I’m an English teacher, so naturally, when something new, interesting, or unknown arises, my first instinct is to research to try to be as prepared and informed as possible. When preparing for our first fertility treatment, I read nearly every single credible article that was ever written on PCOS, testicular biopsies, maturation arrest, and IUI. Once the decision was made to pursue IVF, I read all of those articles too. I even read a book on the inventors of IVF. Like I said, I like to be as informed as possible. It is proven that preparation leads to success. They say knowledge is power, right?
There are so many resources out there for women and men who are preparing to become parents. They have a plethora of well-known books readily available like, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, “Baby Wise”, “Belly Laughs”, and thousands more. There always seems to be information accessible for the majority. Notably, majority of couples have no problems starting a family. Majority of couples don’t spend hours at the doctor’s office, running hundreds of tests, spending thousands of dollars. Majority of couples seem to get pregnant by “accident”. However, there aren’t many resources out there for grieving men and women who struggle with infertility. No one writes a book that tells you “what to expect when you’re not expecting”, or “how to cope when your $18,000 fertility treatment fails.” This is where we are now. Still not expecting. Still coping with the fact that yet another expensive fertility treatment has failed. Except this time, I am stuck with no research, no books, and no knowledge.
This summer after my very successful egg retrieval, we were told that we would have to wait until January to transfer due to the fact that my superwoman ovaries prevented us from having a fresh transfer due to the fact that they produced too much estrogen and were hyper stimulated from medications. However, one day I got a call from the office saying that a spot opened up in September. I had just accepted the fact that we’d have to wait at least six months for a transfer, but then miraculously a spot opened up. It’s been proven that I don’t necessarily have that type of luck. We were absolutely stunned that we would be preparing for an actual transfer in just two short months. To me, this was a sign-- a sign that I was meant to get pregnant soon. Consequently, I spent my entire summer preparing my body for my first FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer). I spent most days preparing injections at my kitchen table, counting down the days on our fertility calendar, and looking forward to the day when I’d be “almost pregnant”.
September 12th was the day. I was scheduled to go in for the transfer that would allow the doctor to place two of our embryos directly into my uterus. The success rate of this particular transfer is anywhere from 65-75%. According to my doctor, I was at the higher end of that spectrum for many reasons. The main reason is my age. He said because I am young, have quality embryos and the way my body had been responding to the injections, that I’d have a 70-75% of getting pregnant. Needless to say, I entered in with confidence.
As a part of the preparation, we knew that we needed to make a plan for all options involving the transfer, even though one of those plans did in fact include a bare womb. We entered into this consciously knowing that even though the success rate is high, there wasn’t any guarantee. To be frank, there were three options: first, the transfer would work and we’d get pregnant with a baby. Second, the transfer would work and we’d get pregnant with TWO babies. Or, the third, the transfer would fail and we would be $18,000 in the hole with broken hearts and shattered spirits. Expectedly, this wasn’t an easy conversation. There were countless tears shed. We expressed our deepest fears, but also knew this could potentially be the end of our infertility journey, which is always enough to take the chance.
Even after visiting the unwanted outcomes, every moment that led up to the day of the retrieval just felt right. Despite the flood that swept through our community, I was able to make it to every single ultrasound to check my lining and every single blood draw to check my hormones. Anxiety was high because despite the weather, this was the most important thing going on for me. I had so much money, time, and emotion invested into this for it to be cancelled. Again, I saw this as another one of those signs. I felt like I could literally move through hell and high water to make sure this transfer would happen. Along with the flood, Augie and I decided we wanted to sell our starter home and purchase a bigger home. Not just any home, but the home that he grew up in. For us, this was the perfect opportunity to start over. Normally, this process has the reputation of being a headache, but surprisingly, our experience was rather smooth. For a third time, it seemed like I was being sent yet another sign. We would sell our house quickly, settle into our new home and maybe a few months later bring a new baby into that home. I felt like for the first time in a very long time, things were working out in our favor. There was a renewed hope that surfaced.
On the day of the procedure, Augie and I got up early, ate breakfast together, and talked about what the next 9 months could look like for us. We joked about me getting morning sickness, and he teased that I’d probably have all these weird cravings since my diet normally consists of French fries, candy, and pickles anyway. We were playful. We walked into the waiting room and “The Final Countdown” was playing. Augie was so pumped! We were laughing and excited. The whole thing seemed to pass by so quickly. Before we went back for the transfer my doctor handed me a picture of our embryo. This was when it hit me. I know this may sound silly, but for me this would be the closest I’d ever been to being pregnant.
The days that followed the transfer were full of emotions. For some reason, I didn’t feel excitement anymore. I was overcome with anxiety. I had built up this confidence because I’d been giving myself all of the shots for the previous treatments. This time it was different. The shots for this round were intramuscular. I had to inject them into my hip, which is almost impossible to do to yourself. Along with keeping up with which medication needed to be given on which day, I had to make sure I could schedule it so that someone else could give them to me. For me, I felt so vulnerable. I hated that someone had to help me. The first three days I had to be on strict bed rest. On day four, I started to experience weird pinches in my ovaries. For a minute, I thought it could’ve been implantation, but then that night I felt something familiar. I started to feel period cramps. I’ve always said that I know my body. No one will ever be able to tell me otherwise. I knew on night four that what I was experiencing was something that I felt every month. I tried to keep a positive attitude and keep occupied so I wouldn’t dwell on the fact that in the back of my mind I knew what was happening inside my body.
For the next six days I completely avoided the at home pregnancy test. It wasn’t until the morning of my scheduled beta that I worked up the courage to finally pee on a stick. I couldn’t let the news be broken over the phone by my sweet nurse who has been there rooting for me throughout this entire process. I didn’t sleep a wink on that night before the tenth day. I woke up before my alarm and sat in the bathroom for 10 minutes staring at the box full of unopened pregnancy test. I silently sobbed. After waiting 2-3 minutes, I realized I was looking at yet another negative test. This negative felt different than the ones before it. This was like the mother of all negatives. I hid the test in the bottom of the trashcan and got ready for my appointment. I cried the whole way to the doctor’s office on the phone with my sister. I was going to allow myself to grieve even though I thought I prepared myself for this outcome. I don’t really have any words that can even come close to describe what I felt and what I feel. The emptiness is stronger than ever and I feel broken. This outcome just doesn’t make sense. I was the perfect patient on paper. I’m young and according to the grading scale, my embryos were nearly perfect. I can’t make sense of it despite how much I research or despite how many questions I ask. It just didn’t work.
At this moment, I cannot say what lies ahead for our future. I do know we meet with our doctor in a few weeks for a consultation. It’s really just protocol for after a failed transfer. I also know I’m going to try to take a break from all the treatments until I feel I am healed. Right now my mind, my body, and my spirit are battered. In the last 12 months, I have been going through some type of fertility treatment. Whether it was oral medication, IUI, HSG, egg retrievals, uterine scratches, estrogen patches, shots, etc. I am honestly both physically and emotionally exhausted. I feel like I haven’t been myself for a while. I need to discover who I am without infertility. I’ve let it take complete control of my life for far too long. I’m going to focus on my marriage, my job, moving into a new house, and getting healthy. I don’t care how old I am or how many people around me have babies. Things are going to happen for us, but we’ll just be on a different timeline. We are not giving up. I am not losing hope. If anything, I am making sure I am a better person so one day I can become the mom that I know I’m meant to be.
There are so many resources out there for women and men who are preparing to become parents. They have a plethora of well-known books readily available like, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, “Baby Wise”, “Belly Laughs”, and thousands more. There always seems to be information accessible for the majority. Notably, majority of couples have no problems starting a family. Majority of couples don’t spend hours at the doctor’s office, running hundreds of tests, spending thousands of dollars. Majority of couples seem to get pregnant by “accident”. However, there aren’t many resources out there for grieving men and women who struggle with infertility. No one writes a book that tells you “what to expect when you’re not expecting”, or “how to cope when your $18,000 fertility treatment fails.” This is where we are now. Still not expecting. Still coping with the fact that yet another expensive fertility treatment has failed. Except this time, I am stuck with no research, no books, and no knowledge.
This summer after my very successful egg retrieval, we were told that we would have to wait until January to transfer due to the fact that my superwoman ovaries prevented us from having a fresh transfer due to the fact that they produced too much estrogen and were hyper stimulated from medications. However, one day I got a call from the office saying that a spot opened up in September. I had just accepted the fact that we’d have to wait at least six months for a transfer, but then miraculously a spot opened up. It’s been proven that I don’t necessarily have that type of luck. We were absolutely stunned that we would be preparing for an actual transfer in just two short months. To me, this was a sign-- a sign that I was meant to get pregnant soon. Consequently, I spent my entire summer preparing my body for my first FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer). I spent most days preparing injections at my kitchen table, counting down the days on our fertility calendar, and looking forward to the day when I’d be “almost pregnant”.
September 12th was the day. I was scheduled to go in for the transfer that would allow the doctor to place two of our embryos directly into my uterus. The success rate of this particular transfer is anywhere from 65-75%. According to my doctor, I was at the higher end of that spectrum for many reasons. The main reason is my age. He said because I am young, have quality embryos and the way my body had been responding to the injections, that I’d have a 70-75% of getting pregnant. Needless to say, I entered in with confidence.
As a part of the preparation, we knew that we needed to make a plan for all options involving the transfer, even though one of those plans did in fact include a bare womb. We entered into this consciously knowing that even though the success rate is high, there wasn’t any guarantee. To be frank, there were three options: first, the transfer would work and we’d get pregnant with a baby. Second, the transfer would work and we’d get pregnant with TWO babies. Or, the third, the transfer would fail and we would be $18,000 in the hole with broken hearts and shattered spirits. Expectedly, this wasn’t an easy conversation. There were countless tears shed. We expressed our deepest fears, but also knew this could potentially be the end of our infertility journey, which is always enough to take the chance.
Even after visiting the unwanted outcomes, every moment that led up to the day of the retrieval just felt right. Despite the flood that swept through our community, I was able to make it to every single ultrasound to check my lining and every single blood draw to check my hormones. Anxiety was high because despite the weather, this was the most important thing going on for me. I had so much money, time, and emotion invested into this for it to be cancelled. Again, I saw this as another one of those signs. I felt like I could literally move through hell and high water to make sure this transfer would happen. Along with the flood, Augie and I decided we wanted to sell our starter home and purchase a bigger home. Not just any home, but the home that he grew up in. For us, this was the perfect opportunity to start over. Normally, this process has the reputation of being a headache, but surprisingly, our experience was rather smooth. For a third time, it seemed like I was being sent yet another sign. We would sell our house quickly, settle into our new home and maybe a few months later bring a new baby into that home. I felt like for the first time in a very long time, things were working out in our favor. There was a renewed hope that surfaced.
On the day of the procedure, Augie and I got up early, ate breakfast together, and talked about what the next 9 months could look like for us. We joked about me getting morning sickness, and he teased that I’d probably have all these weird cravings since my diet normally consists of French fries, candy, and pickles anyway. We were playful. We walked into the waiting room and “The Final Countdown” was playing. Augie was so pumped! We were laughing and excited. The whole thing seemed to pass by so quickly. Before we went back for the transfer my doctor handed me a picture of our embryo. This was when it hit me. I know this may sound silly, but for me this would be the closest I’d ever been to being pregnant.
The days that followed the transfer were full of emotions. For some reason, I didn’t feel excitement anymore. I was overcome with anxiety. I had built up this confidence because I’d been giving myself all of the shots for the previous treatments. This time it was different. The shots for this round were intramuscular. I had to inject them into my hip, which is almost impossible to do to yourself. Along with keeping up with which medication needed to be given on which day, I had to make sure I could schedule it so that someone else could give them to me. For me, I felt so vulnerable. I hated that someone had to help me. The first three days I had to be on strict bed rest. On day four, I started to experience weird pinches in my ovaries. For a minute, I thought it could’ve been implantation, but then that night I felt something familiar. I started to feel period cramps. I’ve always said that I know my body. No one will ever be able to tell me otherwise. I knew on night four that what I was experiencing was something that I felt every month. I tried to keep a positive attitude and keep occupied so I wouldn’t dwell on the fact that in the back of my mind I knew what was happening inside my body.
For the next six days I completely avoided the at home pregnancy test. It wasn’t until the morning of my scheduled beta that I worked up the courage to finally pee on a stick. I couldn’t let the news be broken over the phone by my sweet nurse who has been there rooting for me throughout this entire process. I didn’t sleep a wink on that night before the tenth day. I woke up before my alarm and sat in the bathroom for 10 minutes staring at the box full of unopened pregnancy test. I silently sobbed. After waiting 2-3 minutes, I realized I was looking at yet another negative test. This negative felt different than the ones before it. This was like the mother of all negatives. I hid the test in the bottom of the trashcan and got ready for my appointment. I cried the whole way to the doctor’s office on the phone with my sister. I was going to allow myself to grieve even though I thought I prepared myself for this outcome. I don’t really have any words that can even come close to describe what I felt and what I feel. The emptiness is stronger than ever and I feel broken. This outcome just doesn’t make sense. I was the perfect patient on paper. I’m young and according to the grading scale, my embryos were nearly perfect. I can’t make sense of it despite how much I research or despite how many questions I ask. It just didn’t work.
At this moment, I cannot say what lies ahead for our future. I do know we meet with our doctor in a few weeks for a consultation. It’s really just protocol for after a failed transfer. I also know I’m going to try to take a break from all the treatments until I feel I am healed. Right now my mind, my body, and my spirit are battered. In the last 12 months, I have been going through some type of fertility treatment. Whether it was oral medication, IUI, HSG, egg retrievals, uterine scratches, estrogen patches, shots, etc. I am honestly both physically and emotionally exhausted. I feel like I haven’t been myself for a while. I need to discover who I am without infertility. I’ve let it take complete control of my life for far too long. I’m going to focus on my marriage, my job, moving into a new house, and getting healthy. I don’t care how old I am or how many people around me have babies. Things are going to happen for us, but we’ll just be on a different timeline. We are not giving up. I am not losing hope. If anything, I am making sure I am a better person so one day I can become the mom that I know I’m meant to be.