Overcoming Infertility

We began our journey, standing in a sterile hallway of a local hospital. I had just undergone a procedure to investigate my reproductive organs for any possible clues as to why we had not been able to achieve a pregnancy. I had polycystic ovarian syndrome so we felt that this was the cause. However, we had tried oral medications, carefully timed/tested cycles, and still no luck. Month after month, we saw repeated failure.

Now, we were asking questions about other test results. The director of the reproductive department had the test results in hand. He was sharing them with us, in a hallway, and without warning my whole world came crashing down. What was he saying? Male Factor? Morphology? What did this mean? And, then I heard it, "Zero percent. You will not conceive naturally. Your only hope is Invitro-fertilization".

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. My mind was racing. I was thinking all kinds of things about my fear of multiple births, the costs associated with such procedures, and the fact that if I did not elect to embrace this option, I elected to never have a genetic child.

All around me, people were pregnant. That is all I saw, everywhere I went it seemed. Everyone else's happiness, everyone else's children, and every one else's celebrations. To add to my sadness, I myself had been adopted. I longed for that genetic connection with someone. I felt I needed it.

Not long after we attempted our first Invitro cycle and failed, we decided to take a break. I was emotionally spent. My best friend had just told me that she was pregnant, artificially inseminated, single. She had achieved what I had been unable to achieve. I was angry and sad but eventually came to terms with it all. And then, like a miracle, just one month later, I wasn't feeling well. Could it be? How? I took a pregnancy test and there it was; I was pregnant, naturally. Now, we would have our children together. Myself and my husband with ours and my best friend with hers.

However, one month later, I got up one morning and didn't "feel" pregnant. I went to the bathroom and suddenly, I knew; I had lost that pregnancy. Once again, I felt punched in the stomach. My world had collapsed around me. But, I continued quickly forward now. Perhaps this pregnancy was a wake-up call and I was not meant to "give up" and "take a break". Something was telling me to press forward. So, I did. I entered another cycle.

Just as I was nearing the end of my frozen embryo transfer, I received a most horrifying call. My best friend, at 27 weeks, had lost her baby in-utero. Her voice mail, her tears, her overwhelming grief, caused me to break down as well. My cycle ended with a negative pregnancy result. Now, I would watch my friend be forced to deliver her stillborn baby and then bury her 27 week old son. Infertility challenges threatened both of us.

Still, I stood unwaivered, determined to overcome this uncertain journey. I stood steadfast in my committment. I once again decided to undergo Invitro Fertilization. It would be my last cycle.

After 30 days of injecting fertility medication into my belly, and applying carefully timed medication, emotions running high, I had my eggs retrieved. Soon after, I developed something called ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. This causes a woman's ovaries to hyperstimulate or produce multiple eggs. Soon after the eggs are retrieved, the follicles that once contained the mature eggs, fill back up with fluid. Sometimes, this fluid escapes into a woman's abdominal cavity. It can cause pain, shortness of breath and other life threatening complications.

Due to this complication, we had to make a decision. Would we transfer the fertilized egg back into my uterus and risk pregnancy that could make the hyperstimulation worse or would we call off this cycle? We decided to go forward with the transfer of only one embryo.

During this transfer procedure, a mistake was made. The embryologist was supposed to perform something called "assisted hatching". This is a procedure in which a trained specialist helps the embryo with a stage of maturation called "hatching". Usually, to perform assisted hatching, an embryologist will make a small cut in the outer shell of the embryo prior to transfer. This was not done due to a communication breakdown between the fertility clinic and the lab. We were devastated.

However, our belief is that everything happens for a reason. And, as we were making plans to go forward with a frozen embryo transfer, other plans were in store for us. A positive pregnancy test.

Nine months later, our daughter was born. She is truly our miracle. I see myself in her. I have my genetic connection, the one I longed to have for so long. Better than that, I have my daughter. The one I laugh with, cry for, protect, love and nurture. The journey was long and hard but as I hold her hand in mine and smell the scent of her freshly washed hair, I think about the journey. Infertility does not define who we are, our children define who we are as people. God bless the miracles in life.