My husband Kurt and I met while in college. Of our group of friends, we were one of the first couples to get married. Trying to have a baby from the get-go was not on our radar and if anything, we said we wanted to travel the world before having children (let me quickly add, visiting beautiful islands was as far as we ever got!).
I come from a large family. My mom had five children. On my mother’s side there are 17 first cousins and 32 first cousins on my father’s side. Having children was always in “the plan,” but strangely, I had always carried the thought that becoming pregnant was not going to magically, or ever, happen for me. Maybe this stemmed from the fact that my menstrual cycle was never “normal.” It was not until I was 16 that I finally said something to a girlfriend and her response was, “uh Jenny, having a period for over 30 days is not normal…maybe you should go to the doctor.” So at the age of 16 I was put on birth control pills to regulate my cycle.
Early into our marriage, I stopped taking the pill. Not with the intent on trying to get pregnant, but if it happened then okay. My menstrual cycle returned to being abnormal, which included a period for weeks on end, or no period at all, and even some days where I was in pain and I would bleed extremely heavy. When I mentioned to my OB/GYN at the time that we had not used protection for some time the response was not to worry just yet, as I was “too young to worry”. It was around this time that many of our friends were not only getting married, but they began getting pregnant. I decided to switch to a new OB/GYN who decided to perform a D & C on me and started me on Clomid. She also had me track my morning temperature, which was always lower than average. This is when I learned that Clomid and I were not friends as it made me extremely moody, but I stuck with it even as the dosage increased to no avail. The unofficial diagnosis I was given was, “that part of my brain was not talking with that part of my body.” It was probably around this time that the years of hundreds of blood draws began. Thank goodness, I have “good veins” with all of the times I have been poked with a needle!
Around this time, one of my girlfriends was having trouble conceiving as well. She started to see an infertility doctor who diagnosed her with PCOS. After months of Metformin and Clomid, she became pregnant with her little girl. Awesome! This was my answer! I made my appointment with the same doctor and he diagnosed me with “skinny” PCOS. I did not have all of the typical symptoms of PCOS, but I had some. However, all or no symptoms, I did not care as I had an answer and by golly, I was going to finally get pregnant. After more months of high dosages of Clomid as well as taking Metformin, I finally became pregnant…well according to a very faint plus sign on the home pregnancy test. Nevertheless, a plus is a plus and not a minus! I called the doctor with my news and that afternoon I surprised my husband by handing him paint swatches of pink & blue. The next day I went into my doctor’s office for the official “pee in a cup” pregnancy test, the nurse wheeled in a small ultrasound machine, and I waited there patiently. Unfortunately, when the doctor came it was to tell me I had a chemical pregnancy. After further testing with him, and after introducing me to his PCOS specialist, it was then I was officially diagnosed as not having PCOS. I was back to square one.
My next turn was to a doctor that I had heard about through the infertility grapevine. He did not practice IVF, but rather minimally invasive infertility solutions. It was this doctor and staff who told me that the reason I may have had a chemical pregnancy was due to being on Clomid at too high of a dose for too long as Clomid may temporarily thin out the uterine wall, leaving little for the embryo to attach to. I swore at that point I never wanted to take Clomid again. After further testing it was discovered through a Hysterosalpingogram (HSG) that my left fallopian tube was blocked, which they tried to “blow out.” Despite the pain that “blowing out” created, it did not work. But that was okay, as one only needs one ovary & its ductwork to work and I had that. My husband’s sperm was tested (again) and he came back fine. They said maybe a little slow, but we knew he was not the issue. This was the beginning of injectable medications and transvaginal ultrasounds for me. Stronger drugs for ovulation induction and ultrasounds to not only watch the follicles grow, but a drug to release them…boom! This again was my answer! After a number of months of trying and more money spent, I had no baby, no gleam of hope, and I was getting tired. I decided to take a break from infertility treatments and filled in the void with work, a busy social life, running as therapy, and returning to school for my master’s degree. If I became pregnant on my own, or with the help of magic supplements, vitamins, or miracle foods that I discovered by my thousands of searches on the internet then wonderful! If not, then I would ignore the situation by filling my life with an avoidant or two…going back for my master’s, running, and happy hours.
After finally completing my master’s degree, I decided one day to look back into infertility treatment options. The same girlfriend who had children despite having PCOS, had a year earlier suffered a heart attack in her early 30’s due to hormonal imbalances. After recovering, she started to see a naturopathic doctor. This is when I went the holistic route. Not only did I think this again could be the answer to my “undiagnosed infertility,” I found it fun and interesting to see all of my different chemical & hormone imbalances within my body. The possible fix to my problem was to take the suggested vitamins, amino acids, and minerals! However, in a short amount of time this route became expensive and nonproducing…again.
Next, I returned to seeing an everyday OB/GYN as it had been a few years that I had an annual exam. This doctor came as another referral. She was good. She listened to the history of my menstrual cycle, the heavy bleeding I had, and the severe cramps. She was the first doctor to suggest the possibility of me having endometriosis and so she performed laparoscopy on me. This procedure confirmed her suspicion and while there, she was able to treat the existing endometriosis. I again left with a little bit of high hopes that it was the endometriosis that was causing the issue and that pregnancy would finally happen naturally! However, pregnancy did not happen.
After eight years of not being able to conceive, and now witnessing a few other friends having infertility issues as well, I was led to an infertility specialist. Walking into his office, I saw on his wall of successes many familiar faces of people, now families with kids, that I personally knew he had helped. I felt good! Once again, the same tests were ran. Once again, I was diagnosed with unexplained infertility. And once again, he found my blocked fallopian tube. However, this time he performed a fallopian tube recanalization and successfully opened my tube. Excitement and a positive outlook were back! Kurt was again tested, and again he was cleared. It was decided that I would first go through ovulation induction. After a couple of failed months Kurt and I decided we would do IUI. Once more I had my answer. I knew someone who IUI had worked for so it had to work for me! Unfortunately, after three tries the doctor said his recommendation was IVF. I-V-F?! IVF was always out there as a possible solution, but to me that was the last resort because if IVF failed then my dream to conceive would be over. I could not let that dream end and so I used my fear, my hope of pregnancy magically naturally happening like it does in “everyone else’s story,” and the ghastly expense of IVF to postpone trying.
Once again, I became absorbed in my work, social life, and workout lifestyle. Kurt and I were busy people…busy leading two separate lives & paths. Finally, at 36 the thought came across me that if I was going to try to conceive I had better get the ball rolling. We made an appointment to go back to the first IVF specialist to talk dollars. I also made an appointment with another “new” clinic in town who advertised a deal. However, despite the cost difference (which honestly was not that much, especially this far into the game) I went with my original IVF doctor. I liked his staff, I liked him, and I personally knew a few of his success story babies. We made our first installment to pay for IVF in December of 2011, cleaning out both of our FSA accounts. Our second installment came in January 2012, again cleaning out the newly funded FSA accounts, and money from our savings. I was added to the doc’s calendar. Birth control in February. Infertility meds in March. Retrieval in April. Everything was going well with me, the follicles, the doctor visits, everything except for our marriage, which I was oblivious to. It was the week of the retrieval when our marriage hit rock bottom. That was the most difficult week of my entire life. Never in a million years did I ever think would I be divorced, but my marriage breaking days before I was to give myself a shot to release the eggs I had growing inside of me? The only words I remember telling him through the tears and the screams were, “I don’t care where you are in our marriage or in parenting, but you will be at the doctor’s office on Friday to do your part.” A lot happened over the next few days, including counseling sessions, and me giving myself the final shot in my belly alone. On that Friday morning Kurt did go to the doctor’s office. Also on that Friday the tension lowered between us. I went in for my egg retrieval and Kurt went in for his part. We also vowed to work on our marriage.
On that Friday I had a total of 33 eggs retrieved. This large amount caused ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome within me and the doctor told me that chances were, if any embryos were created, that I would have to wait for my body to heal before the embryos could be transferred. This was another blow, but in hindsight, it was a gift. Over the next few days I would receive phone calls updating me on the status of my eggs & embryos. Every call lowered the count. It went from 33, to 28, to 25, to 18 to 12, to 8, to 5! I had five viable eggs that fertilized…but then I had the final phone call confirming the doctor would not transfer any eggs this month. My babies would have to be frozen at five days gestation and in that process, only three of them made it. Over that spring and summer, Kurt and I worked on our marriage and things between us were healthier. In August, we decided to get the processes of the embryo transfer started. Once again, we had to pull out the credit cards and once again, I had to condition my body, but this time to put these possible babies in. The evening before the transfer Kurt and I went and had dinner and a cocktail, belly-up, on the patio of Llywellen’s on Main Street. It was a beautiful Sunday and we prayed that the cocktail I had ordered, to try to calm my anxiety, would be the last one for a very long time. On Monday, September 17, 2012 I walked into our fertility clinic and had two embryos transferred into my 37 year old body. The next week and half was long. I believe I felt every bodily sensation that would make me think I was pregnant…and not pregnant. It was relief to go in for the first blood work, and then the second 48 hours later, in order to get my hCG numbers. I just needed to know where we stood. The first call came from my doctor himself. I could hear in his tone how overly pleased he was with the numbers. Although higher numbers cannot predict a multiple pregnancy, he sounded pretty assured that I had a multiple pregnancy. I made my appointment to go in for the ultrasound and called Kurt with the news and possibility of twins. What a relief and thrill I had going through my body. At our first appointment, it was confirmed through a transvaginal ultrasound that there were two itty-bitty heartbeats. A day and a feeling I would never forget. It was not until then Kurt was truly stunned with the thought that we were going to have twins!
My pregnancy was smooth sailing up until week 25. It was then that my blood pressure began to increase and I was diagnosed with preeclampsia. Due to this, I was referred to a high-risk pregnancy doctor. After a few weeks of visiting him, it was a Thursday afternoon and he recommended I be admitted to the hospital for bedrest. Bedrest? I had a nursery to finish and baby showers to attend! After two nights in the hospital, a shot to help increase the speed to which my babies’ lungs would develop, I was able to convince my doctor that I was able to go home and take it easy…I also had my very first baby shower that Saturday evening and I promised I would remain sitting the entire time. I made it all the way to my next doctor’s visit that next Thursday, when I was 29-30 weeks. It was at this point where he made the final decision that “taking it easy” at home & work was not working. He allowed me to go home, pack my bags, and return to the hospital as I was being admitted into the hospital until the babies were born. Two weeks later the doctors decided it was time as the preeclampsia was beginning to create havoc on my boys. At 32 weeks our sons Max & Sam were born at 3lbs and 10oz & 3lbs and 6oz. Overall healthy, just tiny and needing some help to breathe and eat. After five weeks in the NICU my little guys were released and we were finally able to bring them home!
Having the two embryos originally transferred left me with one embryo frozen. It was when the boys were about a year and a half I brought the idea up of transferring the final little guy. I believe Kurt’s initial reaction was that I was nuts, but he completely understood that we could not leave anyone behind. It was in January of 2015 I stopped breastfeeding the twins and in February, I started the medication to again prepare my body for another transfer. That May the transfer was completed and I again had to wait for the blood results. This call was again good, but weirdly a little bummed that I did not have the highly elevated levels before. This pregnancy was thankfully smooth sailing. In January of 2016 our third embryo, and our third boy was born. Auggie came rolling into this world at over 8lbs. I will have to admit that he came into the world with a head full of black hair, while the other two were blond, and with such a full face that when I initially looked over at him I thought for a split second…”oh no, they got the embryos mixed up!” Honestly, had they, “too bad – so sad” as this little guy was mine forever!
Life as we knew it changed forever on April 12, 2013. We knew having children would be fabulous, but I will openly admit I was dumb & naïve as it is not as simple & easy as the diaper & toy commercials show. However, despite the lack of sleep, the uncontrollable crying (not always a baby), no time to yourself, and the messy house I would never in a million years change where I am at, nor the journey that it took to get here. The journey was rough as we rode the roller coaster of emotions, and our pocketbooks were emptied, but we were somehow some of the lucky ones to have gotten to where we are.