Jenna

25 Apr Jenna

 

 
I am 1 in 8.

As many young girls do, I started my period in the 5th grade. I was 11 years old.

As the years passed, my periods became worse and worse. I missed school monthly
due to extreme cramps and bleeding. There wasn’t enough Midol or Ibuprofen in the
world to help me. I started passing out due to the pain, and eventually became anemic
due to the bleeding. At a very young age I had my first female exam. I can still
remember today how uncomfortable that was for being only 12 years old. I was then
referred to a gynecologist. At 13 years old, I was placed on birth control to regulate my
cycles and help with the extreme cramping and bleeding.
At 14, I was still having issues, so I was scheduled for my first laparoscopy, or
exploratory surgery, to check my reproductive system from the inside.

Endometriosis was the diagnosis, just as the doctor had assumed. With this came
years of pain and numerous surgeries.
Here’s a quick Mayo Clinic version of what endometriosis is:

Endometriosis is a painful disease in which tissue that normally lines the inside of your
uterus grows outside of the uterus. It most commonly involves your ovaries, fallopian
tubes, and the tissue lining your pelvis but can also grow on any other area of the body.
With endometriosis, displaced endometrial tissue continues to act as it normally would
if it were growing inside the uterus— it thickens, breaks down, and bleeds with each
menstrual cycle. Because this displaced tissue has no way to exit your body, it
becomes trapped. Surrounding tissue becomes irritated, eventually developing scar
tissue and adhesions, or abnormal bands of fibrous tissue that can cause pelvic tissues
and organs to stick to each other. Symptoms of endometriosis include painful periods,
excessive bleeding, pain during sex, pain with urination and/or bowel movements,
fatigue, extreme bloating, and infertility.

Today, many women receive a ‘diagnosis’ of endometriosis by presenting the
symptoms to their doctor. However, the only definitive way to have a concrete
diagnosis of this evil disease is to have the exploratory laparoscopy. There is also no
CURE for endometriosis.
Stunting the growth of endometriosis can be accomplished by stopping a woman’s
normal menstrual cycle all together with medication.
I was put through medically-induced menopause at the age of 15, complete with hot
flashes, mood swings, and all of the other symptoms that go along with it. Lupron (the
medication they used to stop my periods) was the devil. As if a 15-year-old doesn’t
have enough going on, I had the symptoms of menopause to deal with as well. A few
months went by and I {thankfully} had a reaction to the medication, so we decided to
try something different. I was placed on continuous birth control to stop my periods.

Every three years on the dot I needed another surgery. The pain would worsen, even
though I wasn’t having a period at all. Adhesions had decided to unpack and live in my
abdomen. My bowels attached to my abdominal wall. My uterus attached to my
bladder. My ovaries attached to my bowels. With each surgery they would detach
them, only to make more scar tissue.

I’m 32 now, and I’ve had a total of 6 laparoscopies to excise endometriosis and detach
my organs. The amount of scar tissue that has been left over causes abdomen pain
daily, but after dealing with it for over 20 years, it’s become a normal part of my life.
You never know when you might have a sharp, double-you-over pain out of no where,
but that is normal. The pain I’ve been through and continue to experience has NO
comparison to the pain and struggle I now face.

The main complication of endometriosis is impaired fertility. Approximately one-third to
one-half of women with endometriosis have difficulty getting pregnant.
-I.n.f.e.r.t.i.I.i.t.y-

It might seem like such a small, meaningless word to most people. But to those of us
who have opened the door to the world of trying to conceive, only to receive negative
pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test, those eleven letters can literally tear your
entire world apart.

I remember specifically when I was almost 16, my gynecologist told me, “Keep in mind
for the future, the longer you wait to try to start getting pregnant, the harder it can be to
have children.” Yes, that seems extreme, especially at the time. But he was being
honest about what my future could entail.
I stayed on continuous birth control for nearly 10 years. I didn’t have a period. I didn’t
have cramps. I didn’t have to deal with the monthly cycle that can suck the life out of
you. It was great!

Or so it seemed at the time. I’m making up for those ‘great months’ ten times over
now.

I met my husband when I was almost 26. Before long we were engaged and planning a
wedding for the following year. He had a daughter from a previous relationship who
wasn’t quite 2 when we met. No problems there; I’d dated guys with kids before, and
she was the light of his life. It showed me just how amazing of a father he could be to
our kids as well! We made a plan. Get married, then wait a few months before we
started trying to get pregnant. 3 months passed and we decided it was time to
discontinue the birth control that was keeping my endometriosis at bay. It wasn’t an
easy decision, but that was the only choice I had if I wanted to have children of my
own. Besides, the longer we waited, the harder it might be, right?
I wasn’t getting too excited right away, because I knew the ins and outs of how long it
might take for your cycles to regulate after being on birth control normally, let alone
continuously, for so long. Unfortunately, with each period I had, my endo symptoms
got worse and worse.

It was all okay, I told myself, because before too long, I would be pregnant and we
wouldn’t have to worry about it!

I went to my primary care doc for my yearly checkup after we had been trying for
approximately 7 months. After her exam, she had a weird look on her face and told me
she thought it was best for me to go see an actual gynecologist.

Oh, great.

Here we go.

She saw something abnormal.

In the past, I’d had an abnormal pap smear that resulted in 2 separate cervical biopsies
just months apart before getting an all clear.

My reproductive counterparts are just not a fan of my body, people, I swear.

She referred most of her OB/GYN patients to a specific doctor she was close with. He
practiced NaPro Technology.

The world of NaPro Technology (otherwise known as natural family planning) was new
to me, but I loved and trusted my primary care doc, so if that’s where she wanted me
to go, that’s where I’d go!
We talked about my extensive history and the issues I was currently having. No
success getting pregnant. Worsening pain. Guess what… It had been over 3 years
since my last surgery. I bet you can guess what his first suggestion was! Yep.
Laparoscopy #5. Detach the organs. Zap the endo. Clean everything up.

I was for sure getting pregnant now!

If you haven’t heard of NaPro Technology, look it up, because I’m not even about to get
into all the details of what it involves! Basically, you chart your bodies symptoms and
cervical mucus on an everyday basis, which helps you figure out when you are
ovulating, telling you the best time to hit the sheets. Simple, right?

It has worked for many people, but what it did for me was nearly throw me over the
edge. Month after month we were told, “Just keep charting so we can get it as
accurate as can be!”
More negative pregnancy tests.
{TMI here..but this is real.}
Imagine this. You chart your mucus EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. you go to the bathroom.
Everyday. All day. And if you happen to forget accidentally (so easy to do) or you aren’t
sure exactly which color or shade it resembled the most, or the thickness or level of
stretchiness you’re seeing….sorry, your chart isn’t correct. Try again next month!

You can probably see how frustrating it can become. We added in more supplements,
and after numerous months passed with no pregnancy, they put me on Clomid.

Now, Lupron was the devil, but Clomid is the devil’s father. Talk about an absolute
hormonal rollercoaster. Mood swings galore. Laughing one minute, crying the next. Not
to mention it made every period I had HORRIBLE. There were days my husband tried
to take me to the ER because I couldn’t stand up due to the pain. Still only negative
pregnancy tests. One after another. “Keep charting,” we were told, and, “Let’s try
Femara.” Yay! No more Clomid, but NOW I get to start taking IM injections! This is
getting serious!
I remember the day I had to take my first Femara injection. It can only be given IM
(intramuscularly) in your hip/butt or in the thigh. The thought of giving myself an
injection in my thigh with a NOT-so-small needle is just a no go for me. So hip it was! I
could do this myself, heck I’ve been poked and prodded by needles for years!

Draw it up, stab it in!

1…2…3…Go!…..I got it halfway in, freaked out, and pulled it back out. (It’s nearly
impossible to twist that way, btw.)

Shit. What am I going to do NOW?! I’m home alone. Hubs won’t be home from work
for hours, and I’m suppose to take it in a certain timeframe. Frantically texting any and
all nurses I knew that lived close by, I luckily got ahold of one, and she happened to be
working at one of the local bars that day. Nothing like getting your fist IM fertility
injection at the bar uptown!

‘All these appointments, and charting, and medications, and now INJECTIONS?! It’s
definitely happening.’ It’s nearly impossible to not think this way.
Negative.

And another negative.

And another.

With every negative came that horrendous period. Can’t stand up, bleeding profusely,
type periods.

Something was up.

You guessed it. Why not do laparoscopy #6?! This time only a YEAR after the last one.
Weird, but the doctor knows what he’s doing, right?!
Okay. This is it. This is what we need to do to finally get our baby!

Surgery #6, minor speed bump, ER visit after not able to pee, then on to surgery
follow-up to hear what the plan is next.

—Keep doing rounds of charting and Femara and/or Clomid.

Wait, what?!

That hasn’t worked thus far, there has to be something more we can try!

That’s when we heard the words.

“Keep in mind, God just doesn’t will some women to become mothers.”

This was the day I realized I would be looking for a new fertility specialist.

There were so many other options out there than to continue the same exact treatment,
over and over with no plan to change anything. I was already to the edge, and that just
pushed me over. We’d wasted nearly 2 years, thousands of dollars on surgeries, and
my mental sanity for someone to tell me it wasn’t going to happen because HE didn’t
want to recommend any changes in treatment.

The search was on for an actual Reproductive Endocrinologist (fertility specialist).

We made a consultation at a new fertility clinic. I worked 12 hours the night before our
appointment, and after 4 hours of sleep off we went.

After reviewing my history, the specialist gave us one option.

IVF. (In-vitro fertilization)
Nothing else was going to work. This would be the ONLY way I could get pregnant. My
extensive history with endometriosis, adhesions, scar tissue, surgeries, and the fact
that my fallopian tubes had been blocked and unblocked TWICE already with no luck,
meant that IUI wasn’t going to be an option for us.

I had a weird gut feeling about everything.

“We can start right away on your next cycle. We will need $30,000 upfront before
starting any testing or medication. Let’s go talk to the financial advisor.”
Now, a mess is an understatement. I was the hottest mess I’d ever been about this
entire trying-to-get-pregnant thing.

First I’m told I might never be a mother, then I find out I might have to sell a kidney on
the black market to be able to become one?!

Doing IVF also wasn’t a guarantee. The percentage of a successful, full-term
pregnancy occurring in someone my age (35 and younger) is 41-43% with IVF.

“We’ll give you so many cycles and tries, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll give you some of
your money back.”
What is this? A betting game? I’d rather play blackjack!
You can imagine the tears that started pouring out of these already exhausted eyes.

So I give you 30K, and I get pregnant right away. Or I give you 30K, and I never get
pregnant, and I get less than half of the money back. Was it worth it? Even if we
COULD find the money?

Before I go on…I know there is someone out there that is thinking, “Why don’t they just
adopt?”
If I had a dollar for every time someone has said this to me, I’d be able to fund an
adoption or multiple IVF rounds solely on that.

Ok, maybe not quite, but listen I totally get it….you’re all entitled to your own opinions.
So be all of that.

One day it might come down to adoption. We are not against it whatsoever, with or
without a biological child of our own. But for now, please remember that I have a
daughter that isn’t ‘my own,’ per say. I get the blessing of sharing her, so yes, she is my
daughter and always will be, but no matter how it may seem, it’s not the same.

Call me selfish, but I want to experience pregnancy and birth. I know, especially for
those who HAVE been able to experience it, it’s hard for you to understand in some
aspects.
Among other reasons, people seem to think adoption is just SO easy. Adoption costs
money. A LOT of it. In most cases more than fertility treatments. Not to mention lots of
stress, testing, home studies, and TIME, all to not be guaranteed a child through that
route either. It’s a very easy assumption to make when you haven’t been there or done
it.

And yes, I know all of the different options and ways there are to adopt. Trust me. I’ve
spent COUNTLESS hours researching that, among all other aspects of every single
infertility treatment or option out there. Like I said above, opinions are yours, and no
matter what those are, they aren’t going to change anything. We have made the
decision to take the road we have for our personal reasons at this time.
Moving forward…
We left the fertility office, and I found the determination to find 30K. It seemed to be our
ONLY option. I called my mom to tell her the news. We had a chance, but it was
REALLY going to cost us. She questioned if there were other clinics that we could try, a
second opinion, see if we could find somewhere a little cheaper. I was hesitant. I’d
made my mind up, but she was persistent, so I finally obliged. We knew a fellow couple
that had success with IVF at a specific clinic, so we reached out to them and got their
perspective. They had 3 healthy children from IVF, and they had nothing but good
things to say about their doctor. I called to make a consultation appointment. They
quickly got me in the next week. After meeting the doctor, my gut feeling was 100%
changed. This was where we were supposed to be. Not to mention it was quite a bit
cheaper than the prior clinic. He was clearly more interested in helping us bring new life
into this world than how much we could pay him to help us. The doctor agreed that IVF
was our best option, but didn’t push all the ‘extras’ you can do with an IVF cycle.
Special testing, extra medications, extra ultrasounds. We had found our new fertility
home. We both felt at ease there and knew we needed to thank my mom for urging us
to get the second opinion.

We also found out that an endometriosis patient should never be put on Clomid,
because it makes the endometriosis worse. Gee, good to know after being on it for 5+
months. That 6th surgery that came 2 years before expected now made all kinds of
sense. Regrets and frustrations were at an all-time high at this point, but we were on
our new path. Looking up. Eyes forward.

In May of 2017, we started our first round of IVF.

Talk about overwhelming.

Keep in mind, with most insurance companies, fertility treatments are 100% out-ofpocket. If that insurance company sees any sort of infertility diagnosis, you will be
rejected before you can blink. They don’t even ask you for your insurance information
at most fertility clinics.
This includes your medications, that run about $3-3,500 for one cycle (or about 12
days worth).
One treatment cycle can cost anywhere between $12,000 and $25,000, and multiple
cycles may be needed to achieve success. There are also instances where couples
may need donor eggs, sperm, embryos, or even a surrogate, which is significantly
more expensive.
Multiple ultrasounds, lab draws, anesthesia fees, and procedure fees. Don’t forget the
mileage and time you’re taking off of work and spending driving to and from
appointments every other day. It adds up quickly. VERY quickly.

I’ve been lucky enough to have my “side business,” as many people call them, that has
helped us help pay for and afford the treatments and allowed me to be off work during
them. It’s been nothing short of a blessing during our journey.
P.S.: Thanks for nothing, insurance.

Nevertheless, those meds come and you feel like liquid gold was delivered to your door
step. Because they basically are in the world of infertility.

Breast milk to moms = fertility drugs to the Infertile Myrtle.

Starting a cycle consists of a baseline appointment. Labs and an ultrasound to check
everything. The go-ahead to start your injections in a couple of days.

THE BIG DAY ARRIVES. Injections start. Timed precisely. Usually 2 shots in your
stomach in the morning, and 1-2 shots in your stomach at night. This is normally on
top of some medications you are also taking by mouth.

Not going to be home for one of your injections?….you get to pack an ice pack and
lunch bag with your injections in them. Set those timers!

Side effects? You don’t pay all of that money for nothing, right?!

Headaches. Hot flashes. Cold chills. Dizzines. Hunger. Can’t eat. Stomach pains.
Extreme bloating. Weight gain. Exhaustion. Swelling. Acne. Hair loss. Skin changes.
Did I mention weight gain?

All of those plus some. I’ve gained 30 lbs on and off from infertility over the years.
Some weeks I can lose 10 lbs, and gain 20 back the next week. My skin has never
been so susceptible to random rashes and sensitivities. My hair has fallen out and
broken. I’ve had bruises, swelling, and pain from certain injections for 8+ months
AFTER stopping them. Back pain. Leg pain. Nerve pain. I’ve literally gone from a flatter
stomach to looking like I was 7 months pregnant within a week (Yes, I have pictures).

After a few days on the injections, you will go back for another ultrasound and blood
work to see how your ‘follies’ are growing. {Follies is our nickname for the follicles
(where the eggs are located) that are now growing in each ovary.} This liquid gold’s job
is to stimulate the heck out of your ovaries so you produce multiple eggs, instead of
the normal single egg you would release on your own. Return 3-4 more times, usually
every other day for monitoring. Once they are each a certain size, you’re ready for egg
retrieval. This is a huge event! You are put under a quick general anesthetic, and your
doctor takes a SUPER long needle with a catheter attached and pokes through your
uterine wall into your ovary, sucking out each egg one by one. Sounds fun, right?!
Thank God for anesthesia! It takes about 15-20 minutes, then you’re headed off to
recover and wake up to hear how many mature eggs they retrieved. Stress is an
understatement during those few minutes while waiting to hear how many eggs you
got.
After the eggs are retrieved, they are injected with the sperm and stored in a petri dish
to incubate for 5 days.

During this time the number of fertilized eggs will usually decrease due to various
normal reasons. Hearing how many of the embryos didn’t make it through the day/
night was always a heart wrenching phone call. But it only takes one, right?!
We’ve been trying to get pregnant now for just over 4 years. Since we started our
journey with IVF, we’ve done three IVF rounds, still with no pregnancy. My heart has
been ripped out of my chest more than I’d ever like to admit.

In May of 2017, we retrieved 11 eggs. We ended up with 3 embryos to transfer. After
transferring embryos two separate times, we were back to square one with no
pregnancies.

In November of 2017, we started our second round. We got 10 eggs this time, with 3
embryos again. After this retrieval I hyper stimulated, meaning after the retrieval, my
abdomen filled with fluid and swelled up. This can become super dangerous, and I was
lucky enough to have a mild case. I was not hospitalized, but I couldn’t get out of the
recliner on my own for about 4-5 days.

{{It’s all going to be worth it!}}

We returned 2 months later after letting my body rest to transfer our embryos. Planning
on transferring 2, we got up that morning to get ready for the simple procedure. About
a half an hour before we left to head to the office, we got the call that one of the
embryos had arrested during the thawing process. Our chances of this transfer turning
into a pregnancy just quickly diminished by 50%.

No, it’s not a miscarriage, and no it’s not the death of a child. But when you’ve put
yourself through so much to get to this point, it pretty much felt like they ripped another
piece of my heart out. We decided to leave our third and final embryo frozen, and go
ahead with transferring the one.

2 weeks go by.

The “two week wait” in the fertility world is by far the longest 2 weeks anyone will ever
experience. There’s not an hour of the day you aren’t wondering or worrying about
whether or not you’re pregnant. Every single twinge you feel. Was that implantation?!
Did I just get nauseous? Am I dizzy? I’ve been peeing a lot. Wait, did my boob just hurt
a little?

I MUST Be pregnant!!

Unfortunately pregnancy symptoms mimic period symptoms. So anything and
everything you think you might feel can also just be your BFF Aunt Flo getting ready to
make her appearance again.

2 weeks go by, again. Time for the blood draw!

Negative.

How is this happening, AGAIN? Why me, God? What did I do to deserve this? Why do
the people who don’t want kids always happen to get pregnant “accidentally?” Is it too
much to just give me ONE? Am I not worthy of being a mother? Why did that drug
addict get pregnant for the 6th time? They can’t afford 8 kids, why did you give them
another one, but not me? Will I be a bad mother and that is what you’re trying to tell
me? Is something going to happen in my future that would leave my kids without a
mom? Are my husband and I just not compatible?? Why do you hate me, God? I must
have done something terribly wrong to deserve this.

I can’t take anymore pain and worry. I’m done trying. I’m never going to be a mother,
it’s so clear. Why do I even keep trying? I never should have said I didn’t want kids 10
years ago. He’s punishing me for that. I hate you for putting me through this, God. Why
did I ever think you were going to give me the chance? My husband is going to end up
leaving me for someone that CAN have kids. Is that what you’re trying to prove, God?
I’m not a good wife because I can’t give my husband the family he wants. I can’t give
my step-daughter the brother or sister she begs for. She hates coming here because
there aren’t any siblings to play with. That nursery will always just be the spare
bedroom. My body hates me. WHY ME?!
These are just some of the things that started going through my head on a DAILY
BASIS. Hate is a strong word. But it became part of my life.

I hated God for doing this to me. I hated myself for not being able to provide the one
thing my husband and I wanted so badly. I hated my husband for not “understanding.”
I hated anyone who had some type of brilliant insight for how it would all be okay or
how we should “try this instead.” I hated my friends because they had kids. I hated
every single pregnancy announcement I saw on social media. I hated every person I
came across that was pregnant. I hated the girls that constantly complained about their
kids or their pregnancies. I hated going to the grocery and seeing kids or pregnant
girls. I hated the girls that were 5 years younger than me that bragged about how they
got their tubes tied. I hated the parents who couldn’t manage to feed or bathe their
children because they had ‘more important’ things to do. I hated the people that
posted about each and every birthday their children had. I hated all the baby shower
invites. I hated the Christmas cards we got every year…each one with another child
added to the family. I hated the people that asked if I was expecting because my
stomach was bigger and bigger from the meds or the procedures. I hated the people
that asked me if we didn’t want any kids of our own. I hated those that lived
comfortably, when we kept struggling to pay our bills each month because of the debt
we’d incurred due to fertility treatments. I hated that I had to hide it and act like
everything was ok, when NOTHING was. The amount of hard earned money we had
put towards trying to have a child, to always come home empty handed. The physical
amount of stress I’ve put my body through, and now the changes in my body that don’t
seem to ever be going away. The mental state I have been in and out of over the years.
The back and forth of where we turn next. Is it possible to do just ONE more round?
The emotional roller coaster of trying to keep your marriage afloat after so much loss
and negative emotions. The constant reminder that you thought you could trust God,
but decided you couldn’t, over and over again.

I had to get myself out of the slump I was in. Yes. This entire thing SUCKS. No one can
even remotely understand it if they haven’t lived it themselves. But being the negative
Nancy that I was wasn’t helping me. And who was I to BLAME GOD? As mad as I was
at Him, there was no reason to completely give up on Him.

The highs and lows of infertility got worse with every single month that passed and I
still have NEVER seen a positive pregnancy test. I hated every single person in my life
on some days, including myself.

I had to go back to church. For myself, for my husband, for my step-daughter, for my
family, for my friends.

A year ago I did just that, and it’s been the best thing that I could have EVER done for
myself. I still struggle immensely with our situation, but learning to lean on God,
especially on the really bad days, and learning to trust Him again has made me realize
that even though I haven’t been blessed with a child yet, I’m still extremely blessed in
life.

We decided to try ONE more time. (There’s always a ONE MORE TIME, it’s like one
more beer.)

There is no way I can just give up, even though there have been so many days I’ve
wanted to.

My doctor said I had to take a break, for my body, for my mind. He was right. I was a
MESS.

We’d wait 3-5 months and give it one last shot.

Life happened, per usual, and we ended up having to wait almost another whole year.
I’ll admit now, it was the best thing for me in the end.

2019 was going to be it. Third cycle was going to be the charm. I just KNEW it.

We retrieved 11 eggs! 9 of those were mature and were injected to fertilize.

This time we tried a new form of IVF called INVOcell, where the fertilized eggs are
transferred back into the woman’s uterus in a device to incubate for the 5 days. It’s
cheaper since you don’t have the lab fees, and it’s more natural since you are
incubating your embryos yourself.

Complications arose after the retrieval. Thanks to my fabulous friend endometriosis, we
are pretty positive my bladder is attached to my uterus again, causing my bladder to
be right there when the needle was inserted to take the eggs out. I couldn’t pee after
the surgery, and I had a large blood clot in my bladder. I had to be cathed. It was all
blood. What is usually a simple procedure, didn’t end so simple. Leave it to my body!
After getting my pain under control, I was sent home. My bladder should stop
spasming soon and I should be able to pee on my own.
9 hours later I still hadn’t peed. 12 hours total. To the ER I went.

Let me just say, not being able to pee is one of the worst feelings in the world
especially when you’ve been pumped full of IV fluids. I got to come home with a
catheter that night, with my new friend attached to me for the next two days. The blood
finally dispersed from my urine, and I was able to remove the catheter and pee on my
own again. Thank GOD!

5 days later, we would return to have the device removed, find out how many embryos
matured to day 5, and we would transfer two back in the same day. That next Monday
couldn’t come soon enough! I’d met so many other women who had success with this
new type of IVF, and I just knew it was going to be the charm for us as well.

A piece of my heart wasn’t ripped out of my chest that morning. I’m pretty sure it felt
like my entire heart was ripped out. My world crashed completely down when my
doctor came in the room and said, “It’s not good news.”

NONE of the embryos had made it. Both docs were puzzled. I was an absolute train
wreck, and my husband and doctor both were trying to keep it together to help me
breathe.

I never wanted to get out of bed again. I was done. I thought my negatives before had
taken a toll on me, but not having even ONE viable embryo to transfer this time was it.
The fact of leaving empty-handed after ALL OF THAT I just went through was my
breaking point.

All of that money. All of that pain. All of that stress. All of that time.
I was giving up. I was beyond done.

It took me weeks to come around. Antidepressants and anxiety medications have
become my best friends over the last few years during my low points. I’m not afraid to
admit that infertility has ROCKED my world again and again, and somedays those
medications are the ONLY things that get me through the day. I still struggle on a daily
basis, but it’s up to me to keep my mind right or I will never make it though this.

I finally found the courage to have a follow-up appointment to discuss what happened.
My doctor was so puzzled that he sent our case to 5 other fertility specialists around
the US to confirm what his suspicion was.
My eggs didn’t even fertilize, even with ICSI and the sperm injection.

We weren’t only looking at female factor infertility as it has always been, we now
entered the world of male factor infertility as well.

How. Does. That. Happen????
According to studies, approximately one-third of infertility is attributed to the female
partner, one-third attributed to the male partner, and one-third is caused by a
combination of problems in both partners or is unexplained. Most people don’t realize
that male factor infertility is so common. I know I didn’t.
My, how lucky we are!

God really likes to test me some days. But He also reminds me to stay close to him,
and He will bring me through it.

Probably not on my timing, but heck, what even is my timing anymore?!

Through all of this, one of the biggest things I’ve learned is—keeping our journey a
secret will never help us. The stigma with infertility is to keep it ‘hush hush.’
People get embarrassed when you talk about it.

Please. Try living it.

Infertility is a disease, just like cancer, or diabetes. Those who have never lived it, don’t
understand the severity of it.

When you are taught that it needs to be hidden, how are you supposed to cope with
the debilitating emotions of it?

When I began sharing my story, I was amazed at all of the people that reached out to
me that were struggling as well. People I talked to on a normal basis that I had NO idea
were going through the same struggle. Along with people that I didn’t even know at the
time.
It’s DEFINITELY not an easy thing to talk about. It’s PERSONAL. It’s embarrassing. It’s
not what people think is NORMAL.

Guess what.

Infertility IS more and more normal now, unfortunately. Mainly because people actually
talk about it now.

I can guarantee you personally know SOMEONE who has dealt with infertility,
miscarriage, infant loss, or secondary infertility. No, you probably wouldn’t ever have
guessed it with some of them. But I can tell you right now they struggle more than you
can EVER know.

By sharing my story, I have been able to help so many other women know there is
HOPE. There is a reason to keep your head up. There IS someone out there to talk to,
to ask questions and get advice from. You’re not alone. And if I can make an impact on
even one life by sharing my journey, that’s what I’m going to do.

Over the years I’ve received so much strife about why I share, why I talk about it so
openly.
My answer is simple.

It helps me keep going.

It’s helped me realize that even though I’ve only ever seen negatives, there is a positive
out there somewhere.

Being open has lifted the weight off my shoulders of keeping it all in and bottled up.

It’s helped me find other women to lean on. It’s helped me find women that need
someone so badly to talk to about it.

We are a tribe. Talking to someone who hasn’t been through it just simply doesn’t cut it
most days.

Having someone to vent to when someone tells you to “JUST adopt” or “quit trying
and it will happen” is HUGE.

If you haven’t ever been down this road, please try to be mindful to those who have.
You might never know who is struggling, and it only takes a sentence to bring all of
those extremely negative emotions and past experiences back.

You wouldn’t tell a cancer patient to “just relax” and their cancer will go away.

You wouldn’t tell a diabetic to stop their medications and treatment and see what
happens.

So don’t tell someone who prays and hopes and longs for a child to “just relax”, or
“have you tried this?”
A listening ear, a hug, or even changing the subject is what we need most. If we want
to talk about our journey and the struggle, listen. Don’t give your unsolicited advice. We
know you don’t mean harm by it, but after hearing it day after day after day….literally
every day, we can’t hear anything positive from it.

Somehow I’ve learned throughout our journey that hating the world won’t get me
anywhere. I’ve learned to not hate myself and/or my body. I’ve learned that although
some days it doesn’t seem like it, our marriage is stronger than it ever was before,
especially given what we’ve been through together. The only thing I can attribute this to
is the fact that I learned to bring God back into my life. We found an amazing new
church and church family that have been there through some of the hardest times. No
questions asked. No judgements given.

Instead of being mad and ‘hating’ God, I’ve learned to ask him to just help me through
this, and I’m working everyday to trust Him again.

Our journey has been a rollercoaster, and it’s not finished yet. I don’t know what
tomorrow, next month, or the next year will bring us. I don’t know what our next step
will be for sure. But I know He has a plan for us, and as hard as it is some days, I’m
going to continue to hold on to hope.

1,700+ days later and I’ve never seen ONE positive pregnancy test. I’m now 32 years
old. My husband turns 30 this year. My step-daughter will be 8 and begs for a little
brother all of the time. And most people around our age have finished building their
families by now.

Debilitating stress and emotions. Immense amounts of debt. Wishing we had the
reasons others do for being stressed out about busyness, dirty houses, and children’s
school or medical bills. Nap times gone bad. Illnesses. 1,000’s of diapers or diaper
blow-outs. Bottles after bottles. To breast feed or no? No sleep. Teething. Nightly
homework and extra curriculars. Kindergarten round-ups. School plays. I could go on
and on.

I want so bad to give up. But I know GOD has a plan for us.

It’s taken more strength than I EVER thought I had, but this storm will bring us
sunshine. We just have to trust in His timing.

“I will walk by faith even when I cannot see.”

2 Corinthians 5:7