3 miscarriages, 1 balanced translocation, 2 failed rounds of IVF, 1 rainbow baby. In honor of NIAW and with a goal of destigmatizing infertility – here is our story.
When our first miscarriage came at 8 weeks, I was heartbroken. The next two were easier in a way, as I no longer believed I would have a baby – ever. At the onset of my second miscarriage I was travelling for work and can remember talking to my husband from the bathroom at the Bellagio. He urged me to come home, but I didn’t want to sacrifice my career because my body was failing me. Instead I did what any of us strong women would do – I nailed my presentation and then ate a lot of conference creme brulee.
After our third loss, we saw a RE and discovered that our balanced translocation diagnosis gave us a 70% chance of miscarriage. We moved forward with IVF but unfortunately I did not respond well to treatment. Two different fertility clinics and protocols, neither producing viable embryos for a transfer. My body was failing me again.
Our wallets and my crumpling mental state drove us to stop further rounds. I hugged my step-daughter and focused on the happiness she brought me. My husband and I started working on a business venture. There was sadness and shame, but also some relief – infertility is exhausting.
And then I got pregnant, the old-fashioned way. Due to our history of recurrent loss there were more blood tests. More transvaginal ultrasounds. More anxiety. When we hit 20 weeks without a miscarriage, and our OB had answered every question that I could google on the internet, we felt hope. And at 37 weeks, we had our Leo.
There isn’t a moral of this story – we didn’t “just relax” and get pregnant. I am mad at myself for thinking my body was failing. Fertility is complex. My body went on to carry a healthy baby, deliver him without meds, and feed him for a year. We are strong. Sometimes we just need help.
The more times I share our story, the more stories are shared with me, and the stronger and more connected I feel. We are not alone in this struggle.
When our first miscarriage came at 8 weeks, I was heartbroken. The next two were easier in a way, as I no longer believed I would have a baby – ever. At the onset of my second miscarriage I was travelling for work and can remember talking to my husband from the bathroom at the Bellagio. He urged me to come home, but I didn’t want to sacrifice my career because my body was failing me. Instead I did what any of us strong women would do – I nailed my presentation and then ate a lot of conference creme brulee.
After our third loss, we saw a RE and discovered that our balanced translocation diagnosis gave us a 70% chance of miscarriage. We moved forward with IVF but unfortunately I did not respond well to treatment. Two different fertility clinics and protocols, neither producing viable embryos for a transfer. My body was failing me again.
Our wallets and my crumpling mental state drove us to stop further rounds. I hugged my step-daughter and focused on the happiness she brought me. My husband and I started working on a business venture. There was sadness and shame, but also some relief – infertility is exhausting.
And then I got pregnant, the old-fashioned way. Due to our history of recurrent loss there were more blood tests. More transvaginal ultrasounds. More anxiety. When we hit 20 weeks without a miscarriage, and our OB had answered every question that I could google on the internet, we felt hope. And at 37 weeks, we had our Leo.
There isn’t a moral of this story – we didn’t “just relax” and get pregnant. I am mad at myself for thinking my body was failing. Fertility is complex. My body went on to carry a healthy baby, deliver him without meds, and feed him for a year. We are strong. Sometimes we just need help.
The more times I share our story, the more stories are shared with me, and the stronger and more connected I feel. We are not alone in this struggle.
