I’m going to get really raw in this update. More real than in any of my previous posts.
First and foremost, our first IVF attempt failed.
Secondly, Jason and I are devastated, feeling defeated, pissed, confused and lost.
Over the weekend, I started spotting. From what I had heard from others who had successful IVF procedures, bleeding wasn’t part of it.
I knew by Monday that our dreams of IVF working the first round had shattered. Tuesday, it was all confirmed when my blood pregnancy test came back negative.
Ironically, we were in Field and Stream looking at guns to protect our family when we received the call. I walked away knowing who the call was coming from, and as I heard the news I looked back at Jason and simply shook my head. He quickly wrapped up our conversation with the guy we had been speaking with and we quickly departed from the store. I barely made it to the car before the tears started streaming down my face.
Why the hell had it not worked? We were the ideal IVF patient.
- We had conceived naturally previously
- All of our tests were coming back great
- Everything looked great
- Our embryos were picture perfect
- The procedures were seamless
Why had the embryos decided NOT to attach?
This failure wasn’t on anyone but me. This failure was on me. MY body didn’t work this time.
Guys, do you have any idea how that makes me feel?
I’ll be honest, I cried for most of the day yesterday. We spent a lot of money on IVF.
- $10k for the procedure, tests, appointments
- $3300 for medications
You can do the math.
Keep in mind that most insurance companies do not cover infertility treatments, so these expenses were out of pocket.
Jason was pretty quiet yesterday. He was shocked. He told me that he was prepared for good news and that once we had found out for sure that we were pregnant, we would have headed to Babies R’Us to look at baby stuff. I took it one step further when I purchased a shirt for Braxton last week that read “Big Bro”. I think this crushed him as I handed him the shirt.
We sat on the couch in shock trying to comprehend the news. Neither of us had the right words to say to each other. There was no blame being thrown. All there was between us were hugs and silence.
A few things were going through my mind:
- How do we move past this?
- How do we accept this as our fate?
- Do we try it again?
- Can we afford it?
- What if it doesn’t work again?
- Are we being punished?
- Why us?
- Does he blame me, but refuses to admit it?
- What do we do now?
- How long will this hurt?
There is no real way to describe how I am feeling. I’m sure Jason is feeling just as depressed and lost as I. I wish I knew what to say, how to comfort him or “fix” this.
To the embryos that didn’t implant during our IVF transfer,
I wish I knew why things worked out the way that they did.
I’m trying to understand why you didn’t attach the way Jason and I had prayed and hoped you would. Why didn’t our IVF transfer work for us? Why didn’t you grow into a another miracle baby or two?
I don’t understand. Braxton won’t be able to say that he is going to be a big brother or wear that blue shirt I bought him when we could announce being pregnant again. He is still little, so he doesn’t understand what we went through to try and have you, but one day we will tell him.
I have such a hard time understanding why we have been plagued with infertility…again. I don’t understand why Jason and my body can’t just be “normal”. Why do our bodies resist giving us what we want so badly to have.
Why did you leave me..us..feeling so empty in so many places? My heart is broken, my womb empty and a part of my soul has been taken away from me..away from us.
How long will this hurt? How long will we hurt?
Will it ever get easier? Will we ever understand?
I won’t say that I’m not pissed or upset, but what I will say is that I am grateful for the little bit of hope you gave us.
Sure, the appointments, tests and shots sucked, but for a brief moment, the idea and the thought that we’d be parents again made us incredibly excited. We were so hopeful, we were ready, we had been anxiously awaiting great news for over a year and a half.
We received none.
You gave us purpose. Purpose to fight for what we want. Purpose to enlighten others on the lack of fertility insurance coverage. Purpose to share our story. Purpose to helps others. You have us so much damn purpose.
You made us aware of truly how much of a miracle Braxton is to us. You made us realize even more how precious life is and how fragile is can be. You showed us how to cherish every moment-even the bad ones.
For the short few days of “feeling” pregnant, I got to do things that only pregnant woman could do. I had to avoid drinking a ton of caffeine, I had to avoid excessive exercise, hot baths and more. And even though I was never technically pregnant, the idea of being pregnant gave me hope.
Although this isn’t what we wanted, we will forever be grateful for you.
Secondary infertility is a very real thing. It’s just as painful, and arguably more painful (in our opinion).
Although our IVF journey didn’t take us where we had hoped, we must not lose hope. We must not push blame. We must continue to pray.
This is what IVF is: weeks of shots, procedures, tests, blood draws…
We ask that all of us who have been following our infertility journey, continue to pray for us. Pray for all those who are also experiencing infertility.
I shared a video on my personal Facebook page yesterday afternoon. It’s called “Thy Will Be Done” by Hilary Scott, from Lady Antebellum. She wrote the song after experiencing a devastating miscarriage.
Here it is: