Is there a word worse than infertile? Wait, don't answer that - I know there are worse diagnoses, but in the midst of TTC, "infertile" might be the worst thing you can hear. My husband and I started our infertility journey unexpectedly just over a year ago when I was diagnosed with premature ovarian failure (again with the terminology - failure? Couldn't they have at least come up with a kinder term?).
I thought the diagnosis was the worst thing that could happen to us, but I had no idea. But I'll get to that.
I know from trolling fertility blogs that sharing stats can be helpful for offering context to others, my AMH level was (is) so low that it is undetectable (<0.15) at age 32. My initial day 3 FSH in April 2013 came back at 17.3. I saw 3 REs (including a doctor at CCRM) before settling at a different clinic. After a failed IUI round in June 2013, I received the best news of my entire life on Friday, August 2nd when I had a positive pregnancy test. We had spontaneously conceived!
The first 20 weeks of the pregnancy we were worried that something would be wrong given my poor egg quality from the DOR. Everything was going swimmingly until 25 weeks when I developed what I thought was horrible sciatica. After an emergency visit to my doctor and several after hours calls because my back and leg pain was so bad, I finally went to the ER on 12/28/13 only to discover that I had an extensive blood clot (from my toe to my inferior vena cava) in the form of a DVT. At first our baby, L, was just fine... but the next morning after a harrowing fifteen minutes of rushing to the OR for an emergency c-section (while on heavy doses of blood thinners making the procedure very dangerous), we lost our little girl. I'll spare you the details about the next ten days in the hospital other than to say that I lived (obviously) and that now a future pregnancy is much riskier giving my history of clotting.
The last four months have been a total blur. I couldn't really tell you what we've been up to. I get up and get dressed and go to work and try to act like a normal human being but I couldn't feel less like myself or be more sad. Not only did we lose our daughter, but I fear that we have lost our dream of having a biological child. But mostly I just think (constantly) about my little girl, L.
That said, we are moving forward. We are back to RE visits and are prepping for IVF in late May. I feel like I've exhausted my family and friends in their ability to hear about doctor's visits, hormone injections, etc. and so I need another outlet for my feelings, ramblings, and research.
So here I am.