Rebecca

I am infertile. Most people don’t expect it, but I did…I always had a feeling that I would never be pregnant. When I came off the birth control pill, and had very short cycles, my thoughts were validated. They were further validated when I began charting my temperature and my charting showed I ovulated on Day 2 or 3. The first referral I got was to a gynecologist, who assured me that this “wasn’t possible.” They were wrong. It was.

Over a three year period, I went to two fertility clinics, and was told I fit into the “unexplained” category of infertility.

I went to a third fertility clinic, and had my AMH level checked for the first time. Things finally made sense. I found out I had premature ovarian faliure. Basically, my ovaries were shutting down–AKA–early menopause. I was 31. I didn’t have a lot of eggs remaining, and the ones that were there, were not of “good quality”.

Around the same time, with Assistive Reproductive Technology (A.R.T.), we got pregnant. Then, I miscarried. A problem with the placenta—can you imagine?!?! The baby was fine, the placenta was not.

Years pass. Four more years. Now a total of seven years Trying To Conceive (T.T.C.).

I now need egg donation in order to achieve pregnancy.

My sister graciously agreed to donate her eggs (Side note: I am so glad that both of my sisters do not have the same struggle). We became pregnant with twins. Amazing. Then, I develop a subchorionic hemorrhage. I silently hoped to lose only one baby, just not both. Please.

Wish not granted. I lose both babies. Another miscarriage.

Today, the struggle continues. A painful, thankless journey…unless of course you are one of the lucky ones, and you achieve your dream: the dream of a take-home baby.

This fall, marks eight years of T.T.C.

I would never wish infertility upon anyone.