At 28, my husband, Mark, and I decided it was time to start our family. We had been married for three years, and after I finished my course of Accutane—an acne medication that requires at least six months to leave your system before trying to conceive due to potential birth defects—we felt ready. Plus, we had just enjoyed an amazing trip through France with friends. What better moment to settle down and welcome a little one into our lives?
However, the path to pregnancy didn’t go as smoothly as I had envisioned. A year passed, and I was still waiting for that positive test. When I finally saw those two little lines, Mark and I were overjoyed. The anxiety began to fade, and I thought everything was finally falling into place.
Just six weeks into my pregnancy, I took my dog to the park, excitedly watching her romp with her furry pals when a sudden, excruciating pain shot through my abdomen. This wasn’t the typical morning sickness; this felt like a knife stabbing me. I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
Fearing the worst, I called my doctor, who bluntly advised me to seek immediate medical attention. Seeking comfort, I called another doctor who reassured me that it was probably nothing. But the pain persisted, and with my husband away, I had to drive myself to the clinic. After a vaginal ultrasound and some probing questions, the diagnosis hit me like a ton of bricks: an ectopic pregnancy. The embryo was stuck in my Fallopian tube, and the solution involved a shot of chemotherapy to encourage it to pass. Strangely, I remained optimistic; at least I knew I could conceive.
But when that shot failed, I found myself facing surgery. The surgeon hoped to remove the embryo while preserving my Fallopian tube. When I woke up, I was told the situation was far more bizarre than expected. My embryo had implanted on my bladder—yes, my bladder! The doctor was practically giddy, exclaiming that such occurrences are rare. I took it in stride, focusing on the silver lining: I had proven I could get pregnant.
Mark and I didn’t waste time and began trying to conceive again. After an agonizing year and a half of stress-filled attempts, we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Fast forward two years, and I faced the heartbreak of two miscarriages—one at home and the other requiring a D&C procedure.
We sought the expertise of a fertility specialist, who after a series of tests, delivered the crushing news: I had “Diminished Ovarian Reserve,” meaning my eggs were too old to produce a viable pregnancy. He suggested we consider an egg donor or adoption. The costs were staggering: $20,000 for an egg donor, and $10,000 to $20,000 for adoption, depending on whether it was domestic or international. I felt completely overwhelmed.
Friends and family had plenty of advice, including the dreaded question, “Do you really want to use someone else’s egg?” I spoke with a woman who adopted two children from Russia, and her experience sounded grueling. While I respect adoption and understand its beauty, it wasn’t my desired route.
Seeking a second opinion at a new fertility clinic, we learned about the potential of In Vitro Fertilization (IVF). This process involves fertilizing an egg and sperm outside the body, then nurturing them before implantation. Hope sparked within me again.
I began self-administering hormone injections and blood thinners, mastering the art of stabbing myself in the belly until I looked like a human bruise. Mark supported me through it all, though let’s just say his part of the process involved less glamour and more awkwardness.
Our first IVF cycle didn’t succeed, and despair started creeping in. I considered the possibility that maybe our family was complete with just three of us. This wasn’t what I truly believed, but self-preservation kicked in. However, we decided to give it one last shot.
The second cycle yielded four viable embryos! The doctor suggested transferring just two to avoid complications, but I wanted to go all in. I placed all four embryos into my uterus, and to my astonishment, three took. At my six-week ultrasound, I saw three tiny beans with strong heartbeats. I immediately inquired about their survival chances, and the doctor reassured me they were all looking good.
After seven long years filled with an unusual ectopic pregnancy, two miscarriages, and two rounds of IVF, I welcomed four beautiful children into my life. The journey has been challenging, raising higher-order multiples tests patience, emotions, finances, and marriage, but I’ve learned some invaluable lessons along the way.
Lessons Learned
- Always seek a second opinion—without it, I wouldn’t have my beautiful trio.
- Miscarriages are heartbreaking, but acceptance is key to moving forward.
- Trust your instincts. I always felt destined for more than one child. Sometimes, you’ve got to put all your eggs in one basket and hope for the best.
For more insightful information about pregnancy and family-building options, check out this excellent resource at Resolve. If you’re considering at-home insemination options, explore this guide and learn more about the fertility tools available at Make a Mom.
Summary
This journey reflects the emotional rollercoaster of trying to conceive, navigating through unexpected challenges like ectopic pregnancies, miscarriages, and ultimately IVF. It emphasizes the importance of seeking second opinions, trusting your instincts, and the resilience needed in the face of adversity.