Hope In The Waiting

After doing extensive research on women’s health, I began to fear that something wasn’t right. Deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. That quiet, tired inner voice kept whispering, “Hey, you need to do something.”

I started researching fertility clinics. During that time, I heard about several clinics through coworkers and friends. One coworker, who I’ll keep anonymous out of respect for her privacy and story, had struggled with conceiving herself. I don’t remember who reached out first, but she shared her journey with me and told me about the fertility clinic that helped her fulfill her dream of becoming a mother.

I spoke with Ryan about reaching out to that same clinic. At first, he was understandably apprehensive. No one wants to feel like they might be “the problem” or that something could be wrong. But after I shared my concerns, along with data and statistics about conception timelines, he gave me the green light to move forward.

We visited a fertility clinic in Knoxville, Tennessee (one of many in the area). To keep a long story short, Ryan and I underwent an extensive series of tests to see if anything unusual was going on. Everything came back great for Ryan. Woohoo. ♥

For me, everything looked good as well… except my progesterone levels. At that point, progesterone became the primary focus and was believed to be the root cause of our difficulty conceiving. Yay me! I was the problem.

After a few months with no success, I became overwhelmed with frustration, anger, and sadness. All at once. I was miserable to be around. What was supposed to be a joyful season of starting a family felt painfully heavy instead. Eventually, I realized I had a choice to make: I could either move forward and continue trying, or I could stop altogether.

I weighed the pros and cons, and the pros outweighed the cons exponentially. So I kept going, even on days when smiling felt nearly impossible.

When progesterone alone wasn’t working, my treatment plan changed to a combination of progesterone, Clomid, and a trigger shot.

Clomid works by essentially tricking your brain into thinking estrogen levels are low. As a result, your brain sends stronger signals to your ovaries to grow and release an egg. Pretty fascinating, right?

The trigger shot made of hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin… try saying that five times fast), helps prompt ovulation. Because hCG closely mimics luteinizing hormone (LH), it signals the ovaries to release a follicle (egg). If your body isn’t producing enough LH on its own, the trigger shot can make all the difference.

I was on this treatment combination for about three cycles before Ryan and I finally became pregnant! ♥

Sadly, our first pregnancy was not full term.

At our first ultrasound, everything looked perfect. The heartbeat was strong and fast. Ryan and I held hands, staring at the screen, overwhelmed with excitement and joy. Feelings that words can’t fully capture. Time froze.

At the second ultrasound, everything changed.

I walked into the appointment feeling nauseous, experiencing all the expected pregnancy symptoms. As the ultrasound began, I noticed the technician became very quiet. I tried to brush it off, telling myself it was just my anxiety creeping in.

I reached for my phone to take pictures of our baby on the screen, when I heard the words, “Don’t take pictures yet.”
In that moment, I knew something wasn’t right.

I stared at the monitor. Our baby was there, but there was no movement. No heartbeat. After what felt like an eternity, I was told there was no longer a heartbeat.

The world stopped. Time froze. I became physically sick.

I was given options: to allow my body to miscarry naturally or to have a D&C. After recommendations from the gynecologist and nurses (and given that my body was already struggling to process the loss), I chose to have the D&C. In simple terms, it removes tissue from the uterus when the body is unable to do so on its own.

Did it take away the pain? No.
Did it make moving forward easier? No.

But I do know that I made the best decision I could for: my body, my baby, and my family, during an unimaginably difficult time.

It has been over a year since that day that once felt impossible to survive. And while the pain doesn’t disappear, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Even the most devastating storms can create the most beautiful rainbows. ♥

I share my journey to remind you that you are not alone. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. Feel everything your body asks you to feel, but please don’t give up.