Guest Post by Maggie S, Footsteps for Family Building Walk Ambassador
We started off trying as most couples do. Nervous and excited. You are told your whole life to be careful to not get pregnant, so the assumption is that it will happen when you try. We had some fears as I had years of worsening endometriosis symptoms, but we went into it open minded. At the time I had a failed bunionectomy from 2 years prior that was on the back burner to get surgery to fix. Creating life felt more important.
Fast forward 7 months in, still no baby, and my foot was worse. My doctor and I decided surgery was best for the time being. My husband and I pursued some fertility testing in the meantime. That resulted in sub par results for the two of us and the start of fertility treatments (which I learned the treatments are also part of the diagnosis). We started with medicated cycles while I healed from surgery. When that didn’t work, we were recommended to move on with intrauterine insemination (IUI). As many people feel in this journey, we were determined and moved forward with IUIs. Around the same time I learned I needed to go back into surgery as my foot wasn’t healing. So I spent my summer trying to do things that brought me joy while on crutches, while also taking Clomid and doing IUIs. Quite the memories there! As the weeks passed it was hard not to feel anger and resentment.
People participating in the world were not the enemy, but it was sometimes hard to tell the difference.
The summer came and went, and all three IUIs failed. The recommendation was in vitro fertilization (IVF). Still not being able to walk, I was determined. I swear people going through fertility treatments are the most motivated people I have ever met! We did our first IVF retrieval at the end of September. As many do, I thought that would be the end. We got a call 24 hours after our egg retrieval that none of our eggs fertilized, and we had the option to spend thousands of dollars out of pocket for rescue Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection (ICSI), with projected low success rates. I remember that day so clearly. It felt like the world crashed beneath me. We made the decision in a haze to move forward with rescue ICSI. The next few days were nauseating. I went to a wedding the day before we were to find out our results, and I felt numb. I was watching the world go by, and none of the people around us knew the stakes. My life was on hold, and everyone else’s was moving. I was fighting because it was the most I could do to change that. But I was tired.
Somehow, one embryo survived. We named it Goop. We spoke to our fertility doctor and all agreed it was best to move forward with another retrieval. At this rate we wanted to use age on our side and try a new treatment to get additional embryos. We planned that for January.
The next few months were a blur – wound vacs, multiple doctor visits a week, physical therapy, our family dog dying – I felt like the world was out to get me. It was so much to carry the sadness other people had of my predicament let alone my own. The holidays were a mess, and I didn’t want to be a part of anything. Joy brought me darker it seemed. I needed to be alone.
January came, and we did retrieval number two. I had run out of hope at this time but was still willing to fight. The tasks, procedures, and office visits had become my new normal. I felt tied to them. They became my identity. Science is pretty cool, and this retrieval two resulted in three embryos after physiological ICSI. We needed to do a frozen transfer, so while waiting for that, my husband and I took a trip to Puerto Rico (not because vacations get you pregnant, but because we needed one!).
Our transfer was scheduled for leap day. That felt like the most hope I had in months. It had to work on a leap day! It’s funny the things that can give you more hope. We went in that day and transferred an embryo that was soon to be our daughter Charlie. I had so many symptoms quickly and took a test 7 days after. I fell to the floor when I saw the lines. I think after so many negative tests you wonder if the line even exists. We thought we lost the pregnancy leading up to our ultrasound as I was bleeding and my HCG stopped rising as much. I hated those few weeks. Went right back to no hope. In minutes it was stripped from me. I closed my eyes at the ultrasound thinking I would see the inevitable and instead there was a heartbeat. Again, a feeling you cannot describe.
Everyone told me it was too much to try to get pregnant while in my surgeries and trying to navigate my CRPS diagnosis. Charlie is what ended up saving me. Once pregnant my nervous system seemed to reset itself, and my wound healed after a year of being open. Life has a funny way of proving people wrong sometimes.
Transitioning to motherhood has been hard. I’m fiercely protective of Charlie and miss the safety of her living inside of me. I’m sure that will change with time, but it’s my reality right now. People seem to forget the sadness and pain the minute you get pregnant. But you don’t. I will always remember the fear of simple things. Like buying a double stroller. You want to have hope but know what it feels like to exist without it.
I feel life more and recognize the importance of living in the present and using our short time wisely. My relationships are all different, whether good or bad. The concept of returning to my old self feels so foreign. I need to accept this new version of me. I feel forced into this practice but know it will serve me. Some days I miss the grief of infertility. I’ve never felt more awake and aware of the workings of the world. It’s like a plane between the creation of life and death. It can be hard to know where I belong at times.
There is something so beautiful about people going through fertility treatments that I actually miss. A group of people who are working so damn hard toward something they might never get to accomplish. Where can you ever get to experience that? Determination for love. It’s beautiful really.
Footsteps for Family Building is a celebration of people like this. I feel lucky to know these people. I walk to support and to normalize. I walk to sit in the darkness or celebrate the wins. I walk to advocate. I walk because community is everything.