A Quest to Conceive – My Journey through Unexplained infertility

The story begins with a streak of perfect red on the inside of the toilet bowl, the first thing in the morning. It’s as if an artist had used a paintbrush and swabbed the most vibrant crimson. We could start our story three years ago, when we first had unprotected sexual contact in the hope that it would result in two pink lines appearing on a pregnancy screen. We could have started the year prior to that, when we were married. Or two years earlier, when we went to couples counseling to determine if we should marry, since one of us knew for sure that she wanted children, and the other wasn’t so sure. It could have started when I was born. Everything since then seems to be leading up this chapter.

The day I saw two pink lines, or six pink lines across three pregnancy tests and one bold “Pregnant,” on a digital pregnancy test, I couldn’t help but laugh. It’s possible that uncontrollable laughing is the way I deal with joy. (It was the same reaction I had when my husband proposed to me.) But I will always remember sitting in the bathroom and laughing out loud at the sight. It’s the sight that many would-be parents pray for for months and years, wondering if they will ever see it. It’s a sight other people in other bathroom pray not to see.

It had been an entire year spent testing “the old-fashioned way”–my sperm, his, my fallopian tube, and my hormones. This year included also reading books, drinking tea, wearing bracelets, going to the acupuncture and tracking my cycle multiple ways. It was finally time to consult a fertility specialist, and start taking more proactive measures. I was nervous and excited as I ate the Letrozole tablets in preparation for intrauterine insemination. We tried the traditional method of getting pregnant for years, but it didn’t work for us.

Causes of infertility for women and men

My husband and I were in Denver for the weekend to see a performance. I felt it was a fun secret to take those pills in the middle of the night at my hotel. Jamie was performing his first headline show at Red Rocks. This is a venue that many musicians dream of playing. We joked it was “take your spouse to work weekend.” I was thrilled to have been there to see this milestone in his career. And humming behind it all, was the knowledge that my wife and I were taking steps to become parents. As I watched the show, I was beaming with pride but became increasingly distracted by a ache in my stomach. The sensation was similar to bad period cramps and worsened through the night. By the time we reached the hotel I admitted I needed to lie down.

It was uncomfortable to walk in the airport or sit on an airplane seat. I had an ultrasound appointment the following day with my fertility specialist to determine if it was time for me to do the IUI and take the trigger shot. The ultrasound revealed that I was not ready for the IUI as I was experiencing pain from a ruptured cyst. We could not perform the IUI that month and would also have to wait a full cycle to ensure the cyst was fully resolved.

We waited for a month and a quarter, but we finally were ready to start again. This time I took Letrozole and no cysts appeared. On a Saturday in November I started the coffee, warmed the car and waited for my husband to ejaculate into a cup while I prepared the coffee. The doctor has an hour to examine the cup after it is filled. We were able to make it downtown in that time, but we still hurried. We went to breakfast after dropping it off and waited. The whole experience was a little romantic and giddy. There was a lot of laughter and a certain amount of elation. We drove another 30 minutes across town, to the fertility clinic and inserted the “specimen” complete with the strongest swimmers. Quick, painless, voila.

Infertility was the hardest thing for my marriage, but it actually made it stronger

When it didn’t happen, I reminded myself it doesn’t usually work on the first attempt and I set my sights for round two. When the next month arrived, I followed the same steps. However, when it came time to have the swimmers do their bidding for them, there was something wrong. The doctor stopped the procedure mid-way and asked us to move into a different room while she continued her work.

Do you see me? She would ask the nurse.

“No.”

Do you see me?

It was like an twisted Verizon commercial. While I held my husband’s hands and used my yoga and mediation techniques to breathe, I felt deeply uncomfortable. After 40 minutes, the doctor finally said “I’m not going to torture you anymore.” The nurse was unable to see her. I’ve done all the tricks that are in my book.”

She said that the catheter was unable to pass my cervix, something she had never experienced in her 30 years of experience.

We learned from that painful but informative IUI that my cervix was blocked. After a couple of weeks, I was lying on an operating table receiving a cocktail of anesthesia, being sent to dreamland, and the doctor inserted a Foley ball to dilate my cervical cervix. Later, I joked with friends that we only needed a birthday party cake since we had already purchased balloons and video cameras.

It took time for the healing to occur. We were then sent back to square one to start the process the old-fashioned manner. The new beginning was like erasing the years of discouragement from trying to get pregnant. It was as if a physical obstacle had been removed.

It was difficult to take the first negative test after the procedure, because I had thought that cervical dilation would be our lucky charm. It’s not unusual for a woman trying to conceive to be disappointed. Second cycle, nothing. The third cycle…well…cut to me hysterically laughing on the bathroom floor, staring at six pink lines with the miraculous “PREGNANT.”

It was a beautiful and brief pregnancy. I now look back on those days as if they were filled with light. Yes, I felt exhausted. I felt nauseous. I sometimes truly felt like shit. I felt like shit.

When I saw the bright red streak on Monday morning as I was flushing my morning pee, panic set in. Although I knew that bleeding is normal during pregnancy, my head and heart were racing. She was calm and sympathetic as I explained my experience over the phone. She scheduled me for that morning.

By 11 a.m. Jamie was sitting at my feet, and the ultrasound technician said softly, “I am so sorry.” I don’t think there is a heartbeat in the room today.

Can it return? “Can it come back?” I replied. It couldn’t.

The baby measured nine weeks. This meant that (we learned later he was boy) stopped growing about two weeks prior. Jamie grabbed me in a huge hug, where he held my body for a very long time. She also handed me some tissues.

I can see all of these frozen frames in my head. Jamie and I were huddled on the loveseat of the room. Heather’s eyes were kind as she guided me through the next steps.

“I know it happens all the time,” I sobbed, “but I didn’t expect to be one of them.” She gently explained that, while it’s a common problem with fertility, every situation is different and doesn’t mean it is any less painful. She may have to do this regularly, but it made me feel special and valued.

How It Feels to Experience a Miscarriage

Kristen Wiig’s laughter was a welcome relief (that bridal store scene!). The tears continued to flow as I texted a few of my friends who had experienced miscarriages for advice about what to do–let the pregnancy happen naturally, use medicine or perform a D&C. (In the end, I needed to do all three but that’s another story). Since that day, tears have become a part of my daily routine, and a surprise whenever I think the baby might have decided to take some time off.

There is no neat ending to this story, despite the fact that I was unsure of where to begin. I felt the privilege and joy of being a pregnant mother. It’s not true that we all grow up believing this. It is not my responsibility to understand why my child couldn’t remain, or to predict what will happen next.

The phrase “fertility trip” is not my favorite. It’s possible I have heard the phrase “fertility journey” too often and that it has an implied subtext of “you poor dear.” I like “conception quest.” It sounds like a hero’s quest. Paul McCartney said it best: “The long and winding path that leads to your front door.”

Now, grief has joined my journey and will stay. Healing has also come. Always, there is hope. They are with me, as I take one step forward at a time into the unknown.