Our IVF Journey

A war often waged in silence, and yet worthy of being shared: this is the present chapter of our infertility story.

opening thoughts

I have written a few times previously about the complex puzzle of hope, pain, loss, and grief that is infertility. This is a deeply personal topic, and being vulnerable about it brings a sense of risk to an already tender experience. During our treatment, however, I remember searching each night for articles, blogs, and posts by women who had gone before me. I was desperate to see myself in their stories, to see that what worked for them would work for me too and that it would all turn out okay. What I know now is that I was always going to be okay, no matter the outcome - and if you are reading this and also wading through your own longing for children, I wish I could hold your hands in mine, look at you with eyes that understand the pain in yours, and whisper to you: you are going to be okay.

the beginning

In the Spring of 2021, Josh and I embarked on our first ever IVF treatment after 6 failed IUIs, too many medicated cycles to count, and one miscarriage. We were optimistic that maybe this was (finally) our time. Financially, IVF had never been in the picture for us due to lack of insurance coverage, but a family member who had their own struggles with building their family gifted us with the resources to give it a shot (pun intended). We will be forever grateful.

fyi

A rudimentary shoot-through of IVF: injectable and oral medications are used over a 12-14 day period to mature ovarian eggs. Around that time, an Egg Retrieval procedure extracts the mature eggs and they are fertilized in a lab setting and tracked for growth over 5 days. During this time, the uterus is then prepared with additional medication, and then once the fertilized egg reaches the optimum development into an embryo (around day 5), it is either re-introduced into the uterus in a Transfer procedure or frozen for the future.

01
PREP AND PLANNING

Medication delivery was an overwhelming moment – but was quickly overcome with an organization container and resource binder with our paperwork. During this time, we worked directly with our doctor and IVF nurses at our clinic to outline our general plan and get ready to start medication.

02
STIMS

“Stimulation Phase” is around 10-12 days and, for me, consisted of subcutaneous (little needles) injections in the morning and evening. During this phase, you take medication to both grow the eggs as well as prevent yourself from ovulating. Josh administered the initial jab and I would take care of pushing the medicine in. We were Team Raines all the way.

03
BLOOD DRAWS + ULTRASOUNDS

During stims, I typically saw our doctor every other day for a blood draw to check my hormone levels (we want that Estrogen increasing!) and an ultrasound to measure the size of the eggs. Because of COVID-19, I had to go into all my appointments alone – Josh would drive me to the doctor and I would record the appointments so we could play them back on the drive home.

04
EGG RETRIEVAL

Once the eggs are at the prime growth phase, they put me under and extracted the eggs from my ovaries. At this point, women are at risk for hyperstimulation, where the follicles where the eggs were extracted from fill with fluid and make you very sick. I’m so thankful that I was not hyperstimulated and was only down for about a day post-op. We retrieved 16 eggs, which statistically was great!

05
TRANSFER PREP

Because I was not overstimulated, we immediately began progesterone injections every evening post-retrieval to prep my uterus for the hopeful transfer of a developed embryo. These are intramuscular injections, and I was thankfully able to get my hands on some numbing patches. During this time we were waiting over a 5-day period for the fertilized eggs to mature.

06
TRANSFER DAY

After drinking my weight in water (only kind of a joke), it was transfer day, where they placed one developed embryo into my uterus.
6/16 eggs were mature (statistically we wanted 10/16). 4/6 were fertilized and just 1 became a mature embryo. Ideally, during an IVF cycle, you get 3-5 embryos for more chances at a successful transfer. We were a bit crushed over this outcome but tried to focus on being grateful for that one embryo.

07
YOU’RE PREGNANT!

Nine days after transfer, we got the call: our blood test said we were pregnant. When the nurse called to tell me, she shared that we could be cautiously optimistic… my numbers were on the low side, so there was a risk of miscarriage, but we were, in fact, pregnant.
I ran to tell Josh our news, and then ran to take a home pregnancy test to see for myself. I’ll always remember how loud my heart pounded in my ears as I watched PREGNANT blink onto the screen.

08
TELLING OUR TRIBE

When we began IVF, we knew there were specific people in our life that we needed for the journey: our parents, my siblings, and two friends also going through IVF. I remember face-timing my parents and crying with them as I told them *Yes, I’m pregnant*. It was the same with my younger sister, who was pregnant with her baby girl at the time. We were transparent about the low numbers and asked them to keep praying. All that mattered was that for that day, we were pregnant. Hallelujah.

09
SAYING GOODBYE

We were pregnant and praying for about a week when we got the call: *your numbers are dropping… you’re having a miscarriage.*
I slowly sat my phone down and blinked at Josh as we both watched the other fall apart. Transparently, I looked at Josh and choked through tears, *Right now, I want to die.* He looked back at me and replied, *Me too.*
The feeling of falling from hopes that high snatched the breath from our lungs. We crashed into the pain in our bodies and hearts and grief rolled into our lives like a sudden summer storm.

10
FINDING ACCEPTANCE

We wrestled with a pregnancy that barely touched our fingers before it slipped through as if it was never there. We grappled with the finality of it all – that our resources were dry and that lone embryo was our single shot.
We took time off work and decided to do things that we knew would help us remember what peace and joy felt like. We bought flowers for our front porch. We hugged our nephew and grilled dinner on the deck. And then we went back to work and poured ourselves into projects while we quietly grieved through the summer.

TODAY

It wasn’t okay then, and it isn’t okay now, that we lost that baby. I have really good weeks and I have really bad days. I wrestle with our reality consistently, this revolving sense of contentment and longing giving me the worst kind of motion sickness. Believing is hard when options are few.

I was afraid I would fall apart – and truthfully for the first few months after our loss, I tentatively watched myself to see if I was just faking it until I made it. Grief is a greedy creature – it will always take what it is owed. But I came to realize that pouring myself into my family and my work wasn’t me avoiding my reality – it was me healing my heart. Deciding to wrap my arms all the way around the present wasn’t saying it was a replacement for what we long for or a consolation prize of any kind, but that it is just as worthy of being loved and treasured, too.

I don’t have a beautiful, whole note to end our song on right now – we are still longing, hoping, and praying for God to build our family and fill our home. But what this part of our path has taught me is that some days there won’t be a song in your heart. Sing anyway.

•

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul.