Arden’s Fertility Journey
Any time I discuss my fertility journey, I feel like it’s necessary to mention that I didn’t grow up imagining what it would be like to be a mom. While I had a childhood that was comfortable and physically safe, a roof over my head, and people around me, I never felt like it was something I would want someone else to have. The most maternal person in my life was my grandma who sadly died after a battle with pancreatic cancer when I was 13 years old. I played with Barbie dolls and made families but only because it felt like something you were supposed to do.
Barbie was to marry Ken and together they would have two children; one boy and a girl. I assumed that everyone felt that way (of course unless you realized then that your Barbie had another Barbie or two kens, either way – you get my drift). Of course, I’ve reflected on this in therapy and realized that my parents were married and immediately stopped preventing pregnancy and had a boy and a girl. My mom was 24 when she gave birth to me and 26 when she gave birth to my younger brother. From a young age, that put a pressure on me to get married and have kids on a similar timeline. Looking back, I think we can all agree that it’s not exactly realistic.
I met my husband, Kerry, when I was 19 years old and he was 22 years old at the time. I always felt like an older version of myself and never felt like my age matched who I was because I was independent, driven, and always in a different stage of life than people my age. We quickly moved in together which led us to feel like we were on a timeline. At this time, there didn’t seem to be a lot of voices around us or validation that we could go at our own pace. We loved each other so we knew that the next step would be something with more commitment than a relationship. We got married three years later and then started trying to conceive two years into being married.
“Barbie was to marry Ken and together they would have two children; one boy and a girl”
When we started actively trying to conceive and we no longer prevented pregnancy, I assumed that it would happen in the first month of trying. I remember buying a pregnancy test (for the first time ever) and peeing on the stick seven days after we had sex. I was clueless. Absolutely clueless. I followed a cycle tracking app that told me when I was most fertile and didn’t really question it because… I didn’t know that I needed to. My menstrual cycles were regular and the only concern I had was that my periods were pretty heavy and painful. The possibility of having Endometriosis had come up many times before however, I didn’t know anything about it nor did I understand that surgery was required for an actual diagnosis or treatment. Let’s just say – I was very naive.
By the time I saw my first positive pregnancy test, we had been trying to conceive for a year and a half and had just started fertility testing with a Reproductive Endocrinologist (fertility specialist). I remember that it was a total shock that I was pregnant naturally because we had just learned that I wasn’t actually ovulating in most of my menstrual cycles, which would explain why we hadn’t had a pregnancy occur until then. Of course, I felt all of the naivety flow back into my body because I genuinely didn’t think that we would experience infertility and pregnancy loss. The luck of that happening mixed with still being under the impression that good things happened to good people, left me not expecting anything bad to happen.
Our first miscarriage happened over the course of three weeks and the timeline is something that haunts me to this day, almost six years later. Our first ultrasound, which occurred when I was 7 weeks pregnant, showed that we were either 10 days behind in growth or experiencing a blighted ovum or a missed miscarriage. My husband and I were devastated and immediately lost all hope that things were going to be okay and that we would meet this baby. Our fertility doctor mentioned the words “miscarriage” but also told us that he wasn’t confident in that just yet, so he wanted us to come back in one week so we could compare the growth. During that week of pregnancy limbo as I call it, I felt like I rotted away. I gave up hope, I didn’t take my prenatals, I ate sushi and ordered deli subs, and drank a lot of coffee. The way I coped with that week was punishing my body for betraying me.
A week after the first ultrasound, we went back with the expectation that we were going to confirm a miscarriage. I hadn’t started spotting, no one even really told me what could happen during that time period and looking back – I was lucky that didn’t happen to me. During the second ultrasound, when it had been 8 weeks since my last menstrual period, the doctor seemed conflicted on the state of my pregnancy because the gestational sac had grown and it appeared that the yolk sac had too but still, there was no flicker and the growth was very very minimal. Again, we were told to come back in one week.
“Our first miscarriage happened over the course of three weeks and the timeline is something that haunts me to this day,”
I’ll never forget those weeks of pregnancy limbo because I felt confused, conflicted, and unsure of my future. The anticipation of possibly experiencing a miscarriage sent me into a panic on a daily basis. I didn’t know what to expect, what questions to ask, or really anything at that point. Not to mention, I felt like a walking, living coffin for that baby. I saw them as a baby even though their physical features didn’t get the chance to develop. By the third ultrasound, when it had been 10 weeks since my last menstrual period, I had started spotting and I knew that this would be the last ultrasound. Part of me felt relieved that this would be over soon and the other part of me felt incredibly sad and lost. The doctor confirmed that this time there was no growth and that the spotting was likely the start of the physical miscarriage. He gave me the dreaded options and we chose an in-office D&C (maybe I’ll discuss this in more depth at another time) but scheduled it for two days later because the next day was our wedding anniversary.
As if our luck couldn’t get any worse, the miscarriage started overnight, at-home, while I was sleeping. It was the most traumatic six hours of my life and something that I’ll never forget a moment of. It’s what’s driven me to be so passionate about miscarriage education and care because I really had neither of those things when it came time to physically miscarry.
Recovering from that loss felt quick, physically, and emotionally, I found comfort in the fact that I did get pregnant (which now I laugh at because it’s no longer a comfort to me). So we tried to conceive on our own for three months and then went into the protocol that our doctor laid out for us to help ensure that I was ovulating and my hormones were balanced during my cycle.
“I never expected expanding our family to be this hard.”
The very first cycle of medications and timed intercourse worked for us and we were pregnant, again. I felt like the most fertile-infertile person and it was conflicting in every way. My husband and I felt mainly fear as we saw a positive pregnancy test and then heard the beta numbers for this pregnancy. They weren’t as high as our last pregnancy and I was worried that the numbers were low but I also knew that the numbers couldn’t predict the outcome of that pregnancy. I was a zombie for the two weeks before my first ultrasound and walking into that appointment was so incredibly triggering because it was the same exam room and I had a bad feeling about this pregnancy. The hard part of recurrent loss is that you don’t know if it’s your intuition or fear telling you that something is wrong and you don’t know if that inner voice could possibly be correct.
I’ll save you the details because it’s awfully similar to my first pregnancy but the first ultrasound showed that the pregnancy was 10 days behind, again. I was told to come back in one week to confirm and again, I was a zombie for that week. When we went back the following week and it was confirmed, I opted for Cytotec without even really thinking about it and just left the office as quickly as possible. I was numb to this pain and I just wanted to get the process over with because it felt like I was still in the middle of my first miscarriage while now expecting my second one.
Personally, my Cytotec experience was a really negative one and again, it was such a traumatic three days (yes, days) that I wish I could forget those details. I did discuss this on my podcast and will create a separate blog post for the sake of the length of this one. That pregnancy officially ended with a D&C and a trip to the emergency room and left me feeling so broken. I actually felt all of the hope of having a living child leave my body because I never expected expanding our family to be this hard. (Podcast episode linked below!)
MISCARRIAGE STORIES EPISODE #1: ARDEN’S CYTOTEC EXPERIENCE
From the moment I saw “habitual aborter” on my medical document leaving the hospital after the second miscarriage, I was filled with a lot of new emotions that I hadn’t felt following my first loss.
Rage.
Confusion.
Shame.
Curiosity.
I immediately jumped into action and researched books, blood tests, and what my options were for fertility testing or treatment after two miscarriages. (side note: it’s important to point out that in the USA, fertility testing is dependent on insurance coverage and most insurance companies follow the ASRM’s guidelines on recurrent pregnancy loss which is two miscarriages — including chemical, ectopic, and molar pregnancies. Cash-paying patients do not have to worry about this barrier.)
We did the recommend “Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Panel” and like over 50% of patients, our results were completely normal which of course, is good news but I felt discouraged when it came to trying to conceive again without a diagnosis or reason for two losses that were identical to each other. Our fertility doctor basically said that we could try IVF, do another round of the ovulation induction and timed intercourse, or try on our own and just add progesterone and hope that helps if I was looking for a more natural conception.
“Rage. Confusion. Shame. Curiosity.”
So, what changed?
I’m open about the fact that we have two living children after our two miscarriages and infertility therefore, a lot of people want to know what we did different or what the determining factor was that we went from not getting pregnant, to having back-to-back miscarriages, to two full-term pregnancies with no complications. And I know that when we read stories of loss, we often wonder what we can do that might make a difference but here’s the thing — each human, body, uterus, ovary, pregnancy, embryo, etc are all different and what works for one person won’t work for everyone. Sometimes there are protocols that bring more success than not and that’s something to cling to but it doesn’t always give us a diagnosis or a reason for what’s happened to us.
What I will tell you is that we changed very little and focused on improving my egg quality since that was a concern due to my lack of natural ovulation. I personally suspect that played a huge role. Sometimes I personally feel like I’m a “fertile”-infertile woman and that’s conflicting within. itself.
If you’re struggling with recurrent pregnancy loss and seeking support, we are here for you! We offer one-on-one coaching/counseling style support where we can discuss medical options, advocating for yourself, and processing your pregnancy loss experience.