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Woman's World Magazine
December 18, 2001
A woman's story
"Miracles do happen!"
Kristen Magnacca had a loving family and friends, but no one who truly understood how it felt to long for a baby and not be able to have one. So she turned to her journal, never realizing the miracles it would lead to...
Up and down the street, festive lights on gaily decorated Christmas trees shone through frosted windows. But then, there was Kristen Magnacca's Upton, Massachusetts, home.
Kristen's windows were dark but for the dim light of a lamp. And inside, curled on the couch, she sat alone.
Gently, she caressed her stomach, once filled with life, now empty with loss. No one understands my pain, she despaired. And with eyes full of tears, she reached for her journal.
Kristen bought her first journal a decade earlier, when she was single and running a day-care center.
How she loved spending her days pouring juice and playing games. And in the pages that quickly filled up, she wrote about her longing for a child of her own — a dream she believed would come true after marrying Mark Magnacca in 1995.
But two months passed, then six. A year...
At 33, mamy of the women Kristen knew were having second babies.
Today, out with Jane and Ginny, the conversation turned to Jane's pregnancy, she wrote in her journal. It turns out Ginny is pregnant, too. It took all of my strength to make it through brunch...
"What's wrong with me?" Kristen asked her doctor.
Tests showed Kristen had cysts on both fallopian tubes and scarring from endometriosis. She'd need surgery. And Mark had a low sperm count, and would need surgery too.
Finally! Kristen breathed when both procedures were successful. But months later, there was still no baby.
The suggestion now: hormone pills and injections. There was blood tests and ultrasounds as they prepared for artificial insemination — which didn't work.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said solemnly when Kristen got her period.
I feel like a failure, Kristen wrote in her journal, but she wouldn't give up. And after another insemination...
"You're pregnant!" her doctor beamed.
Thank You, God, she wrote. Thank You!
As the weeks passed, she and Mark happily planned the nursery.
But at seven weeks...
"Something's wrong!" Kristen cried to Mark as pain seared her abdomen. And at the hospital...
"I'm sorry. It's an ectopic pregnancy," the doctor said. "The baby is growing in your fallopian tube. If we don't take the baby..."
"No... no," she moaned.
Home after surgery, Kristen fell into a depression.
It's almost Christmas," friends told her. "Why don't we help you put up a tree?"
Kristen shook her head. "There will be no tree this year."
And while families enjoyed warm holiday moments, Kristen poured her hear out into her journal.
It's the loneliest feeling to want something so badly and know it's out of your reach. I need to talk to someone who truly understands.
Mark thought so, too. And at his suggesion, Kristen agreed to join a couples infertility counseling group.
Talking with other women helped, but her heart still longed for a baby. And she couldn't help but reread the words that charted her sad odyssey.
Hysterosalpiogram... endometrial biopsy... Clomid... intrauterine...
It looks like a foreign language, Kristen thought. It was her once. But now she understood each word, and the pain that went with them.
"If I'd had a book like my journal to read, maybe things would have been easier," she told her friend, Roseanne, the next day.
"Well, why don't your turn it into a book?" Roseanne asked. Think of all the women you could help."
Kristen laughed. "Don't be silly. I'm not a writer."
But Roseanne's words lingered in her ears.
Can something good come from all this? she wondered. Maybe other women feel the same way. Maybe I can help.
"Sounds great!" Mark smiled when she told him.
Kristen excitedly pored over her journal, dividing it into chapters, adding moments she remembered. And to her surprise, not all of it brought tears.
Mark was told he had to leave a sperm sample, she wrote, and recalling him blush, she laughed out loud.
By now, she and Mark opted to put off trying to have a baby. They decided to treat themselves to a cruise, but two days before they were to leave...
"Oooh," Kristen winced, holding her lower stomach.
"What?" Kristen winced, holding her lower stomach.
"No, it's more of a discomfort," Kristen said.
Still, while at the drugstore shopping for the trip, she couldn't help but pause in front of the home pregnancy tests. Could I be...?
Just for Mark's peace of mind, she told herself, grabbing a test kit.
But later...
"Mark!" she shouted. "It's positive!"
They were excited but fearful. What if something goes wrong? they worried.
But the next day...
"That's the heart beating steady," the doctor smiled.
"Mark," she choked. "Cancel the cruise. I want to stay home and enjoy every minute of being pregnant!
But Kristen couldn't forget her journey, so as her belly grew, so did her book.
Wear a skirt so you don't have to get fully undressed for your ultrasounds... List five things every day you're grateful for... Dress up for no reason.
Put on bed rest when she dilated early, Kristen had plenty of time to write–and to bond with her baby.
"I love you, little one" she'd whisper.
And on September 21st, 1998, Cole came wailing into the world. "I've waited so long for you," Kristen gently kissed his head.
Filled with the joy of motherhood, Kristen began writing again. Girlfriend to Girlfriend: A Fertility Companion hit bookshelves last November.
Today, Kristen is a friend to countless women suffering the pain of infertility. She's also a board member of an organization that provides information to infertile couples. But the job she loves most is...
"Mommy!" three-year-old Cole cries from where he sits beneath the twinkling Christmas tree, playing with a toy train.
And Kristen smiles, imagining how thrilled he'll be on Christmas morning when he finds new toys waiting for him.
"To have Cole in our lives is our greatest blessing," she says. "Miracles do happen. I believe it with all my heart."
—Dianne G
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Buying the right materials. Don't spend a lot on a book that you're afraid to write in. If you like a particular pen, buy an extra for your journal.