The truth about infertility is that it sucks the life out of you. It chews you up and swallows you down into the deep dark trenches of its ugly black hole, and spits you back out, leaving you with nothing but an empty pit in your stomach. It gives you scars, both mentally and physically. What I want you to know is that sometimes miracles DO happen, and they happen when you least expect them to.
Our journey with infertility started in 2015 when we decided to go off the pill and see what would happen. Eight months went by, and then I saw two lines on a pregnancy test. We did it! We were going to be parents! That feeling was short-lived. The pregnancy was a complicated one according to doctors, but then a heartbeat was detected, and we were reassured. At the next appointment, we were told what no expectant couple ever wants to hear, “I’m sorry, there is no longer a heartbeat, you no longer have a viable pregnancy.” After that first loss, we remained hopeful. We tried and tried and tried. Trying did not work. We were referred to a reproductive endocrinologist.
At the first Infertility clinic, we tried ALL. THE. THINGS. We did all the tests. Nothing. We opted to try an IUI. The first one failed and we did a second IUI. My husband asked what the chances were that the IUI would work for us. “There is less than a 10% chance, but miracles do happen,” the RE told us in a somewhat sarcastic tone. After that comment and our second negative result, we moved clinics. Our hopefulness was diminishing.
Bring on the IVF! What no one tells you about IVF, is that everything seems to move in slow motion. I thought we would breeze through it all in a few months, but our process took one and a half years. Our first retrieval and the first transfer were both successes. It worked – we were pregnant again! At our six-week appointment, a heartbeat was detected. At the eight-week appointment, it was gone. It felt like I had had my heart ripped out of my chest. I had pricked myself in the stomach and the butt over and over, swallowed so many pills and all for nothing. We knew the gender of our baby and even had a name picked out. I felt so alone. The doctors had no idea why we could not keep a viable pregnancy. I dug myself into a deep, dark hole of depression, and I stayed in there for a long time.
After our second frozen embryo transfer was unsuccessful, we all but gave up completely. My doctor wanted to do more testing and a surgery on my uterus. To start the process, I needed to call my nurse with my next period. It never came. Instead, we got our miracle baby. That miracle just turned one 😊.