My Trial

For those of you reading this who are mentioned in my story, please do not take offense. You have been key in my experiences and have taught me valuable lessons. Thank you!

Written February 28, 2014:

I was 5 years old, in kindergarten. My school memory book for kindergarten year asked to write what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote “mommy.” 




My freshman year of high school, the school counselors urged us to decide what we wanted to do with our lives after graduation. I told them I didn’t want to be a nurse or a dental hygienist or an elementary school teacher. I told them I wanted to be a mother. They wouldn’t accept that answer if I wanted to get credit on the assignment. One female counselor even pulled me aside and told me that I needed to have a real goal, a career that would actually get me somewhere. I told her I didn’t have any desire other than to be a mother. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but I didn’t let her crush my dream that was different than hers and most in my school. 

After graduating high school, I decided to attend college. School was always a debate in my mind- why do I need to go to school if all I want to do is be a mom? I don’t need to go to school to do that. But I went and received my associates in 2010. I then met my husband, the greatest man I’ve ever met. He made me his Queen on June 3, 2011.

I decided I wanted to finish my schooling, so I finished my bachelor’s degree in 2013. I graduated in something that followed my dream exactly- Marriage and Family Studies, which consisted of many parenting, child development, pregnancy, and family activity classes. In the beginning, I thought there wasn’t a degree offered by any school that could help me be a better mother, but I was wrong. This was just the one. I may never use it in a career where I’ll become a professional marriage or family counselor making thousands of dollars, but I know I have already used the knowledge many times in my marriage, and I learned priceless lessons on how to be a better parent and mother that I will use when I have children. I wish my freshman school counselor would have known about the Marriage and Family Studies degree- maybe then she could have helped me in my goal. 

Years before I was married, I was put on birth control because of extremely painful periods. I never took the sugar pill, so I hadn’t had a period for a couple of years. I was still on the pill when my husband and I were married. In my first semester of earning my Bachelors, just over 4 months after being married, an assignment in a parenting class was to read a talk given by President Kimball in 1973. I was lying in bed when I read the following: 

“I have told many groups of young people that they should not postpone their marriage until they have acquired all of their education ambitions. I have told tens of thousands of young folks that when they marry they should not wait for children until they have finished their schooling and financial desires. Marriage is basically for the family, and when people have found their proper companions there should be no long delay. They should live together normally and let the children come. When people have found their companions, there should be no long delay. Young wives should be occupied in bearing and rearing their children. I know of no scriptures where an authorization is given to young wives to withhold their families and to go to work to put their husbands through school. There are thousands of husbands who have worked their own way through school and have reared families at the same time” (Spencer W. Kimball, “Marriage is Honorable”). 

It hit me like an oncoming train. The Spirit was strong and instantly I had a feeling that we needed to start our family; we should not wait for children. I discussed with my husband my feelings and we prayed about our decision and felt that it was time to start our family. We were both so excited! My dream was about to come true! To me at the time, it was simple. I would stop taking birth control, wait for my period to come, have intercourse, get pregnant, and have a baby. I was sure. I was confident. After all, it’s how it worked for everyone else, or so I thought. 

The first week of October 2011, I stopped taking the pill. I was so excited when I was sitting in my Family Relations class and felt my period coming. I went to the restroom, and sure enough, I had started. This was exciting for me. I knew I had to start my period first before things could happen. 5 days later, my period ended, we did what was necessary, and then waited a couple of weeks. Talk about a long couple of weeks! My period was one day late, I sped to Wal-Mart, bought a pregnancy test, took it first thing when I got back home, negative. I was so disappointed. I started my period the next day. I wondered what went wrong, what happened? 



Over the next couple of months, I went through so many pregnancy tests. I was more and more discouraged after taking each one. I started to realize that I couldn’t keep doing what we were doing. I started talking to friends, family, and reading on the internet and in books. I came to the realization that some women have to keep track of things- periods, ovulation, intercourse, and discharge. I thought, “Okay, I’ll start keeping track of things, then I’ll know exactly when to have intercourse and then we’ll get pregnant. “ I got an app on my iPod where I kept track of everything. I knew “exactly” when I was ovulating. I Googled so many topics, I now know everything about trying to get pregnant and signs. 

By this point, friends who had decided they want to get pregnant around the same time we did, were pregnant and already knew the gender of their little one. I was extremely discouraged, upset, sad, disappointed, hurt, and confused. I hated attending baby showers. I hated attending get-togethers with girls; all we ended up talking about were what the women fed their babies, what kind of diapers they used, or how much sleep they lost the previous week. I hated it. I felt so left out. So I stopped attending. 

It was now March 2012. One evening, I received a phone call from my brother. I knew my brother and his wife of 5 months were with my family on vacation. I answered and said “Hello.” On the other end of the phone call, all I could hear was screaming and laughter, lots of excitement. I kept asking what was going on, but no one could hear me over the screaming. Finally, my brother said through the excitement, “We’re pregnant!” I said congratulations, and hung up on him. My heart was pounding so hard. I was so hurt and jealous. It was so unfair. We had been trying since before they were even married. What had I done wrong? 

Over the next few months, I tried my hardest to be happy for my brother and sister-in-law. I tried to be excited for my first niece. I tried to be happy for friends who were pregnant, but it just wasn’t working. I wasn’t happy for anyone. Every time someone else announced their pregnancy on Facebook, I would make a repulsive face, go into their page, find out how long they had been married, realize it had been shorter than my husband and I, and would be even more bitter. I held back tears every time I saw a mother in the grocery store with a car seat in the shopping cart and every time a lovely lady would walk into my work with a beautiful plump belly. Where had I fallen short? 

One thing that has bothered me the most over the course of this trial is the fact that many family members and close family friends have gotten pregnant and had babies out of wedlock, fresh out of high school. With this, the thing I have questioned most is my Heavenly Father. My feeling was that He had a child in His arms, two choices of families He could send him to, and he chooses the woman who is not married, not active in the gospel, has no father figure in the home and most likely doesn’t want to even be pregnant. I would ask myself why over and over again. It never added up in my mind. 



March 2013, Easter. My husband and I were at my in-laws for the holiday. My period was 3 days late. I did my best to not get my hopes up, but I couldn’t help but think of the possibility that my baby might be growing in me already. I would wait until Sunday morning, Easter Morning, to take the test, then surprise my husband with an Easter gift! It was Easter Morning, 5am. I was now 5 days late. I knew for sure I was pregnant. I hid the pregnancy test in a Wal-Mart sack under the bed, not wanting my husband to see it and ruin my surprise. I couldn’t wait any longer and my heart was pounding. I grabbed the test and went quietly to the bathroom. I knelt in prayer, resting my elbows on the toilet seat. I prayed, and then I took the test. Negative. I took another one immediately after, sure it was just a defect one. Negative. Why? My period was 5 days late! I wept and went back to bed. I had no Easter gift for my husband. 



After being asked when grandchildren were going to come, after being asked when cousins would come for our nieces and after almost 2 years of being full of despair and with any type of hope, I decided I would see a doctor. 
It was now June 2013. I swallowed my pride and my dreams, and tried to face the fact that I was infertile. The doctor did an ultrasound, which completely broke my heart. I always imagined there to be a tiny, precious baby in that most famous black and white picture. But mine showed nothing, nothing but a deformed uterus. The doctor listed the multiple issues I had, but wanted to study the things he had found, wanted my husband and I to get tests done, and then we would discuss things. 

Over the next few weeks, I had multiple blood tests, a glucose test; my husband was tested for multiple things. They all came back positive; everything looked fine. I wanted answers. I needed answers, but the doctor said that he would talk to some other doctors in Salt Lake and let us know when he was ready to discuss things with us. For the next 7 months, I waited for him to call. He never did. Yes, I could have been more proactive in finding out what was going on, but I was so frustrated. With little to no hope, it’s hard to be proactive and motivated. 

In the Fall of 2013, something happened. Something changed in me. I was attending a baby shower of a good friend. I had gotten better with baby showers. I needed friends, and if I wanted to keep the friends I had, I knew I had to support them. I tried to have nicer thoughts, participate in the games and oo and aw over the tiny baby clothes and blankets. While I was eating pretzels and drinking punch, us girls were just laughing and talking about girl things, when the mother-to-be turned to me and asked, “Tahshena, do you feel left out?” I honestly was confused at her question, so I asked, “What do you mean?” She said, “Well, everyone here is either pregnant or already has a baby but you.”I looked around and for the first time, I realized that I was the only one without a baby or pregnant. I looked at her and said, “No, I’m fine.” And to my surprise, I was okay. I will never understand why anyone would ever ask such a question; it’s almost as if Satan was wanting to throw me into a deep pit that would take weeks to climb out of. However, I was never upset with her that she asked that question. She taught me a really important lesson- I do not know what people are dealing with or going through, so I better be very careful what I say to others, to think before I speak. 

It was now January 2014, and I had made a decision to see a different doctor, hopefully someone who could give me answers, and if not answers, hope. My husband and I gave him all the information we had. I told him everything I knew, everything we had been experiencing. He prescribed me to a medication that would help me ovulate. Take it on day 3 of my period, take ovulation tests, have intercourse on the days the tests come back positive, take a blood test to see if actually ovulated, wait to see if I’m pregnant, and if not, be prescribed to another round. I asked him, “Doctor, how long do we do this until we move on to something else if it doesn’t work?” “Until you’re frustrated,” he said. "And once I'm frustrated?" "Well, we then may need to do surgery," he said. 

I started my period. I waited until day 3 of my period, took the pills for the next 5 days and waited until day 14 to take an ovulation test. The ovulation tests are the same as a pregnancy test- pee on it for 5 seconds and wait for 2 pink lines. I was excited to wake up and take the test. Thankfully, it came back positive, but seeing those small, 2 pink lines made me cry. They didn’t mean what I’ve always hoped they’d mean. But I was glad for what they did mean. It gave me hope. It wasn’t but just this week that I had the blood test done to see if I ovulated this month or not. The day the nurse called me to tell me that I did in fact ovulate was the day that my brother and sister-in-law found out they are having a baby boy for their second child. But this time, I am happy for them. And I love my niece more than anything!

Now, I’ll just wait and see if my period comes. It’s been a rough road, but there have been some very important lessons learned along the way: 

1. God knows me. He loves me. He hears my prayers. Things don’t seem fair to me or equal, but God knows exactly what He is doing and I need to trust in Him. That trust has grown, but is not near perfect. I am still working on that. 

2. I discussed this briefly before, but I do not know what people and couples and women are going through or experiencing, so I need to be sensitive, careful and nonjudgmental. Don’t give advice, just love and support. 

3. Just because I want something, even if it is a righteous desire, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen when I want it to happen. God is in charge. It’s when I try to be in charge that I get disappointed. 

4. I can’t let the disappointment and hurt overshadow the blessings that I already have. There is so much good in life. 

5. I’ve allowed my trial and learning experience help others, or at least I’ve tried. I have started to reach out to those I know who are going through the same experience and relying on each other. I’ve even made a good friend through reaching out. Support is the best medicine. 

6.I’ve learned to have patience and hope. It is most definitely not easy, and waiting sucks. Everything in trying to get pregnant for me requires waiting. I’ve learned patience in myself, in my husband, in others, and in God. 

Like Jamie says in a Walk to Remember, “Maybe God has a different plan for me than I have for myself.” 

I may never have a child of my own. I may never feel a tiny kick from inside myself, I may never feel the excruciating pain from contractions, I may never see those precious 2 pink lines, I may never get to pick a name from my long list of baby names, but I know that I am a daughter of God and that He loves me and that all losses will be made up in the after- life. 

Trust me, I don’t feel this positive every day. In fact, most days I don’t, but I must continue to remind myself of that testimony. I still hold onto hope that one day I will be pregnant and be able to give birth to our own baby, and I will work my hardest with the doctors to get things figured out and working, but I know in the end, things will always happen the way the Lord allows it to. 

“Have faith, have hope, live like His son, help others on their way.” –Primary song, “He sent His Son” 



Written March 22, 2014

About an hour after I wrote the previous post, I started my period.

My wonderful visiting teachers visited me last month. I told them briefly of my experience with infertility and they both gave me wonderful insights. One of them expressed her feelings of working on filling my time with worthwhile things. The quieter, downtime I have, the more time I have to sulk in my own pity. In the beginning, I would have taken offense to what she said, blaming her for not knowing what I was going through.

But now, I really thought about what she said. What could I do to fill my time and to not focus so much on trying to get pregnant? The impressions and feelings didn’t go away until I met with my bishop- be an ordinance worker at the temple.

 I had had the impression to do this work months previous, but I didn’t follow them until after my visiting teachers had come and helped. I met with my bishop, and just this last Thursday, the Rexburg Temple President set me apart as a temple worker.

The last few weeks have been hard, working with nurses, taking my medications and ovulation tests, and watching a mother trying to hold her baby and tie quilts at the same time during a Relief Society activity. But when the hard times pass, the good times come- a song comes on the BYU-Idaho radio on the way to work and the first line sung is “God blesses you in His own time,” or a story from President Monson’s life states “I never cease to be amazed by how the Lord can motivate and direct the length and breadth of His Kingdom and yet have time to provide inspiration concerning one individual.” It’s the little things like these that pop up randomly in my day that keep me going.

During these last two weeks, I had an aunt ask me what more reason I needed to have a baby than this, as she held up a little baby outfit. I also had a friend come up to me and congratulate me on my pregnancy. When I told her I wasn’t, she apologized. Although I do not blame or hold anything against them, it’s small things like these that constantly remind me that I lack one special quality.

I would rather have any sickness in the world than the stomach flu. I’d rather have leaches suck my blood. I hate puking. However, this morning when I woke, I thought of how much I longed for a stomachache. I thought of how throwing up this morning would have been nothing but a blessing. It would have given me hope, a sign that maybe I was pregnant. But instead, I felt perfectly fine.

I am excited to start working at the temple and continue to hope. 

“What if healing comes through tears and what if a thousand sleepless nights is what it takes to know You’re near.” –Laura Story, “Blessings”