount of physical trauma, blood loss, stress, or infection. It can be pushed to the brink and then pushed some more. The resilience is astounding. Even when we blame our bodies for failing us, for failing our babies, it perseveres and redeems itself. It closed our wounds, it fought off infection, it replenished our blood. As hard as it is - Set anger and blame aside and truly appreciate your body for healing its wounds…for healing you.

As marvelous as the human body is – I am not here to talk about the healing of physical wounds. I am here to talk about the healing properties of the heart and the mind.

At the fertility clinic, I see couples at their most raw and vulnerable points in their life. They believe they are physically broken and their hope is threadbare. They are physically, emotionally, and financially stressed - and the outcome is not a guaranteed positive. Even if they “graduate” with a developing pregnancy – it is not guaranteed that they will take their baby home in their arms.

I was blessed with meeting a lovely couple – both of whom were physicians and understood their diagnosis inside and out. They knew the risks, they knew their chances, and they pursued treatment with both eyes wide open. For those of you not familiar with IVF treatment – the woman undergoes several subcutaneous shots (usually between 3-5 per day) for about 12-14 days. This pushes the ovaries to develop as many eggs as possible to be extracted through a surgical procedure. The eggs are then fertilized with the male’s sperm and cultured in our lab. The couple can then opt to have the embryos genetically screened for certain disorders like Down’s Syndrome before moving forward with another round of injections to prep the uterus for a pregnancy. This is where the embryo is now re-introduced to the uterine environment. Treatment can be as short as three months to upwards of several years depending on the couples’ course. This couple had opted to have their embryos screened for genetic disorders before proceeding with a pregnancy. The first treatment ended with only two embryos – both were abnormal and not indicated for a healthy pregnancy. When a patient has a failed cycle – we must wait for her period and try again from scratch. This means more medications, more office visits, more stress, more doubt, and usually less hope. Their second cycle yielded two embryos again – however the embryos didn’t survive to the testing stage. I remember making that phone call. She was driving and had pulled over to speak to me. She sobbed uncontrollably and my heart ached for her. She thanked me for my time and patience and we discussed coming in for a follow-up appointment the next week with the physician. She agreed that she needed closure. At that appointment she did not want to attempt another round. Her husband had gotten a job offer in a different state and she would follow him there in about four months while she closed her practice. I gave her a goodbye gift – a vial of baby dust.

The vial I gave her contained nothing more than store-bought glitter with pretty craft ribbon around it. On the surface, it was a sweet token of my affection. I wanted her to know that her struggles mattered and her heartache was shared. I wanted her to know that she was in my thoughts even if she was no longer a patient of the practice. She was a woman with a tremendous heart and I had so much hope for her to be a mother – no matter what that picture inevitably looked like.

A few months passed and I continued with the comings and goings with patients at the clinic. One day, I happened to receive an email from that particular patient. It stated, very simply, “Megan, I have kept your vial of baby dust on my nightstand and I look at it every day. I wanted you to be the first to know…I’m pregnant. I think it worked!”

Now - This is a woman of science – she has committed her life to the practice of medicine and empirical evidence. The same empirical evidence that told her that her ovaries were sluggish, her eggs were unhealthy, and that her body was broken.

I am also a woman of science. I have devoted the last decade in understanding women’s health and reproductive medicine. But I am also a woman of faith. Do I believe that a simple token created a pregnancy for her? Absolutely I do. Because to her – that was not a glass bottle full of craft glitter. It was a symbol of hope, a representation of unconditional love and support. It was a message that one day…her baby would come.

Before she moved, she came into the clinic for an ultrasound to verify the health of the pregnancy. There it was – a little gummy bear with a flickering heartbeat. She cried knowing that this was the first hurdle of many until the finish line. That little gummy bear will be a year old in February.

This is just one story of a patient that is near and dear to me. There are several others that came to mind when I was composing this speech. They all contain elements of tragedy, heartache, loss, trauma, guilt, pain, and shame. The same emotions that I’m sure bleed through your stories as well. The remarkable thing about this story is that she didn’t let her struggles define her. She was more than a combination of bad luck and an unfortunate medical diagnosis.

After a trauma, the body repairs, the mind tries to forget - but it’s the heart that forgives both the body and the mind. The heart convinces the mind to have hope. Time and time again I have seen hope triumph. Sometimes you have to be reminded that others are hopeful for you as well. I truly believe that the amount of hope in the world is directly proportionate to its strength to produce good things. The same is true with fear. It has been scientifically proven that fear and anxiety is directly related to poor outcomes due to increased stress and decreased healing properties within the body. There are numerous published articles in medical journals on this topic. But we are hard pressed to find any about hope. So why is science so afraid of giving hope the same credit that they give fear? I’ll let you sit with that for a moment…for that is another discussion for a different time.

Over nearly ten years, I have seen life emerge and death succumb. I have wiped away women’s tears just as I have wiped my own. I have felt life grow inside of me and I have grown a life for someone else. I have squealed with glee with our tiny victories and I have spent sleepless nights thinking of the losses. I am here as a testament that someone is thinking of you – when you might forget about them; that someone has love and support for you – when you feel like you have nothing left to give. Someone has hope for you – even if you feel that it is lost.

I will leave you today with a quote from one of my favorite scientists (albeit they are a fictional character – it doesn’t make these words any less true), “If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us, it’s that life will not be contained. Life breaks free, it expands to new territories and crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously but…Life finds a way.”