Content warning for those experiencing infertility/loss: pregnancy is discussed in this newsletter.
Here’s the news: I am pregnant. More than half way through, in fact.
Maybe you are thinking: why would someone start a writing project to talk about infertility as they are pregnant? I have asked myself that same question. There is a very real reason and I wanted to talk about it a bit and share the story of how we got here after all this time.
First I want to say: I understand how triggering and disappointing it can be when you’re going through infertility to finally find a voice/person/resource that you can connect with, only to see them get pregnant and drift off into that seemingly contented world that seems so far away and impossible right now. I know that on some level it can even feel like a betrayal. For me, I usually had to mute/unfollow or distance myself from those people and I fully appreciate and understand if anyone who came here to connect over infertility needs to let me go. If you’ll stay with me I promise to keep your hearts in mind, and I hope you can still find some connection here. I still have a lot to say about it.
So… why talk about past infertility/loss as I’m pregnant? The answer is simple: because it doesn’t go away. On top of infertility just messing my whole life and sense of self up, it’s informing my pregnancy now, which isn’t easy. There’s a healthy dose of anxiety and endless worry that this isn’t actually real or that something may go wrong (once you’ve cracked into the infertility world you become painfully aware of every single devastating thing that can go wrong at any point in a pregnancy), but there’s also a complicated melange of lingering shame, lack of self worth, and proclivity towards isolation because it’s what I know. And because brains do a really good job of trying to protect us in their wacky ways: I haven’t stopped being triggered by pregnant women on the street, even though I am one now.
Another reason to keep talking about it: it needs to be talked about more. The stigma, shame and isolation surrounding infertility and loss (and many other health issues affecting people with uteruses) needs to go away. I don’t think someone should have to be “brave” and “outspoken” to talk about something that is so common and that we really need better education and support for. I think it should be normal. I bet you agree… and if you don’t, I’d ask that you seriously consider why you believe otherwise (hint: it could be the influence of our patriarchal healthcare system).
Now I’d like to tell you a little bit about how we got here. Skipping over the trying years of trying to conceive, and the years of so called “natural conception” treatments at the fertility clinic, we found ourselves giving IVF a whirl. Going into it, Gabe and I both felt that IVF wasn’t going to be a long term pursuit for us. There are a lot of reasons but at the heart of it is that we didn’t want to gamble massive amounts of money (that we don’t have), hope, and time on something that might not happen for us. I’ve heard IVF described as a “cruel lottery” which feels accurate to me. We figured we’d go for maybe two rounds max and whatever happened… we would move on. I was already physically and emotionally exhausted and we both wanted our lives back. I just felt… done. So, going into IVF I knew it was the beginning of the end which made it hard to be hopeful. When you’re so used to getting bad news it’s what you expect, so I approached it as “may as well give this one last shot.”
Luckily our one government funded treatment round came up. There were a lot of expensive daily injections of hormone meds, blood draws, transvaginal ultrasounds, you know: the usual. After a very successful egg retrieval the nurses called me an “egg superstar” because my ovaries made just soooo many damn eggs. Things seemed to be going good. I was totally nailing this IVF thing! On a snowy morning about a week later I got the lab report in my inbox that said all but 1 of my 29 retrieved eggs fertilized. ONE. And because we were sending this lonely blastocyst off for genetic testing, we knew there was a good chance that we would ultimately end up with ZERO viable embryos and this whole thing would be a total bust. As you can imagine; I was devastated.
The snow turned into a blizzard that day and as an attempt to take a break from my grief I decided to do some shovelling. It felt good to interrupt my crying and simply move my body in the crisp cool air, kept safe from the world of neighbours and strangers under a cloak of winter darkness at 5:00 in the evening. I took out my hurt and anger on the task, moving furiously through epic mountains of snow. Distracted by my rage-shovelling, I slipped on some hidden ice on a step and fell so hard on my ass that I let out a loud cry for help that wasn’t answered. I lay there motionless with some legit fears that I may have seriously injured myself. Collapsed in that mound of snow, waiting to see if it was bad enough that I might need an ambulance, I broke down and wildly sobbed out of physical and heart wrenching pain.
I got a full cheek multi-coloured bruise from that fall. It has long since healed, but to this day I have a huge stair-shaped dent in my ass that, to the best of my knowledge, will never go away: a memento from one of my absolute worst days. That day marks the beginning of the most difficult period during this whole thing. While we were waiting on the genetic test results I spoke with my doctor who told me that she suspected this was most likely an egg quality issue. That if we did this again, even with some tweaks to my medication protocol, the results could likely be similar (I will not get into how uncool it is that IVF treatments in the upwards of $20,000 price range can function as diagnostic procedures). This information gave us permission to decide that after this round was done we were ready to move on from treatment. This was when grief hit me the hardest. And even though I knew I would have to move through that grief in whatever form it took, I felt ready to start dreaming up a new childfree future (while there are many other amazing ways to start a family, they either felt out of reach, and/or not for us).
Although I’d been grappling with this potential outcome for years, I actually started to feel like… ya this makes sense. Maybe having kids just wasn’t a good fit for me. I’m an adult who still feels like a teenager. Most of the time I make just enough money to get by and that’s it. We live in a one bedroom apartment. I never learned to drive. I love spending time alone! Do I even like kids? Would I have ever fit in with mommy culture? Amidst a strange cocktail of grief and heartache, I was just slightly starting to fall in love with the idea of being a childfree family. I love seeing others make this choice, why couldn’t I love it for myself? I started making a list of new priorities for my imagined future:
And then, in another shocking turn of events, our embryo somehow passed the genetic test. But this didn’t mean I had to abandon my plan B fantasy of being a hot Southwestern stripper filled to the brim with gluten and molly. No: this little-embryo-that-could did not come with any guarantees. In my case there was a 40% success rate. Most successful IVF stories I hear of take more than one round. We were going to be one and done. While I kept taking care of my heart and body to prepare for the transfer, I still grieved. I still cried everyday. I think I did a lot of grief processing during this time. Much like anticipatory grief, I started to feel ready for the big blow. Like maybe I would finally be able to put down this heavy weight I’ve been carrying and experience some relief.
Even though I had a few transfer cycles cancelled due to thin uterine lining and even though my lining never really got as thick as they’d like to see it, somehow that embryo stuck. Somehow it kept sticking. I got past the mark that I lost my last pregnancy. I got past the first trimester. I am still in disbelief. Despite the fact that I’m more than half way through, have seen the ultrasounds, can feel baby wiggling around in there, and am visibly bumpy, just yesterday I thought “maybe the clinic made a mistake. Maybe they mixed up my chart with another patient. Surely this can’t be right.” Honestly I will probably be thinking this in some quiet way until I’m holding a baby in my arms… maybe even then I won’t be able to shake this creeping and irrational doubt.
I told my therapist that I was compelled to finish this entry with something to the effect of telling you “…don’t be happy for me.” That sentence has no real end or explanation because it’s just a foggy impulse. She said that it isn’t uncommon for survivors to encounter the feeling that they “haven’t suffered enough” which hit me like a punch in the gut because it completed that foggy sentence. Someone always has it worse, and my heart still feels heavy for those that do, and for the future I was so so close to living in. I think another end of that sentence is that I would have liked it if you’d been equally happy for me if I didn’t get pregnant. I resent the narrative that the only happy ending to an infertility story is a baby at the end. Please, reader: be happy for the alternate reality hot bodied Anna who’s tripping on shrooms in her Nudie Suit while riding the Tennessee Tornado at Dollywood. Her life has only just begun.
(Although that’s a logical final sentence to this story I would like to add that it’s completely ok if you’re happy for me! I’m starting to feel happy for myself. It’s complicated, but letting in the happiness is surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. I’m excited that we’re moving on from the limbo of the past difficult years and I can’t wait to meet our new little friend. I hope that doesn’t sound braggy)
Much love to everyone for being here and letting me tell this tale. Reach out or comment if you have something to share xoxo
I’m dropping a new print in the shop on Thursday October 28th at 1:00pm EDT. This one is a variation on the first No Name print I ever made! Shipping will once again be zany this season so I’d suggest getting ahead of the holiday rush if that’s your thing. More ceramics drops are on the way :)