Emma’s Journey

I have to pinch myself regularly. From a place of desperation and adversity came a wonderful opportunity to truly make a difference in this world, by helping others on their trying to conceive journeys.

In December 2019 my husband Adam and I set up Your IVF abroad, a service that offers fertility clinic matching in Europe, books your treatment and then organises everything for you  – saving you a ton of money along the way, as let’s face it fertility treatment is not cheap and sadly often takes more than one cycle. Our service gives access to those who don’t ‘qualify’ (hate that word) for treatment in their home countries, helps with the paperwork, sits between them and the clinic to ensure they have clarity and an advocate all the way along. Most importantly we provide our clients with support to answer the questions you don’t yet know you have. Why? because we have been there – four times (more on that later), so we know what our community needs instinctively. We get ‘it’ and get ‘you’ and we have made it our mission to make fertility treatment a more affordable, accessible and supported choice, for as many people as possible.

It’s my dream job and more than that, a real passion project.  I find the work cathartic and love being able to make a  genuine difference to peoples lives in this way, removing faff and stress where possible which allows time and headspace to concentrate on the important bits. Your IVF abroad allows us to give people the best value for their money at world class clinics,  making treatment more accessible for everyone, including those who may have a higher BMI, are single, older or need donation support, all without a waiting list.  With my love of travel and the benefits it brings it makes me happy that our clients are able to take a break away from the stresses of home and work while having their treatment. Oh and we don’t take any commission which means we are truly unique in the UK and our clients know we have their back, 100%. Any money offered from the clinics is given back to our clients – negating a good chunk of our fee.

So that’s where we are today, but how did we get here? I met Adam in 2013 and after a whirlwind romance and two dates later (yep that’s right) I left to go travelling around the world for a year. We stayed in touch, Adam’s Dad sadly passed away from Cancer and he decided to come and join me in Australia, where we travelled, worked and finished the trip with a month in New Zealand living the dream. I returned home with a soon to be fiance almost 15 months later. Life was good. It was 2014  we had moved into a flat together, got jobs easy enough, were engaged and had started ‘casually’ trying to conceive. Six months of the casual turned into six months of all the tricks/old wives tales, yet I still was not pregnant. We visited the GP who said there were some ‘issues’ (another awful word) and referred us through to Gynecology who through more testing  discovered that I had low AMH and was perimenopausal and that Adam had low Sperm count and motility. We had a 4-5% chance of conceiving through IVF and if we were to be offered it on the NHS I needed to lose six stone to get my BMI down to just under 35. I remember this day well and it was one of the worst days of my life. Surely we could just take a tablet or something and fix this? Aside from a higher BMI we were young and healthy. Once we had gotten over the shock and upset I managed to find the determination needed to lose the weight, even when our chances were so low as giving up was not an option. We came away from that appointment with determination that even though the chances of success were so low, someone had to be in the 4%-5% right, so why not us? I worked really hard over the next two years to lose the weight sensibly, Adam supported me and lost a shed load too. We returned to the hospital two years later feeling really healthy and positive, only to be told that the rules in our CCG area had changed and that to qualify now I would need to lose a further 2.5 stone. I was a size 14/16, 5’10” who was eating well and exercising regularly. I was healthy and fit, yet now  didn’t qualify for treatment in my area, but if we had lived a few miles down the road I would have still qualified. This must be a joke without a punchline? The Dr was embarrassed and admitted that privately I would be able to access treatment with my BMI now at just under 35.

I was devastated, I felt like I was going to collapse to the ground, my heart was racing and my head spinning. All hope had gone. We left the appointment with no options apart from to lose weight and off we went feeling completely and utterly miserable.

I decided I didn’t feel I could lose any more weight without resorting to drastic unhealthy measures, plus I was acutely aware of my low AMH and perimenopause like a ticking time bomb and I didn’t want to waste another second. We began to look at the cost of private fertility treatment in the UK and after moving back in with parents to save, putting our lives on hold we quickly realised we could only afford one round and that felt like far too much pressure, particularly on those odds. We began our search abroad, found the whole process overwhelming, but after lots of research and a few free consultations we selected the clinic we knew was right for us.

During consultation donor treatment was discussed and suddenly our chances of conception grew to 60%-70%. Also, the clinic was so confident it would work after two rounds they would give us our third for free if not and we didn’t have to pay for a multi-cycle either, just one at once as we may only need one round. Wow. What came next? Hope.

To hear that we needed donor egg and sperm support was of course a lot to take in, the loss of our genetics, the grief that may follow and the potential worries about how a future child may feel about this decision. However, what it also did was give us an option that we had never considered and much higher odds of success. As the odds were so high we knew it would probably work in 2-3 cycles and because the treatment was so much cheaper, we knew we could afford this many cycles if needed.

Following that hideous last appointment with Gynecology we did look into other paths to parenthood and ruled out those that weren’t right for us, but at no point had donor support been mentioned or considered and we felt excited and hopeful again for the first time in a long time. We knew there would be no question about the love we would feel if we were lucky enough to become parents, by whatever means and that we would make sure any children born as a result of donor support would themselves be well supported, and this is the same for all children anyway, right? 

We had four rounds in total, including a cancelled cycle due to a pesky Ovarian Cyst. On our last and free cycle we conceived twins, but sadly we lost one of them at 10 weeks, which was of course heartbreaking. Now thanks to science, medicine and some pretty amazing people who chose to donate their egg and sperm, giving us the greatest gift of all, we now have a two year old beautiful little boy. Albie looks like us and is like us in nature thanks I guess to epigenetics and some nature/nurture. I am truly blessed to be a parent and that donor support was an option for us to consider. Without it I would not have experienced pregnancy and birth and the opportunity to become Albie’s Mum. We could not love him anymore and wouldn’t change anything, as to do so would be to change him and he’s perfect as he is. We are his parents, categorically, no question.

Do I sometimes get scared about the future and how he may react to his story? Yes of course, at times, but I stop myself, because who knows what is going to happen or how he will feel. I refuse to spend more time on what Infertility has taken away from me.  I am focussing on the positives, enjoying my little boy who without donor support would not be here now and by helping others who are trying to conceive. A big f*ck you to infertility. What I do know for sure are the things I can control. Albie will always know how loved he is, that we will always support him, how much we wanted him and that genetics are part of his story, but only one part of it. Love makes a family, not genetics. I hope this helps some of you who I know are struggling and I send you lots of love.

Emma x

www.yourivfabroad.co.uk

Instagram and Facebook – @yourivfabroad

Facebook free, confidential and closed support group – Infertility Warriors – let battle commence, a space where we share and support those who are trying to conceive with infertility. Link below.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/664716764268411

Brooke’s Journey

Hi I’m Brooke and I’m infertile. 

Flashback nearly 5 years ago when I experienced my first miscarriage. My fiancé (now husband) and I purchased our first home and not long after I found out I was pregnant. I’m going to jump around a bit here just to give you a little more information about me. I was diagnosed with type one diabetes at 18 months, whenever I tell a new doctor that they just cannot believe how young I was when I was diagnosed. So, before I found out I was pregnant I wasn’t feeling well in the middle of the night and I thought it was diabetes related, I’ve been hospitalized due to DKA a few times in my lifetime so I’m no stranger to the hospital and the symptoms. I go to the hospital and this was around March 2015. They hook me up to IV and ask a bunch of questions, finally a nurse blurts “YOURE PREGNANT” …what?… my cycles were completely irregular and I just didn’t expect that to come out of her mouth. I found out I was 8 weeks along. They release me and I go to work the next day, a few days go by and then bam, blood. I called my doctor and they said “as long as it doesn’t progress you should be fine” oh it progressed. By the end of the work day it was bad. I miscarried my baby later that night. I cannot even put into words how that entire night made me feel. I remember it like it was yesterday. Our house was a mess because we were still moving in, things were torn apart. It was just awful. A few weeks had gone by and my doctor was just making sure my HCG was going down and it finally did. 

Fast forward to 2017. October 1 2017 I became Mrs. Brooke Stoner. It’s now close to the holidays and I told my husband “we’re having sex everyday until I get pregnant” of course he didn’t argue that😜 we had friends over for Friendsgiving and my best friend told me she was pregnant, I was thrilled, a new baby to the mix. But of course I thought to myself “when will it be my turn” we hadn’t been trying for long but when you’re trying, it just feels like a life time. That Sunday morning we were lying in bed and our English bulldog was extremely cuddly, much more cuddlier than normal so my husband said “take a pregnancy test” POSITIVE. I was in shock. I walked over and said “what does this say?” It was everything we hoped for. We got to surprise my parents for Hanukkah by telling them I was pregnant. I remember telling my best friend “someone else is pregnant too” and we were so excited to having babies so close together. Everything was falling into place. New Years came and I just felt off. My first ultrasound was coming up and my mom went with me. As soon as she told me to empty my bladder and used an internal ultrasound I knew something wasn’t right and boy was I right. “No heart beat” I’ve never cried so hard in my entire life. Another miscarriage? But why? Why does this keep happening? I rushed to my OBGYN and my options were 1. Let it pass naturally or 2. D&C. I chose to do a D&C, I needed this to be done ASAP. A few days later it was done and they even tested my baby, everything was normal, a normal babygirl. Until this day my heart hurts saying it. Not long after I was diagnosed with PCOS. Months went by with trying to convenience with letrozole and times intercourse with no results. We decided it was time to see a specialist. 27, diabetic, hypothyroidism, PCOS and infertile. 

I go and see an RE, months go by with continue letrozole and nothing is happening, I ended up switching to a different clinic. At this new one we did three rounds of IUI, with one I did get pregnant but it was a bio chemical pregnancy. I then decided so much time is wasted. I am 100% out of pocket. I need another perspective on all of this. I’m now 29, with another new RE and that’s who I see now. I told him my history, my story and everything else. He said “as much as I’d like to try different things you’ve been at this for years now and I know you just want to have a baby” so he agreed to IVF. May 17, 2020 was my egg retrieval. They predicted I’d hyper stimulate and I did. I was so uncomfortable, so miserable but when the nurse asked me how I’m feeling I said “thankful” and she looked at me and said that’s amazing. 20 eggs were retrieved, 11 fertilized and 10 made it to freeze. I had many more obstacles after my egg retrieval. After one of my sonohystagrams they found scar tissue in my uterus, had surgery to remove it a few weeks later did a repeat sono, scar tissue was still there. What. A. Nightmare. The doctor put me on medication to bring on my cycle to see if that would clear me out, thankfully it did. 
September 25, 2020 FET number 1. My best grades embryo. We were so excited. So hopeful, but geeze the TWW is awful! Unfortunately it was negative. We chose to take a few months off to relax, recoup, heal and just take time off. Fast forward to January 13, 2021 FET number 2, which resulted in a positive pregnancy.

Everything was going well, my beta was over 2000 right around 5 weeks. The night before I went in for my first ultrasound I was sitting on my couch and I just had a weird feeling and then it felt like I peed and I knew I just knew things were taking a turn. I called my doctor and he told me not to be concerned until I come in the next day. For the next few hours it was a nightmare. I went in for my ultrasound and there was a sac, I went back and spoke to the nurse and then my doctor walked in and I just started to break down. I told him that I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He told me that everything looked fine from the ultrasound but we just have to wait until my beta comes back. Waiting for those results felt like an eternity. Finally the nurse called me that evening and told me that my numbers didn’t increase enough.

IVF is hard. I give so much credit to anyone that has to go through all of this. Another loss, another round of starting over again. Most days I do my very best to remain hopeful but I won’t lie there are days I wonder if I’ll ever have my own baby.

I have so many mixed emotions. Mostly disappointed that my body failed. Angry that I had another miscarriage. And sad, gosh I can be driving somewhere and I just burst into tears for no reason. Some days are better than others. 

This is hard. It‘s emotional. And it’s frustrating. But I will say this, I’m always thankful to have the opportunity to try and to keep trying. 

We’re all warriors. 🍍

I’m now 30 but I’m hopeful. I’m hopeful for this transfer. So far everything has gone well. I’m also hopeful for the future, whatever that may be. 

Lynsey’s Journey

Do I share how I feel, do I keep it to myself and try to always be brave and strong. 

The answer: it depends on the day and if I’m feeling strong enough to say something out loud.

Saying something out loud to me is more scary than keeping everything to myself. 

Saying something out loud also makes it feel real for me to which sometimes I prefer to pretend it’s all ok.

I always try to be brave, strong and keep a smile on my face for everything in life. I like to be the one who looks after other people and make other people smile and feel good. I feel too vulnerable to be the one who might need help. It makes me feel like I’m being a burden or a drama queen, or that people will think I’m only looking for attention.

Every day everyone has there own things going on, their own ups and downs. I don’t want them to have to worry about me or feel like they need to check in. 

Sometimes it’s easier to tell strangers how I’m feeling or the scary things I’m going through. Some of the Facebook groups have been my main go to for support and I don’t know what I’d have done without them. All the other amazing, strong, friendly people that are on a similar journey to me. We all know that we are there for each other but to me because I don’t have to face them and they don’t have to feel like they must check in on me then it makes sharing so much easier.

Some people I love most don’t know what kind of journey we are on because I feel like they will worry, or there’s too much pressure if I tell them because then what if things don’t work out, or what if they do?

I don’t keep things to myself to shut others out, it’s quite the opposite for me. It’s so they get the Lynsey they know and so I can just forget about my infertility whilst I’m with them and I can be the normal Lynsey for myself too, if just for a while. 

Infertility and IVF are like a second job. The appointments, the endless researching trying to be your own advocate because to most doctors we are “normal”. The different medications, scans, talking about things that for more than half of my life we are taught not to talk about. From a very early age we are taught that we need to be careful because it is so easy to get pregnant but nothing is mentioned about the people that struggle to get pregnant. 1 in 8 couples struggle with infertility 

So many doctors just give young girls the pill because it’s an easy fix, anything out of the “normal” idea of a period – take the pill. This could be having huge ongoing side affects to a girls fertility but it is never discussed at the time, nor is there investigation in to why there is a problem in the first place. 

It’s not until years later when people want to start a family do these things make themselves known and even then it may not be found that easily.

I don’t keep things to myself to shut others out, it’s quite the opposite for me. It’s so they get the Lynsey they know and so I can just forget about my infertility whilst I’m with them and I can be the normal Lynsey for myself too, if just for a while.

To all the amazing women who do cry every time there is a pregnancy announcement, a baby scan photo, walking down the baby aisle in the supermarket, every time you get your period, each single line pregnancy test – I see you, I feel you 

To the amazing women that do get pregnant we still love you and are so happy for you, we just get sad for ourselves. Some days are easier than others. Some days we can put on a smile and we are ok but other days it can be too much for our hearts to hold and we just need a little time to process it, or to cry, or to just keep our distance for a while.

If me sharing this and saying this out loud can help even one other person then I’ve done the right thing

If anyone wants to share their story with me, ask me questions or ever needs to talk please please do. 

Some people will read this and understand and not need to or want to say anything but will feel better that someone has said something or is on a similar journey to them. 

Sending love to you all ❤️

#1in8 #infertility #holyshitthatwasscary

@infertility.ivfandme

How Infertility Has Changed Me…

The deep desire to have a baby and all that comes with being unable to conceive naturally, once took over my entire life. The impact of infertility is so powerful that it can often change the purpose of who you are. It has the ability to alienate you from your family and friends by throwing you into a dark hole.

For me, it was about failure, loss of complete control over my life, and feeling utterly powerless.

When I sit back and reflect on it all, my struggle with infertility has been able to fundamentally change a big part of who I’ve become.

Infertility really made me realize what it meant to struggle. Up to this point in my life, I never truly understood the true meaning of ‘struggle’. I grew up with a motto, if you have goal, work hard and you can achieve anything. Until this very moment, when this no longer applied. No matter how hard I tried, I ultimately did not have control or the power to make my goals a reality. And for me… that was incredibly difficult to digest.

There were so many dark days, weeks, and even months that I never believed would be possible to get here. I never thought I’d be able to recover the instrumental pain I’ve endured from infertility. Yet here I am. Most days the magnitude of the gratitude I feel is too large to fully acknowledge.

My struggle with infertility has changed me, no doubt. It has taught me a vast amount to be grateful for. To really be mindful and appreciate the simple things in life that give me pleasure and to appreciate those around me. Ultimately, it has also helped me understand grief a great deal. This gift has allowed me to give back to others, by being that virtual outlet for someone, which sometimes means, sitting in a dark hole with them, but also being that ray of hope that is living proof that this struggle is not life-long. That we have the power to overcome it within, and that when we conquer it (with or without a baby) that we are still worthy and will thrive.

I may not remember every hcG beta, every follicle count, or medical protocol, but I do remember the extreme torturous pain and desolation of what struggling to conceive had on my soul. This personal journey allows me to be vulnerable to others, which I believe is a unique and wonderful gift, and I’m grateful that I found it.

You are enough

I have so many different emotions associated with this photo.  A moment captured of my son Mason, coming up to me with a piece of toilet paper to apply on my tummy after he witnessed one my infamous GONAL-F Injections.

I was quite weak throughout the IVF process, in the sense that I wasn’t able to administer my own injections and needed my husband’s help.  As much as we tried to hide it, there were times which we weren’t left with any other option.  

Going through IVF with a toddler is hard and comes with so many additional emotions that I didn’t experience the first time.  Guilt by far is next level.  Guilt of feeling like a crappy mom.  A mom who subjected her son through moments of despair by being unable to hide my emotions.  Hiding my emotions is extremely hard for me… and there were many times, which I failed to hide my tears in front of Mason that made me feel a million times worse. 

I never want Mason to remember his mom always crying or being sad about not being able to have another baby, especially when I already had one beautifully perfect son to love unconditionally.  

The reality of IVF is that you cry A LOT.  Infertility for me came with feelings of guilt, anger, depression, and a shit load of resentment.  Resentment that IVF had taken so much from me.   How much of my mental capacity it consumed, which resulted in being unable to be fully present in my life, especially those that mattered most – my family.

As much as IVF has taken from me, through the years, it has also helped me become incredibly strong and mindful. The last few years I’ve slowly started to heal and find myself again.  I still fight daily, but I also learn and grow. Today, more than ever, I do not take my tribe for granted.  Vince and Mason are my entire world. They are enough.

Through His Eyes… PPH

Today’s post is a little different… and written by a very special guest… my hubs – Vince.

It only made sense that the next part in our journey that pertained to the delivery of Mason, should be through Vince’s eyes. As I mentioned in my previous post, shortly after my c-section I experienced PPH – Postpartum Hemorrhaging. The very last moment of Mason’s delivery that I remember was seeing his beautiful face and feeling at peace that he was finally here and healthy. From there… I slowly fell into what I believed to be… a deep sleep.

The next part of this blog is written through Vince’s eyes… and it’s important to note that this was something he wasn’t necessarily comfortable with, and opening up regarding his personal experiences is not something he particularly enjoys. So as a community… I hope we all show him the love and support for absolutely nailing his first BLOG!

After Steph gave birth (via C-section) to our beautiful son and feeling grateful for our miracle, my time to enjoy the moment quickly vanished.  Within 15 short minutes, things started to go terribly wrong.  

Initially, I had no clue what was happening, as nurses and doctors continued to enter the room to control the situation, things continued to get worse.  As this chaos continued over the next couple hours, I still didn’t know or understand what was happening. All I knew was that things were bad as I watched Steph’s vitals on the monitor reach near death levels.  

Steph’s blood pressure and heart rate ultimately dropped into the low 30’s and 20’s.. I was completely numb… waiting in shock and disbelief that in any second it could ultimately drop to zero and I could potentially lose her. As a last attempt, the dr’s made an emergency call to the head of obstetrics at our hospital, Mount Sinai, who happened to be on call that night – Dr. Kingdom.

Dr. Kingdom literally saved Steph’s life and the fact that she has a rare blood type AB+ was a blessing. Once he showed up… it became like a scene in Grey’s Anatomy, which Steph loves to watch. Except it wasn’t McDreamy. Much of what followed next has now become a blur at this point because I was so focused and consumed on Steph’s vital monitor like tunnel vision.

I remember Dr. Kingdom’s assertive, confident and positive voice, though at the time, I didn’t believe it. He quickly dictated next steps. He had the anesthesiologist reconfigure 2 additional epidurals; one in Steph’s leg and the second, in her uterus. Next, 3 litres of blood were ordered on rush for a blood transfusion. The blood quickly arrived because of Steph’s universal recipient of blood (AB+). As soon as the blood came, they completed checks and protocols. Initially, Dr. kingdom literally had to manually hand pump the blood directly in Steph’s body because they were simply running out of time to use the traditional method. After he was done pumping 3 litres, the room went from frantic to calm and silent. Everyone paused and anxiously stared at the monitor that I’ve been watching for nearly 3 hours awaiting for vital signs to improve.

After a few tense minutes, blood pressure and heart rate started to stabilize and Steph’s eyes slowly opened.  Noticing that I was still in shock and traumatized, Dr. Kingdom pulled me out of the emergency room and brought me to the cafeteria for a coffee to explain what happened.  After explaining all the details of a uterine hemorrhage, the rest was history.  I was so thankful for everyone’s strength and courage, mainly Steph’s. I am so grateful that I have my family, after all we have experienced and fought for to have one.

When the rain stops…

Everyone has a story.  

I cannot begin to tell you the negative impact social media can have on one’s mental health. Whether it be scrolling through pictures of lavish vacations, nights out on the town with friends, or the pics of peaceful sleeping babies – they’re all one in the same. A snapshot – a moment in time that one uses to showcase their life. Rarely do we see moments of despair, failure, exhaustion, anxiety or depression.

Yet at one point or another – we all have had these moments.  Some more so than others – but we all have a struggle we face in one way or another.

In the first few years of our marriage – boy, was our love tested.  The impact infertility has on one’s marriage is TOUGH!  It’s tough when you become so consumed on what you long for, that nothing around you matters.  Nothing seems important.  You walk around smiling to show the world how ‘together’ you are, but in fact, you’re completely broken.

It’s so important to understand that infertility doesn’t stop once you conceive.  The impact infertility has on your life weighs on you far after you’ve had a child.   For me – it continued far beyond it. 

My journey through trying to give my son a sibling threw me for a whirlwind. With 2 failed back to back IVF cycles, I never let my body/mind/heart heal. I never dealt with my grief. I never spoke about it and avoided trying to work through my loss. Life for everyone around me just went on and I felt like I was slowly vanishing and no one seemed to notice. I became utterly depressed. I became hateful. I resented everyone close to me. And for the better part of two years… I completely lost who I was and all the values I stood for.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again and again…. my husband saved my life.  I begged him to leave me!  Yet – that stubborn man refused to let me go in my darkest of days.  He stood by me (as hard as it was) until the rain finally stopped.   The rain stops.   I know most if you feel like this rain will never end… but it will… it has to! 

This journey we are on is not easy by any stretch of the imagination and it will change you. 

Although I hated every damn minute of the journey to get here and seriously debated whether I had the strength to go on… I would do it all over again to get to the place I am today.

I often will think about what another IVF cycle would look like?  I toy with idea of giving it one last shot… I need to believe that no matter what the outcome is, this woman that I have become continues to thrive.

#1in6

I would be lying if I told you that I would have imagined that the story of our relationship would face so many struggles – but I’d also be lying if I told you that I don’t appreciate my family a hell of a lot more because of it.

I always feared the nightmare of potentially never being able to hear a little voice call me mom, and it’s that fear that I unfortunately allowed to dominate my entire being.   

We struggled with infertility very early on in our marriage and I allowed it to consume me and overcome my soul. It was a time when ‘infertility’ was still a taboo subject and no one really openly talked about it. I so desperately sought out anyone that understood my journey and would not tell me to ‘just relax, not stress, and that it’ll happen’.

We face severe infertility and IVF was our only option at a ‘chance’. Vince and I embarked on the IVF journey together, yet alone. Alone in the sense that there weren’t many social media platforms and support communities, that focused on couples sharing their stories, advice, and words of encouragement. We had no one that understood the true grief that comes with infertility.

This journey truly took a toll on me, emotionally, physically and mentally. I experienced many moments of emotional breakdowns, depression, and resentment. I became an ugly person that I didn’t even recognize. I withdrew myself from all those that I loved most, especially my husband.

If there’s one thing that I want to share from my story, is how critical it is to live for today; not tomorrow, not 2 years from now, and definitely not dwelling on yesterday. I learned to focus on the step ahead, rather than the whole flipping staircase.

We had our son Mason in 2013 after our first successful IVF attempt.  We had 2 blasts make it to day 5 and took a chance and put them both in!  We were blessed with our 9lb12oz son 9 months later!   

After 12 months, Vince and I both decided we longed to give Mason a sibling. Not having experienced the pain of a failed IVF cycle, I was determined and even excited to give it another shot! (Literally) 2 failed cycles later, we felt defeated and utterly exhausted. ‘It’s a blessing you have Mason’ is what they would say, and while that’s true, no one can truly understand the anguish of succumbing to the notion that ‘I will never experience another first’ and that ‘my son will grow up alone’. There’s something even more toxic about that stress and emotion, which is so hard to articulate.

2 years after hitting my rock bottom, I sit in awe of my family.  I gaze into my son’s eyes and focus on taking him all in.  Enjoying every minute, including the tantrums, the witty outbursts, and every single belly-giggle.  

I look at my husband, and so grateful he chose me.  Grateful that he battled through this war with me and didn’t allow me to give up – give up on us.  If I could share anything with anyone going through this pain and uncertainty, is that it’s a moment in time and an isolated chapter in your story.  I beg you to not lose sight of today and miss out on the firsts you’re surrounded by.  I may have missed out on being able to experience another late night feeding, diaper change, or first steps, but I can assure you that I will never ever take another Mason-first for granted again…. like his first wiggly tooth! 

Lucky #17

Taking a pause today in my journey and fast-forwarding 6 years to present day.

This past weekend, in the midst of being isolated now for 4 weeks and counting, something really special happened.

As I’ve mentioned before, my husband and I come from fairly large families… we have a total combined of 17 nieces and nephews!  So you can imagine the amount of pregnancy announcements we’ve lived through.

I am absolutely in love with each and every one of my nieces and nephews… they each have something special that make our entire family complete. They are loud, funny, sarcastic, and full of energy. Being Italian, we bring family gatherings to a whole new level and the noise is always about 10 octaves higher than it should be… little kids running all over the place… while the older ones sit there making silly faces on their smartphones for what they think are cute snapchat ops.
You know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Facing infertility hasn’t always been easy in a large family… with each birthday…. each milestone… each holiday…. as much as I love it… somehow stirred up a heightened level of emotions, which tends to result in falling into a pool of tears and self-pity.

On March 7^th…. my sister gave birth to my precious nephew – Lucas. This past weekend my husband and I were asked to be Lucas’ God Parents through Zoom. Despite me being unable to hold him and smother him with kisses, I am absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude, honour and joy.

Many people will debate whether or not to ask an infertile couple to be God Parents, wondering how they’d react.  How will it be taken? Will it offend them? Will this hurt them?  It’s the typical unknowingness that those on the outside will never seem to understand, or better yet, even ask about?  It’s the assumption one makes with the feeling of having to tip-toe around someone who is extremely fragile. It’s our own fault that we make people feel this way.

Now, I’m not going to speak on behalf of all my IVF sisters, but what I am about to share, is something that I’ve never ever said out loud and what being asked means to me.  As I write this sentence, the tears are already starting to form and roll down my cheeks.

Being asked to be a God Parent actually means more than anything anyone can even fathom! The void of being able to conceive naturally has had a huge impact on my life, my mental and emotional state amongst anything else. I long to have children and grasp at any opportunity to be recognized in some shape or form to motherhood. While, some feel like choosing God Parents is a simple formality and go through the motions absentmindedly, I take the decision process very personally. Emotionally, I feel that if my loved ones truly understood my void and ‘cared’ about the impact infertility has had on my life, they would see this as an opportunity to help me in the only way they knew how… they would see me as someone who longed to have children, be a mother (and a damn good one for that matter), and genuinely relish in the opportunity to help give me the ‘next best’ honour.

OK… so I’m fully aware that the last paragraph was ‘way out there’ and strongly irrational. But something I’ve learned through countless therapy sessions, is that these are MY emotions, right or wrong… this is how I feel. I realize that to the most logical of people these feelings are completely far-fetched, but every time there’s a God Parent announcement, and I was overlooked, it has sent me on a downhill spiral (ironically more than the actual pregnancy announcement itself). It has been no one’s fault except my own personal demons that I battle. I’m utterly embarrassed exposing these feelings… and feel incredibly vulnerable because I don’t want people to think how crazy I am for thinking this way, feel sorry for me, or ultimately make choices out of pity… this is simply about sharing/exposing one of my personal triggers.

Now… I have a 6 year old son and people may wonder why in the world I still have this void and longing.  Well, as I continue to share my journey to today in future blog posts, I will be sharing the huge impact that our battle with secondary infertility has had on my life, and how it’s hit me a hell of a lot worse.  The intent of this blog is to create awareness, but as I’ve mentioned before… it’s also about the ability to help me self-heal in the process. 

The tears continue to fall as I write this blog because I still feel by letting it out, these raw emotions haven’t really captured my true feelings on this subject.  I will continue to digest my emotions as this is probably the first phase in my healing. 

I am beyond grateful for my lucky #17 and the honour my sister and her husband have given me… it is truly the greatest gift anyone outside my immediate family has ever given me… and I will cherish this opportunity more than anything you can imagine.  

My one-and-only

As you may already be aware, my first IVF cycle was successful.  The odds were against us and our chances were slim – but here I am witnessing my one-and-only double pink line @ 10DP5DT.  I struggle finding the words to help explain how I felt in this moment.  However, if I had to find the right word it would be ‘disbelief’.  I was almost immune to that single-lined test, that I didn’t quite know how to react when I saw something different.  One would think I’d be jumping up and down… it’s the moment I was fighting so hard for, wasn’t it? 

The moment I got my first positive HPT, I quickly transitioned into a different panic mode, the panic of ‘I can’t let this go’… ‘it has to stick and stay’… because after all I’ve been through, to have this now not work and experience a loss, would just put me over the edge.  So, going back from the outside looking in, this clearly made everyone around me frustrated and feel like there was always ‘something’ to stress over.  I would hear over and over again ‘the stress isn’t good for the baby’, as if it was a choice to put something I fought so hard for in harm’s way.

I became obsessed and hid it from everyone (including my husband).  I would buy HPT’s in bulk.  I would take tests daily, sometimes even twice a day, to check and ensure I was still pregnant.  I never really experienced pregnancy symptoms, which played with my mind as well.  Wasn’t I supposed to be throwing up?  Wasn’t I supposed to feel sleepy?  Am I really pregnant?  Nothing but panic. 

I’d be lying if I told you the panic ever went away.  It’s like I almost convinced myself that I would never have a baby, and the fact that I was pregnant seemed unreal.  I became my own worst enemy.  I totally understand how from the outside, it seemed like a lose-lose to deal with me… and that I was so far gone that nothing seemed to please me or make me smile.  It wasn’t a choice.  I was so afraid of the health my mental state that I no longer felt like I had the control.  And that this was just the beginning of my downward spiral.