We Were Pregnant

This post may be triggering for those who are experiencing or have experienced infertility and / or pregnancy loss. Please read with that in mind and know that if you are struggling, you are not alone.

We were pregnant…and now we are not. It’s a lot to take in, on many levels, and there is a lot that Christian and I are still processing. In the past few months we have experienced a range of emotions I never thought possible – surprise, disbelief, elation, joy, anxiety, fear, sadness, heartache, depression and grief. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least. And, while it isn’t easy to talk about and relive the hard stuff, I always knew that no matter what happened I would ultimately share our experience here. 

In the age of social media, we all post our highlights. Often that’s the good stuff, the magical moments and the happy endings. To be clear, those are all things that are worth sharing. I share them too! But for me, when it comes to fertility and infertility, I’ve found it really hard to be in the thick of the struggle and only see, hear and feel the good stuff. It can be so damn lonely, especially when you’re still waiting for your happy ending.

I’ve shared a lot about our fertility journey on Instagram and in stories (I have a highlight), but I’ve yet to write a lot about it on the blog, with the exception of this post and this post. So, before I tell you about the past few months, I’m going to rewind a bit and start from the beginning.

OUR FERTILITY JOURNEY

The only period I ever had was when I was 14, but since my cycles were irregular (understatement of the century) and I was so unhappy with my skin, I went on the birth control pill to “help” both problems. If I knew then what I knew now, I probably would have made different choices but alas, I did not, and here we are.

Fast forward to 2014 and I’d been on a journey to heal some persistent issues with my skin, gut and mental health. The pill was my last bandaid. By the time we got married in October 2015, I had been on the pill for 14 years (!!!!). And, while we knew we wanted to start a family, we also decided to wait a year to do it and enjoy the first year of marriage just the two of us. That is something I do not regret – it was a critical time in our lives and our marriage. But, come December 2016 we stuck to our plan and I ultimately decided to go off the pill for good.

One month later, I didn’t get a period. Another month passed, and then another…nothing. As someone who runs anxious, I had considered this scenario – worst case scenarios are my specialty. And yet, experiencing it first hand, month after month, was so much worse than I imagined. Every month that passed was stressful, agonizing and another reminder that something was wrong with me. 

After 3 months, I was worried. After 6 months, I decided to call a fertility specialist. Most reproductive endocrinologists won’t see you until you’ve been “trying to conceive without success for a year” but since we couldn’t even try I begged, pleaded and pushed to get an appointment and didn’t stop until one was booked. At this point, I certainly didn’t feel like I knew a lot about my body or reproductive health but I knew enough to know that something was very off. I also quickly learned that when it comes to fertility issues I had to advocate for myself because no one else was going to it for me. Also, if you ever find yourself in this position, call sooner rather than later – specialists are widely sought after and it may be months before you can even see a doctor.

Ultimately I was diagnosed with a combination of lean Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and Hypothalamic Amenorrhea (HA), which was incredibly confusing. A simple google search of each finds them somewhat at odds with each other in terms of cause and treatment. I am not a typical case of PCOS – I have cysts on my ovaries, an absence of periods and acne but none of the other typical manifestations. HA is related to the brain, and is a condition where the hypothalamus alters the signaling to the brain to regulate the menstrual cycle. I don’t have a lot of those typical symptoms or causes either, but it was assumed that mine was the result of significant stress. 

I’ll be honest, being diagnosed with fertility issues in the first place was really hard for me. I always considered myself to be pretty healthy – I’ve been in therapy most of my life, nourish my body with healing foods, move an okay amount but never excessively, and, overall, felt pretty balanced. Sure I was a bit of a stress case, but isn’t everyone? Don’t answer that 😉 As a result, my diagnosis left me with a lot of shame around my body. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I do this thing that my body was literally created to do? Was I less of a person? Less of a woman? And, after years of pretty much resenting my “period” (which I also learned isn’t really what the pill makes your body do) and thinking – no, fearing – that I would get pregnant if I wasn’t extremely careful…my world felt completely upside down. Those things I always resented and feared were now the only things I wanted, and I felt hopeless and completely out of control.

WHAT WE TRIED

I want to start by saying that this is our experience and while I will attempt to share our process as best I can, treatments are so individual. And, as someone who wants to know the reasoning behind everything, I’ve found infertility to be pretty frustrating. I love our doctors but my general sense is that infertility is less about why something is happening and more about getting you pregnant. Since there are only so many treatments to work with, doctors do the best they can and hope one of them sticks. I find this part incredibly frustrating. My best advice is to find a combination of providers and treatment protocols that feel best for you. This process is daunting, it is stressful, it is exhausting and there is no right way to go about it. The right way is the way that feels right for you.

That being said, while I am very holistically minded and had been working with alternative doctors for a few years at this point for other issues, when it came to my reproductive health we decided to go a more conventional route and supplement with things like acupuncture and, ultimately, switching to safer products in our home and on our bodies (more on that here). 

Since I didn’t ovulate or menstruate at all, everything had to be simulated. The CliffsNotes: I took progesterone to start a bleed – twice – and both failed. I took estrogen to prime my system and then took Letrozole to induce ovulation. The first round, in 2017, my body didn’t respond to the drug and due to significant life stressors we decided to halt treatments. We started up again in 2019 and did three more rounds of Letrozole, ultimately adding a trigger shot to release my egg (ovulation), and an IUI (intrauterine insemination, basically the “turkey baster” approach) to attempt fertilization. This approach failed three times. I then took Metformin for 6 months, which can help manage insulin resistance (common in PCOS but hard to conclusively diagnose) and encourage ovulation, but it did nothing. In early 2020 we started Letrozole again, but my body didn’t respond. The doctor said we could increase my dose but the meds are brutal and mentally, I simply couldn’t continue. So we took a break, which I talked about here.

2020 AND NEW BEGINNINGS

Thankfully, we let 2020 just be. There was enough on our plates living on one income and navigating a global pandemic that adding something like fertility treatments was just not something we were prepared to do or, frankly, could afford. So we navigated the rest of it in the best way we could and embraced our little family within the confines of our 500 square foot apartment. The year brought lots of changes for us, ultimately taking us out of the city so we could save money for future IVF treatments and keep our sanity, an option we are so grateful to have.

And then something completely unexpected happened. In the middle of November, my nipples started to hurt. Odd, I thought, but then after a week or so they stopped and I kind of forgot about it. Two weeks later, after a long walk with a friend, I got my period. My immediate thought was that it must be a mistake. But after 5 days of a very normal, almost textbook cycle…I realized it was the real deal. My mind was blown! We did some celebratory dances and sort of went on with life as we knew it. I had an app to track my period but assumed since everything was super irregular it would just continue to be so. We had sex as normal, hoping that something might stick but not really getting our hopes up.

December came around and my cycle didn’t come back, which was a bummer but expected. And then, my nipples started hurting again. Excellent, I thought to myself, my cycle is returning! But in a weird twist of events… they kept hurting. And then my boobs started hurting…and growing. And after two weeks of this, I was like okay something is different. I attempted to take a pregnancy test but was impatient, completely messed it up…and it said negative. Two days later, my symptoms were worse and I decided to follow the directions to a T. I left the test in the bathroom and when I went back I looked down:

YES+

I almost dropped it on the floor. I took another.

YES+

I screamed. C screamed. We screamed. Honestly we couldn’t believe it. I peed on a zillion more tests, all of which said PREGNANT. Since we are in NJ I called my Mother-in-Law’s OBGYN and he said based on my last period I could be around 7 weeks, but since my periods were so irregular it was hard to say. Typically OBGYNs don’t see you until you’re around 8-10 weeks but he said if I wanted to come in for an ultrasound I could. Since I really wanted to see it to believe it I made an appointment for the following week and spent the next 8 days in complete shock. 

I have to say, a lot of my emotions during that time were really challenging to process. After spending so many years being upset and frustrated with my body, I wasn’t really sure what to think. I had always viewed my body as this separate entity that was constantly letting me down, instead of as a part of me, one in the same. And as much as I wanted to figure out or explain how I got to where I was, I couldn’t. I wasn’t eating the best, I was drinking more alcohol than usual, I didn’t have a great routine… none of it really made sense. And yet, there I was…pregnant. What a freakin’ trip.

I went from feeling positively elated to feeling terrified. One minute I was like OMG I AM PREGNANT and the next I was like OMG HOW AM I GOING TO STAY PREGNANT? I noticed every little change and every symptom – all of which were new to me since I hadn’t experienced a period in years let alone a pregnancy. I didn’t know how to trust myself or my body. I was so afraid. Afraid to move, afraid to do the wrong thing, afraid to mess up this perfectly perfect scenario I had always dreamed of. I was terrified everything was a miscarriage. Thankfully, whenever I was feeling totally overwhelmed I would call the doctor, he would reassure me, and I would feel better. We did that song and dance for days.

THE APPOINTMENT

This past week was my first appointment, and it was, without a doubt, one of the most traumatic experiences I’ve had. If you’re going through any sort of medical experience during COVID – my heart goes out to you. It’s also worth saying that I’m big on expectations. When I have them, and they aren’t met, I very easily lose my shit. I always imagined I would go to this first appointment with C, we would see the doctor, watch the screen and walk away with cute little photos like I see all over the internet. 

Much to my disappointment, C could not come with me and had to wait in the car, which I thankfully knew in advance. But then, once I got in the room I realized that the person I was seeing was not my doctor, it was a tech. I also wasn’t allowed to call Christian and I couldn’t see the screen. I was alone, sitting there in a dark room, and no one was talking to me, explaining what was being done or what the results were. Finally I asked if I could see the screen and she said no, that she would send the results to the doctor who would call me in 1-2 days. I was supposed to be there to see the heartbeat and in my own heart of hearts I knew that if there was one she would have shown it to me. So I lost it. I started sobbing and finally she said she really wasn’t supposed to tell me anything but she didn’t want me to be upset and it probably was just way earlier than I thought. She couldn’t see anything yet but in a couple weeks I could come back and see the baby.

In theory, she could have been right. There was no way of knowing when I had ovulated (I wasn’t tracking) or conceived because I had only had one cycle (the second in my life). So immediately after my appointment I called the office to have the doctor call me. I wanted those results ASAP and knew if I didn’t ask for them, I wasn’t going to get them as fast as I wanted. The doctor called a few hours later and said that either I was earlier along in the pregnancy than we thought or I was experiencing a miscarriage. The only way to tell would be with bloodwork and time. So I immediately went back to get my blood taken (and was super annoyed because I felt they should have done a more comprehensive intake to begin with) and asked them to test my thyroid while they were at it (I have a wonky thyroid from viral thyroiditis a few years ago, which can impact pregnancy). They said I’d get my results the following afternoon.

I spent that day in a complete fog. I just knew something wasn’t right. I had nothing to compare the experience to and can’t explain why I felt so certain but I just did. Obviously a part of me hoped I was wrong, and that my anxiety was simply getting the best of me. But I pretty much curled up on the couch, answered my work emails as necessary and forced Bruce to snuggle with me. I journaled voraciously, read Morgan Harper Nichols, and cried a lot.

The next day, I woke up and decided if I didn’t stay active I was going to positively lose it. So I conquered about 15 things on my to do list and when I hadn’t heard from the doctor by 4pm I called and asked the doctor to call me (again, advocate). 

He did. And he told me that my HCG levels were incredibly low (in the fifties, instead of in the thousands) and while there was a slight 2% chance I was way earlier than we thought, I was most likely experiencing a miscarriage. He recommended I come back on Monday to get my blood taken again. When I hung up the phone, I lost it completely. It wasn’t necessarily that it was happening, although that was frustrating, but the nebulous 2% really bothered me. I’m not good with unknowns. I just wanted a conclusive answer and hoped I wouldn’t have to wait until Monday to get it.

THE “M WORD”

This sounds odd to say, but my body pulled through for me and on Friday I knew I would have my answer. Although I wish this was not the case, I have several friends who have experienced losses and told me in so many words what to expect. I’m sharing this because maybe someone out there doesn’t have those resources. Because this is an incredibly normal but difficult process that so many women experience. Because if we don’t talk about miscarriages then no matter how common they are we will always feel alone.

That being said, no one can really prepare you for an experience like this. For me, first the cramps started and then came the bleeding. It’s like period pain x 1,000,000. One friend told me it feels pretty similar to contractions before giving birth, which I have never experienced but now feel slightly prepared for. It hurts. A lot. There’s a stabbing knifelike pain from the inside out but also a feeling that you’re being twisted into knots. I had to lie down, with a heating pad, in a ball. I threw up. I cried. It was awful. I couldn’t eat or sleep that night, and the cramps woke me up again the next morning. But they were more tolerable, and overall all it was more manageable. Tylenol (NOT Advil), water, CBD cream and a heating pad have been essential. So has my darling partner who never leaves my side and insists that I am the strongest person he knows. 

HOW I’M FEELING

I am sad, but honestly, I am also amazed. I had no idea a natural pregnancy was in the cards for us, so I was still processing that when we started to lose it. And while this is not the outcome I had hoped for, I am honestly in awe of my body. The experiences I went through with my body while I was pregnant were so apparent and amazing that every day I woke up and had to pinch myself. That being said, it feels the same with the miscarriage. My body knows what it is doing – I can feel it. I didn’t have to tell it what to do or do anything at all, it is quite literally taking care of everything all by itself.

One in four early pregnancies result in a loss, a pretty significant number. And I am confident that something just was not quite right with this one. Before I had fertility issues I never really appreciated what actually has to happen to result in a baby being born. Truly, a zillion things have to go right for a pregnancy to happen and stick and, as much as I don’t like to admit it, a lot of that is out of my control. And there is a lot I will never know about this experience and why it happened.

So, while I am an emotional person, I’m experiencing this loss from a more pragmatic and scientific place. I certainly have had days where I’ve felt emotional and have honored that – I love feelings and have let myself feel all of the feels. Every day is different. Generally though, I feel like I lost a pregnancy but I don’t feel like I lost a baby. Maybe it’s because I never saw it or heard the heartbeat. Maybe it’s because I’ve been through fertility struggles, disappointment and grief before. I’m not really sure. All I know is that for me, that makes the most sense and I find zero comfort in the alternative. I know that is not the case for everyone, and there is certainly no right way or one way to feel or process an experience like this. All I can do is share my own experience and encourage us all to release any shame and blame that inevitably comes with the miscarriage process and the feelings that follow. While I am sad that I am no longer pregnant, there is not much I can do about what has already happened. There is, though, a tremendous amount of healing that comes from finding peace with and in the present, so that’s what I’m trying to focus on right now.

I cannot speak for C, but I will say that he has been the brightest light throughout all of this. He was just as surprised as I was about the pregnancy so in that sense, he’s still processing that and the loss, too. He’s a really positive dude and has been my biggest cheerleader. He’s constantly telling me how strong I am and is taking the week to work from home so he can support me in all of the ways. 

WHAT NOW?

I’m still in the midst of the miscarriage process, so we are trying to take it easy and soak in the slowness that we’ve been forced into. I’m reading a lot, watching dumb shows on TV and snuggling with my boys. C takes a lot of naps. I’m also looking into how we can heal with food, how I can boost my egg quality and create a healthy environment for another pregnancy. We’re doing a dry January, and I’m learning more about eating beans to support my hormones. I’m also hoping to get back into my morning movement routine with Melissa Wood Health and walks to help with my anxiety and because I do not want to feel paralyzed and fragile again. I can’t control a everything but I can control some things and that’s what I hope to do without being obsessive about it. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that chilling out a little bit certainly doesn’t hurt.

Most of the time I am incredibly hopeful – if it happened once, it can happen again…right? But I certainly have days where I am consumed by fear. I worry that this was my one shot and that it will never happen again (that worst case scenario thinking def has its downsides). I plan to make a follow up appointment with our reproductive endocrinologist to get her in the loop, get my hormones checked and see how my ovaries are doing. I’ll also keep processing this all in therapy, with C and our support system. We’ve told our close family and friends because this is our reality, and we need all the support we can get right now.

I am so grateful for each and every person who has lifted me up, listened to me, nurtured me and simply said “I am creating space for you”. The reality is, no one can fix this – even me. There is no right thing to say. But just knowing that someone is there makes all the difference. So to my people – I love you. You know who you are.

So that’s the scoop. If you made it this far – thank you. Writing is very cathartic for me, and writing this out has certainly been a part of my healing process. Lastly, if you can relate to any part of my journey, whether you’ve struggled with fertility, infertiity or experienced a loss or whether you know and love someone who has, I am here for you. Know that you are not alone and that, no matter how difficult it is to see right now, we will all have our happy endings.