Category: infertility

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated the blog and there’s been a lot a change since my last post. We cancelled our IUI cycle halfway through (my follicles weren’t responding to the injections) and dove headfirst into IVF. Without getting into too much detail, I found IVF incredibly draining and we ultimately decided we’d give ourselves two rounds. Miraculously after two mostly unsuccessful rounds, I became pregnant with our second and last embryo. As I write this post, I’m almost 39 weeks pregnant and on maternity leave. While I haven’t been regularly updating the blog, I have been journaling as a means of processing all the emotions that come with pregnancy after infertility. I wanted to share an excerpt from one of my journal entries as maybe some of you can relate:

One thing this pregnancy has given me is the ability to trust my body again.

Learning about and living with a genetic disorder, I became disillusioned with my body from a young age. It’s a complicated feeling not trusting your body to carry out the biological tasks it’s supposed to without assistance. I wore a deep rooted shame throughout my teenage and adult years; knowing I would never have children without medical intervention. In some ways, I believed my inability to conceive made me less of woman. Of course, the rational side of my brain knows this isn’t true, but growing up, it was incredibly difficult to feel ‘normal’ knowing my biological limitations. I eventually came to terms with my condition and got to a place where I could celebrate everything my body did for me. I was a competitive dancer and throwing myself into dance helped me appreciate my body and the ways I was different.

Once I became pregnant, despite the immense joy and surprise I felt, I feared whether my body would be able to carry out this task. The anxieties I experienced during the first trimester often felt unbearable. Could I carry this baby to term? Would it abandon me during this most critical period? I was riddled with constant anxiety up until I started feeling regular kicks and movement. Given my history, I told my family about my pregnancy very early on, but with the caveat that I might miscarry or something would turn up on our NIPT. I broke down when our IVF clinic told me they couldn’t do genetic testing on our embryos and I didn’t purchase anything for the baby until almost my third trimester when I finally felt like I could relax a bit.

Despite these psychological challenges, pregnancy has been deeply healing for me. I went into IVF hopeful, but without the expectation it would work or that we’d end up with a baby. I mentally prepared myself for every scan and every appointment, knowing nothing was guaranteed except the inconceivably high price tag for every round of medication and treatment. I approached both cycles with the same caution I’d approached previous medical challenges. It was empowering knowing I could live a full life with or without children. I have so much respect for anyone who chooses, or who has the choice made for them, to live a childfree life. And those who become adoptive or foster parents.

I have never cried as much as I did when I got the first call from my IVF clinic letting us know our second transfer was successful. Not to sound dramatic, but it felt like decades of trauma leaving my body. It was one of the best days of my life. I felt an immense sense of gratitude towards my body; for all it had been through and for everything we were about to experience. While we know there will be future challenges, I was able to breathe a little easier. Becoming pregnant was something I never fully believed would be possible for me.

While I haven’t loved every day of this pregnancy, I’m forever in awe of what my body has achieved. With each passing week, as my bump has grown bigger and my baby’s kicks have become stronger, I’ve never felt more proud of my body.

It’s been almost two years since I shared a fertility update. Truthfully, I worry about “oversharing” because I am generally a pretty private person, but I made a promise to be more intentional about what I post on social media. We all need community and connection, regardless of what we’re going through. I also believe that keeping (what we perceive as) our flaws private, we’re only contributing to a narrative of stigma and shame.

If you missed my original post, I wrote about how our decision whether or not to have a baby (I avoid saying, “start a family” because we are already a family, Nick and I…) was heavily influenced by infertility. This post was one of my most read posts and I received hundreds of messages and DMs from women (and men) who were experiencing infertility and felt like they had nobody to turn to. It’s not something many of us feel comfortable talking about, but since penning that post, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and the complexity of my situation feels less overwhelming.

In an attempt to better understand my body and options, I made another appointment with a specialist. These appointments helped shed light on my medical history and empowered us to consider our options. We ultimately decided to start on fertility medication. Unlike the medication I was taking in my early twenties (which was a form of birth control) this was specifically designed to improve the likelihood of getting pregnant. We’ve recently decided to take it one step further and begin IUI, a (slightly) more affordable fertility treatment than IVF.

With everything going on in the world, I do feel guilty spending so much time and resources trying to get pregnant. The logical side of my brain can’t even imagine raising a child in the current climate, but I owe it to younger me to explore my options. I’ve always gravitated towards children; initially enrolling to study child education and then speech language pathology at university. I envisioned myself working with children some capacity and temporarily worked at a daycare when I first moved to New Zealand.

Whether you have decided against having children, are currently undergoing fertility treatments (it takes such an emotional, physical and financial toll…) or you are still deciding, know there is no wrong decision. Whether Nick and I end up with a baby or we remain childfree, I know we’ll be more than okay and will continue to live fulfilling, wonderful lives. We’re fortunate to live in a world full of options with incredible medical advancements and opportunities; understanding the nuances of my situation has been powerful. 

If you or someone you love is experiencing infertility or pregnancy loss, my heart goes out to you. My DMs are always open and I cherish every connection I’ve made since opening up. Internet culture continues to perpetuate toxic highlight reels. It’s a cycle that encourages us to only post our wins, leaving many of us feeling more alone than ever. I hope that, in some small way, reading this post has made you feel less alone.

Disclaimer: We all know I’m not a doctor and I can only speak to my personal experience.