Hello!
I was recently invited by my fertility clinic to share a written piece on how the COVID-19 situation was affecting our fertility plans. This is what I wrote:
“For those of you who have been or are currently fertility patients, my story could be a trigger. It will touch on the pain of countless negative pregnancy tests, the overwhelm of learning about all the ways my body was failing me, the experience of loss, and finally the grief of COVID-19 possibly deciding that our journey is coming to an end. I am choosing to share it not because I am looking for sympathy, but because I know I am not alone in my experiences and feelings. I know how empowering it can be to hear other people’s stories and relate to them. It almost makes you feel a little more ”normal”, a little less “broken”.
For those of you who have never entered the doors of a fertility clinic, I hope my story gives you a glimpse into the journey that some of your family and friends are experiencing. You will never understand it completely (I mean, how could you?) so please, let go of the burden of trying to. Instead, create space in your heart to support your loved ones, know that despite your best intentions you will say or do the “wrong” thing, and educate yourself. Knowledge is surprisingly powerful.
Our fertility journey started about 7 years ago, long before COVID-19 became something that preoccupied our minds. Before I go any further, it is important to note that we have a healthy (and strong-willed might I add) almost 4.5-year-old daughter thanks to the help of Seattle Reproductive Medicine. Yes, you read that correctly. We had a successful assisted pregnancy and live birth during pre-coronavirus times. So why am I telling my story of how this destructive virus is affecting our fertility journey? Grab a beverage of your choice (maybe keep it nonalcoholic, maybe even low caffeine – I guess that depends on where you are at in your journey), find a comfortable seat, and join me for our story…
As I mentioned, we were blessed to welcome a healthy baby girl into our lives. The date was October 29, 2015. I wish I could say that the feeling of being “broken” magically disappeared when she was born. It did not. However, it did get buried under all the joy, happiness, and let’s be honest, the fatigue of parenting. Unfortunately, that feeling of being broken, of not being enough, still lived deep in my soul and psyche. It always seemed to play interference whenever the idea of expanding our family was being discussed. My husband and I were both scared of what embarking on another fertility journey was going to mean for our family. The memories of countless negative pregnancy tests (when you are TTC you tend to test multiple times a month silently hoping that the first test was taken too early), headaches and nausea from medication, and guilt of knowing that it was MY body that was failing us, seemed like a big mountain that I just wasn’t ready to climb. Until one day, I was…
It was early 2019, during our last Seattle snowpocalypse (2020 couldn’t you just have given us another one of those?!) when I experienced my first and only chemical pregnancy. It had taken my husband and I few months to get on the same page about expanding our family. However, when we did, we made the decision to see what might happen without fertility assistance. I was blessed that my pregnancy with my daughter had kickstarted my body in a way that didn’t require medication anymore. And lo and behold we managed to get pregnant. I knew before I took the first test that it would show a positive. It was faint, but it was there. The next day it was still there. Then on the third or fourth day I got my period and the tests were negative from there on out. There was no grief because we hadn’t had time to become attached to the idea of being pregnant. However, the reminder of our past (the constant disappointment with every negative test) was loud and clear. This experience scared both of us away from the idea of trying for a second, at least for a while.
Later in 2019, we decided that it was time. The gap between our daughter and a possible sibling was just increasing and we weren’t getting any younger. We realized that given our history and the fact that some of my issues would never fully go away, it was better to consult with our fertility team. We met with Dr. Dudley (who from day 1 has always made us feel like people before patients) and we made a plan. What we didn’t know, was that the universe had a different plan for us. Around the time of our appointment, we surprisingly ended up conceiving unassisted. A few weeks later, I knew that I was pregnant before I took a test. And like last time, I was right. This time the line got darker and darker each day. My blood draws were positive, and we set a date for a viability ultrasound. But the universe had a different plan. The week of my ultrasound I started bleeding and I knew; I knew in my heart that this was the beginning of the end. We had an ultrasound, where we saw the flicker of a heartbeat and no visible explanation of my symptoms. Then we waited, my husband holding onto hope, but my instinct told me to guard my heart. The days before my next ultrasound were long and emotional. I knew the statistics, but I never fathomed being the 1 in 4. We went to the appointment together. During the ultrasound, as they searched my uterus high and low, I noticed that my husband was holding his breath. He didn’t release his exhale until the provider looked at us apologetically and said the words we hoped not to hear. I don’t know that I will ever forget the sound of that exhale. It is imprinted in my mind and in my heart.
Just an hour later I was picking up my 4-year-old from preschool, the emptiness of my womb heavy on my heart. But I had to hold it together – it was my job to shield her from my pain. It was also just a few days before Christmas, which affected our ability to grieve. We put on brave faces, trying not to dampen the festivities for our friends and family. Every night leading up to Christmas, I waited for family to go to bed so that I could cry. I stayed up for hours sobbing into my pillow to dampen the noise, to protect everyone else in the house from my hurt. The days and weeks that followed our loss were a rollercoaster. Some days were good, other days were not. I could not pinpoint my triggers, which sometimes meant that my emotions would rise to the surface at unexpected (and less than ideal) times. I feel awful for the man who was on the treadmill beside me at my first group fitness class post-loss. Something about physically connecting to my body opened the floodgates and I could not hold my emotions in.
After our loss we knew we weren’t ready to call it quits, but we also knew that it might take some time before our hearts were ready to move forward with our fertility journey. The idea of another loss or possibility of not getting pregnant suddenly became much more real. As the good days started to outnumber the bad days, it became easier to see the possibility of a positive outcome. So, we decided to move ahead with our plan. We connected with the clinic to let them know that we were ready. They asked us to contact them on a specific day of my cycle so that we could proceed. My excitement became greater than my fears. I felt confident in our decision. But then the world changed…
COVID-19 arrived fast and furious. What seemed like a distant threat, was suddenly very close to home. Initially, my husband and I still felt like we would go ahead with scheduling our procedure. However, as that cycle day approached and the situation started to overwhelm the world, it started to feel like it might not be the right choice. We decided with heavy hearts that we would not go ahead as planned. It turned out that if we had waited a few more days to make that decision, it would have been made for us anyways. The American Society of Reproductive Medicine issued the recommendation to postpone the initiation of new treatment cycles, which meant our procedure could not have proceeded. On the day of what would have likely been our procedure, I felt a wave of grief and a surge of emotions. Not knowing what the future holds with COVID-19 around made be realize that the fate of our fertility journey may be in the hands of this destructive virus. Without knowing how and when this will end (as well as the growing age gap between our daughter and a future baby) we may not proceed with expanding our family. I was sad for us, but at the same time I felt very selfish feeling sad considering all that was going on in the world.
The mix of emotions brought on by COVID-19 does not end there. As I write this, I notice that I am holding my breath. What I am about to say might sound awful, but it is my truth. There is a part of me that feels relieved that I am not currently mid-pregnancy. The stress and anxiety of being pregnant during this time may have been more than I could handle. It makes me feel that maybe our loss in late 2019 was for a reason. Co-existing with that relief are guilt, grief, and sadness. I feel guilty for feeling the sense of relief. I still feel grief for the loss we experienced. I still feel sadness that our family of three isn’t on its way to being a family of four. And whether it will be in the future is simply unknown at this time.
My heart breaks for couples whose fertility journey is being impacted by this virus. I acknowledge that since I already have one healthy child my experience is not the same as those who are still trying to become parents. I acknowledge that my fertility journey is peanuts compared to other people, including people that I know and love. I acknowledge that there is a lot of heartbreak happening in the world right now that is much bigger than mine. I also want to point out that this account of my fertility journey is not inclusive of all the emotions and experiences we endured – good and bad. Believe it or not, there were positive elements of our journey that will live with us forever. As for now as we endure the unknown, I keep coming back to my breath. Sending my attention to each inhale and exhale allows me to be present in my body, rather than lost in my mind. I will admit, it is easier said than done. But that is what practice is for…”
~Carly
