We always thought we had time to start a family. Between work commitments, travel, buying a house, and social gatherings, there was always something else on our plates. But then came that pivotal moment when we asked ourselves, “If not now, when?” After a few initial tests, everything seemed fine. However, as a healthcare professional, I was all too aware of the complexities of infertility, and my impatience drove me to pursue further testing after three unsuccessful attempts.
The results came back with some abnormalities—some quite concerning and others just on the edge—but nothing that seemed critical enough to prevent pregnancy. I struggled for a long time, rationalizing that we’d give ourselves a year. I even made a deal with myself: if it didn’t work out, I’d change jobs to reduce stress. In the meantime, we endured two unsuccessful inseminations (oh, that impatience).
A year passed, and I kept my word. I switched jobs, and during my first month in the new role, I had a delayed period that I barely noticed. A test on day 40 revealed a positive result! But happiness was fleeting; after just four hours, blood tests confirmed a miscarriage. My husband couldn’t understand my anguish, and I felt like I was facing the worst news imaginable at the doctor’s office. I grappled with guilt—was it my fault?
Many failed cycles later, I felt drained and isolated. Loneliness became my constant companion as friends announced pregnancies and family members asked when we’d have kids. It was around this time that Dr. Kowalski stepped in to support us. During one visit, I expressed my frustration about only one biochemical pregnancy in 17 cycles. He suggested more advanced immune and genetic tests, which I was willing to pursue despite the high costs.
Thanks to these advanced assessments, we identified issues we could address with medication. Thankfully, we were among those for whom IVF and the right medications made a difference. I vividly remember the first embryo transfer. We had a beautiful embryo, and I couldn’t help but think about the four frozen embryos, one of which was developing slower than the rest. I jokingly told my husband, “If we end up transferring the weakest one, it’ll probably be our child, and a boy at that, since boys are lazy!” Ironically, that slower embryo was the one that eventually took.
During the third transfer of that embryo, I found myself nervously refreshing the lab’s results while sipping coffee, unsure if I should even bother with the prescription for pregnancy-supporting drugs. Many would say it’s an emotional block, but I believe it was a combination of science and support that made it work.
These days, most people plan their pregnancies meticulously and have tests done. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t think ahead. Each patient dealing with infertility is filled with questions—Are the follicles healthy? Is the hormone level right? Will the eggs be collected successfully? Will they fertilize?
So, was it worth it? Absolutely! The journey was challenging, even with amazing support, but the joy of finally holding our child in our arms makes every moment of struggle worthwhile. It’s more than just a growing belly or first kicks; it’s about recognizing the small joys in life and cherishing what truly matters—our health and our family.
When I talk about IVF, I often say, “Some people have their appendix out, others take heart medications, and we sought help for infertility.” And now, I can proudly say that’s a chapter in our past.
If you’re curious about other supportive resources, check out this post about whole-food-based prenatal options, or visit this page for authoritative information on fertility supplements. For those interested in pregnancy and home insemination, the NICHD provides excellent resources.
In summary, our journey through infertility taught us resilience and appreciation for the little things that make life beautiful.