My Fertility Journey: Lucky Number Seven!
The views and opinions expressed are those of the authors and should not be considered medical advice. Always consult your doctor for the most appropriate treatment
Our path to parenthood was anything but ordinary. Sasha and I embarked on a rollercoaster ride filled with hope, heartache, and ultimately triumph. What began as a dream of starting a family turned into a seven-year odyssey, testing our resilience, and challenging us in ways we never imagined.
Our journey began with excitement and anticipation, but soon turned into a battle against secondary unexplained infertility. It felt like we were stuck on a never-ending conveyor belt, facing one hurdle after another. Despite our initial optimism, we found ourselves grappling with the harsh reality of dashed hopes and bitter disappointments.
We became one of the lucky ones when we welcomed our firstborn, Jasper, through reciprocal in vitro fertilization (IVF) in 2016, after only one transfer. Our joy knew no bounds. His arrival filled our hearts with happiness we never knew was missing. He was the perfect mixture of the two of us.
Fast forward two years later, we attempted to conceive through IUI, which ended in heartbreak, leaving us with a sense of desperation and uncertainty as we tried to expand our family. Undeterred, we dove back into the world of IVF, clinging to the hope of adding another member to our family, this time using the remaining embryo from Sasha’s egg retrieval that had resulted in our first son.
We were two years into our journey towards a family of four. It had been four years since our first son was born. I began testing to ensure my body was able to start our medicated protocol, and after a few months we were pregnant again. We found out it was a boy. This is where our story changes.
I was 9 weeks pregnant, with our second son, Joey James. My gut was screaming that something was wrong. Sasha and I walked into our nine-week appointment and were met with the words every parent fears: “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat.” I exploded into tears. The following two weeks were met with blood work, ultrasounds and ultimately the home delivery and cremation of our second baby. We spent the next few months mourning. I was angry at my body. I was confused, I was scared, I was depressed, and I wanted answers.
We refused to give up. With each setback, we found the strength to pick ourselves up and keep moving forward. 2021 came and we made the decision to begin again. We opted for me to do an egg retrieval, using donor sperm and my uterus. But first a hysteroscopy and a slew of blood work, all of which came back normal.
We refused to give up. With each setback, we found the strength to pick ourselves up and keep moving forward.
We got nine embryos from my retrieval—nine more chances towards our journey to a family of four. I began to prepare for the transfer—shot after shot, medication after medication, blood draw after blood draw, all for two transfers that resulted in “not pregnant.” IVF doesn’t guarantee you a baby. We decided to switch fertility specialists.
“Let’s try it!” were the refreshing words our new doctor said. We did a transfer on a new protocol, and were met with a new result: pregnant! But just as fast as we saw those two pink lines, we also saw them fade away. This is where we would learn about chemical pregnancies.
I did genetic and autoimmune testing, and worked with an endocrinologist for weight loss. We were now onto embryo 4 of 9. That resulted in pregnancy, again. And as quick as those pink lines showed up, they were gone once again. Round 5 happened and we found a mutation in new testing that added a new medication to our protocol. That resulted in positive results, again, but lost again in a chemical pregnancy. We decided to try and run a mock cycle which was ultimately canceled due to lack of insurance coverage.
Amidst the trials and tribulations, we found solace in each other’s love and unwavering support. Together, we weathered the storm, leaning on one another for strength and encouragement. We agreed to give another embryo a chance, thinking that with the time I had put into weight loss, and the time my body had taken off of the medication, maybe we would be successful, and we could share good news at the end of the year. This time we transferred two. Unfortunately, those also resulted in a chemical pregnancy. Losing two at once hit harder than the others. My wife and I decided to take some time away from trying to conceive.
My heart knew I wasn’t done. In a moment of simplicity and serendipity, we opted for an at-home insemination. Stripping away the complexities of treatment, we placed our trust in love and the power of our own bodies. I had grown tired of the constant feeling that my body was failing me. I felt selfish for the debt we were accruing as we attempted to add to our family. But I knew our time was coming.
I decided to track my cycle in December of 2022 and in January of 2023 I was pregnant. I called my fertility clinic to say, “I would like to cancel our consultation and request instead if I could come in for a pregnancy blood test.” My fertility nurse was both confused and amazed when she called to tell me my pregnancy levels were positive. With held breath, I remember watching our doctor come into the room to perform the ultrasound, verifying a pregnancy in a healthy location, with healthy measurements and a heartbeat. “You did it! You both did this! Thank you, because I was honestly running out of ideas on how to help you both,” our physician said.
As we embrace our roles as parents of two beautiful boys, we look back on our journey with gratitude and awe. Our story is a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope. And though our path may have been filled with twists and turns, we wouldn’t change a single moment, for it has led us to where we are today—a family bound together by love, resilience, and unwavering faith. Remember that this is your journey, and you get to dictate what feels right for you.
