In September 1st my period came again and we started with a wonderful new clinic. I was nervous to make the switch. It meant new blood work, scans and building a new relationship with a new team (let’s be real though, there wasn’t much of one at the last clinic). I’m not sure I would have had the energy to keep going with the first one anyhow. It’s like kicking a relationship until it’s last breath. It felt like it was just time to call it. I felt like I deserved better. 

I called the clinic on cycle day one and we discussed then and there what our next steps would/should be. Did I want to forge ahead with a retrieval and get moving asap? Absolutely! But we decided before we made any more attempts that it would be smarter to do some further testing. 

We started with my AMH levels, last tested in April of 2022. My initial levels were 9.6 pmol/L, but now in September 2023 they had dropped significantly to 5.1 (for those on the ng/mL scale, it went from about 1.34 to .78). This officially put me in DOR (diminished ovarian reserve) territory. Scary stuff. Your AMH can fluctuate but I took this seriously. Going ahead, and looking back, it was becoming harder to get quality eggs and embryos. Our time was running out and the embryos we could get were becoming rare and precious. 

We decided with our new doctor (who is wonderful BTW) to do a mock cycle before doing another retrieval. This would delay our retrieval by 2-4 months but it would be instrumental in ruling out and identifying any barriers to carrying a healthy pregnancy.

Mock cycles are often debated in the fertility community. Some doctors are all for them, and the myriad of biopsies that can go alongside them. There is mixed evidence, or maybe just not enough evidence to convince all doctors of the value of these tests, but I wanted to take the kitchen sink approach. We were still very much in unexplained infertility territory, so anything that could explain what was happening was welcome.(I’ll link to some relevant studies below in case you want to read them)

Four endometrial biopsy tests were recommended as options with one strongly urged over the others. I decided to do all of them. 

EndomeTrio (3 tests)

ERA (Endometrial Receptivity Analysis)

The ERA test checks the receptivity of the uterine lining to find out if it is lining is receptive to embryo implantation at the time of a normal transfer. The test could indicate a different amount of progesterone in preparation for future embryo transfers. (The ERA test resulted in a 73% pregnancy rate in patients with implantation failure) 

(https://www.igenomix.co.uk/genetic-solutions/endometrio-clinics/#:~:text=The%20ERA%20test%20evaluates%20the,personalised%20embryo%20transfer%20(pET).)

ALICE (Analysis of Infectious Chronic Endometritis) 

ALICE detects the bacteria causing chronic endometritis (CE) and identifies the most common bacteria causing it and helps clinicians to recommend appropriate antibiotic and probiotic treatments.

EMMA (Endometrial Microbiome Metagenomic Analysis) 

EMMA evaluates the uterine environment at the microbiological level by analyzing it’s  microbiome. It can indicate whether the uterus has the optimal microbiome for embryo implantation.

UTIMPRO (strongly encouraged by our doctor)

UtimPro is a biopsy that analyzes the immune profile of your uterine environment and response to foreign cells (embryos, etc). It tests for natural killer cells and it can indicate a very specific customized protocol for individual patients. 

To do a mock cycle, you basically proceed as if you’re planning on doing a frozen embryo transfer. I started on Estradiol on day one, and similar to a FET, my lining was monitored throughout my cycle. I did 5 appointments with my friend Wanda, and it took a little while to get to the needed 7.5mm minimum uterine lining thickness required for the biopsy. I introduced progesterone on day 28 (pretty normal for me as I struggle with thin lining issues) – both as suppositories and intramuscular injections. My biopsy finally took place 6 days later on October 3rd. 

I’ll stop here to say, by this time I had met with my actual doctor either on zoom or in person 5 times in one month. He was also the one to personally do my scans and my biopsy. Seeing that smiling familiar face made all the difference. Technically the appointments were the same, but patient care was worlds ahead with the new clinic. From the receptionists and nurses to the clinic itself and their professionalism and timeliness. It made the experience better many times over. 

The biopsy was…. Not fun. Not going to sugar coat it. Because of the things being tested, the biopsy only allows you to take Tylenol as a pain killer and is fully unmedicated otherwise. I managed to convince them to give me a Ativan to take as I tend to have a sensitive cervix. The procedure requires them to use the speculum, and sometimes a cervical clamp, and insert a tool into the uterus to scrape the lining. It’s as gross as it sounds. The doctor told me it would hurt and I prepared myself. He told me I could swear at him if I needed to, that it would last 10-15 seconds and I’d have some severe cramping. The nurse offered to hold my hand.

They went in with the pipette (the tool for the biopsy scrape), and I was surprised it didn’t hurt more to be honest. It did suck, very much. But I tolerated it and they applauded me for handling it better than most do. Once the procedure ended, the cramping stopped. It turned to mild tenderness, and I spotted a tiny bit following the procedure. After that, I was good to go.

The test results take 2-3 weeks on average for the EndomeTRIO and 4-6 weeks for the UTIMPRO.

The doctor put me on Estradiol again for 5 days, but I began bleeding 3 days later for my next period. All in all, I think it was worthwhile. The overall cost was around $3400 CAD including meds, the time it took was 33 days for the cycle, and the recovery was almost immediate.

Now, we wait for those juicy results.

Studies on the above mentioned tests:

The Uterine Immune Profile May Help Women With Repeated Unexplained Embryo Implantation Failure After In Vitro Fertilization (2016)

Comparison of the Effectiveness of Endometrial Receptivity Analysis (ERA) to Guide Personalized Embryo Transfer with Conventional Frozen Embryo Transfer in 281 Chinese Women with Recurrent Implantation Failure

Is Endometrial Receptivity Assay (ERA) Useful in Patients with
Repeated Implantation Failure Undergoing Single, Autologous Euploid
Embryo Transfer?

The Endometrial Microbiome and Its Impact on Human Conception

Characterization of the Endometrial Microbiome in Patients with Recurrent Implantation Failure

The diagnosis of chronic endometritis in infertile asymptomatic women: a comparative study of histology, microbial cultures, hysteroscopy, and molecular microbiology

The effect of chronic endometritis and treatment on patients with unexplained infertility

The post The Biopsies appeared first on .

Since going through this I have become a FIERCE advocate for women’s rights and abortion rights. I always was pro-choice, because I truly believe women aren’t out there in droves trying to abort babies late in pregnancy. I never thought I’d have an “abortion”, but that’s what a medicated miscarriage is classified as.

I didn’t mention this in my past post, but let me lay out how that week went.

On February 22, 2023 I started a full-time job. I am a photographer full-time, but knowing we wanted a baby, knowing the costs of IVF and how fixated I was on fertility, I wanted a distraction. I also wanted maternity leave one day. I applied for jobs and took on this job before I knew I was pregnant, but hopeful it would happen. By the time I started I knew I was pregnant.

My first day I went into the office to meet everyone in person. My interviews had been on zoom, so this would be the first time. That day was the first day I started bleeding. While I was trying to focus on the job, I was panicked about whether I was losing this baby.

As time went on, juggling a new role that was more challenging than it ought to be and juggling a guarded pregnancy was hard. At the time, was a solely remote position, at the very least so I got to work from home. I found out on Friday, March 10th that we had no heartbeat. Before starting work for the day at 8am. I came home, told my boss I got some bad news, he pressed a bit about what, and I told him family stuff. He told me to take it easy that day, I’d continue to work at my own discretion but I may not be all there.

I called my clinic and they had the doctor call me back to discuss “options”.

I had 3 options.

1. A natural miscarriage, which may or may not occur – if it did not, I’d have to consider option 2/3 anyway. It could take a while, it might not happen at all. We already knew our baby was gone for a week at that stage, so infection was also a risk the longer the tissue stayed in my body.
2. A medicated miscarriage – I’d take one medication day 1, a second medication day 2, and the miscarriage process would begin ideally within 12-24 hours.
3. A D&C (surgical removal of the pregnancy). More invasive, more concrete.

I decided on option 2. The determining factor for me was speed, I wanted it gone. I didn’t want to be pregnant anymore. I would have to wait for a D&C, until there was time in the surgeon’s schedule. It could be with very little notice. If I took medication one immediately that day, I could start the miscarriage on Saturday, with hope it would be finished by Monday so I could work again.

The clinic sent me to a very specific pharmacy in my area. This is where we learn about reproductive rights…

Abortion is legal in Canada. We are VERY lucky to be given the choice. Did I want an abortion? No. Did I need an abortion? Likely yes. Whether the baby was already gone, or whether a defect would cause them suffering, I would have chosen to forgo the natural miscarriage. In any miscarriage/abortion, it’s possible for tissue to be retained by the body, and it can cause all kinds of issues. Option 2/3 both are the most helpful at removing all the tissue. Option 1 often requires 2/3 anyway to remove it all. Sometimes 2 or 3 don’t get it all either, and another method has to be used.

Despite being legal, very few pharmacies stock the medication. Mifepristone, when used together with another medicine called Misoprostol, are used to end a pregnancy through 9-10 weeks gestation on average. It’s controversial. I had NO IDEA how hard it was to acquire, even with the doctor’s prescription and sign off. We learn new things every day.

My husband went and picked up the medication for me while I finished work for the day, and as soon as he came home I started the process.

My medicated abortion experience was hard, but predictable (thank baby jeebus). It was both the worst pain of my life and the biggest relief of my life.

Trigger warning again – graphic descriptions/loss.

I took day 1’s dose. This medication is a progesterone blocker. It stops supporting the pregnancy, in preparation for a clearing of the uterus. That was all good.

On Saturday, day 2, I took Misoprostol. I had read stories of people’s experiences on Reddit and online forums. I was scared but ready. I surrounded myself with the essentials:

• Heating pad
• Advil
• Tylenol
• Snacks
• Gatorade
• Netflix
• Adult diapers
• Bucket for vomit

I took the pill and within around 4 hours I started cramping, as expected. The cramps built up over the next two hours. Tolerable still. But medication helped. I kept a hot pack on my abdomen to ease the discomfort.

I put on the adult diaper just in case.

About 7 hours after the medication it began. Cramps continued to build into what I’ll describe as borderline contractions. I started bleeding slightly and kept checking to see if anything major was happening. Bleeding got heavier, but nothing much greater than a period.

For some, the first dose doesn’t work, and they have to take a second dose after 24 hours. I was ‘lucky’ this wasn’t the case. At 7.5 hours or so, I started having excruciating cramps/contractions. Keep in mind, I am popping advil and tylenol on regular intervals at the max dose. Let’s just say it did not take the edge off.

I went into what I assume were full on contractions. I was sweating, I couldn’t wear clothes, I put a mat down on the bathroom floor but all my body felt like it wanted to do was sit on the toilet and poop out my insides. Nothing came besides liquid blood.

I sat on the floor again, for about 45 minutes. It ramped up. It was the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life. Worse than the banana bike seat up the hooha at age 12, worse than a dental abscess that triggered my trigeminal nerve, worse than any IVF injection, any skinned knees or any period I have ever had. Worse than the car accidents and sprains. I sat doing cat-cow on the floor for what seemed like eternity, mooing like a damn cow (seriously). I pushed and pushed and nothing came, until suddenly I felt a gush, a release. The contractions returned to cramps, and there it was.

That thing I fought so hard to grow. That 30 thousand dollar piece of tissue. The visible gestational sac, about 3 inches long. Luckily, no fetus was visible, but I assume it was present in a few pieces of the tissue that were expelled (a few different things came out with different consistencies/colour). I knew from reading about the process, and what parts needed to be accounted for, that my miscarriage was done.

I went to bed, kept popping the pills and applying the heat. The next day I recovered in bed, my body was exhausted, like I had run a marathon. The hormones were FIERCE. Coming off the high hormones of pregnancy, and slowly losing them over the coming weeks was a trip. I felt waves of depression, which almost seemed like postpartum depression in hindsight, comparing this to what my mama friends have told me post birth.

I returned to work on Tuesday, taking Monday off because I just didn’t care anymore.

Slowly my thoughts began to look forward at what was next. We still had a normal embryo on ice, so all was not lost. The fighter could continue to fight when the time was right. We still had a shot.

The post Medicated Miscarriage appeared first on .

Pregnancy after loss is a beast, even if the loss was barely after finding out you’re pregnancy in the first place. My previous loss was so early that I didn’t really know it was happening, had it not been for my beta bloodwork telling me so.

When I got this positive, the feeling was not exactly excitement. It was a flurry of tests over and over until I felt confident it wasn’t going to to fade or disappear. I tested for maybe 10 straight days to watch the line get darker. After a while, it’s natural for the tests not to be able to accommodate the levels of HCG your body is producing, so you get the illusion of a lighter test. To combat this, there’s a theory that if you dilute your urine again, it will be more easily picked up by the pregnancy test. This was the case for me at a certain period – I can’t recall when, but I am guessing around 20dpo or so.

I would every now and again catch myself thinking, when we have this baby in 9 months, wondering what they would be like, who they would look like more. I wouldn’t let myself buy anything this time around though. It’s just different when you know how fragile pregnancies can be (god, I envy those people who never have a loss or significant struggle to conceive).

I am going to get really real and candid for a second. I have only shared this with 1-2 friends during this process. Many people who know me know that I have always been a bit of a black sheep. If you read my earlier posts, there’s a slight indication of that. But it runs deep.

Much of my ‘history’ has been pieced together through stories my family have told me – family I trust – and I didn’t know this until I was very much an adult in my 30s. My mom had me after having what I can only assume was an affair with someone while she was married. She wanted a baby, so I am told. Why I don’t know. I learned from a very young age that it likely wasn’t the “baby” she wanted, but the stability and security of a ‘normal’ relationship. My biological father enjoyed drinking. They weren’t super young, 26/28 when I was born. Technically, the divorce from my mom’s husband happened late, right around when I was born. I found this out through a divorce certificate I discovered in a box a number of years ago. Some drama went down, no doubt. My bio father wasn’t looking to have a baby. I believe there was deception involved, and I also believe abuse was a factor in my not really knowing him until I was an older child.

When I was around 2, I was “lucky” enough to have had my mother’s boyfriend take an interest in raising me. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother while my mom was off being a 20 something year old. But when I was 3, my “Dad” started to raise me more full time. His family took me in like their own, and to this day they are my primary supports.

I say all this because as much as I was “wanted”, I wasn’t. I was planned, but I wasn’t. My entire childhood, and life, I couldn’t picture growing up with a stable and secure life, with the nuclear family and with the ease that comes with secure attachments (a really good book on this is Attached, for anyone curious about the impacts of infant and childhood attachment). Nothing I have ever done has been achieved without taking the hard road.

I was moved around every 3-5 years of my childhood/teen years. I never had a “group” of friends, always lurking on the outside. I had lots of friends, but never truly fit in any one place. I couldn’t go to university when my peers did because my bio parents made too much money but refused to help me out, so I didn’t qualify for loans until I was 24. I never made university friends because I was 7 years + older than everyone else. I didn’t learn to drive until my mid 20s because nobody would take the time to teach me (my now ex bf graciously offered when I was 24). I’ve never been on a “family vacation”. Nothing has come without a fight, a wait, a challenge. This “fight” is a part of my soul.

When we got pregnant, I couldn’t believe it would be this easy. This simple. And in true me fashion, it wasn’t.

Trigger warning ahead: graphic descriptions.

At 5 weeks and 4 days I started bleeding. My periods are usually light, so this was scary. I passed some heavy tissue/clots. I was sure I was miscarrying this pregnancy and had passed it. I had some intense but brief cramping. I googled it, naturally. Cramps and blood isn’t good in combo. I called my clinic and I got in for an emergency ultrasound at the hospital the next day to verify whether it was gone. It wasn’t. The sac was there, measuring correctly. Why was I bleeding?

The doctors chalked it up to what they call a SCH (Subchorionic Hematoma), a collection of blood in the uterus that eventually releases. It can be harmless, or harmful. It depends on the type.

My clinic told me to go home, take it easy, and continue my meds (progesterone injections, those huge gross ones, and oral/vaginal meds). I did just that. I continued to bleed lightly, but it tapered off slightly.

My next ultrasound was scheduled for 6w2d. I did not have high hopes. They wanted to monitor me closely, even though the norma was to do the first scan around 7 weeks. Two days before I started bleeding heavily again. More tissue and clots. I went to my ultrasound and I said to the doctor, “I’m prepared for bad news, so please be real”. He said, “we’re you prepared for a heartbeat?”

Holy effing shite. This threw me. I was floored. My heart skipped a beat. A HEARTBEAT? IT HAS A HEARTBEAT?

He explained that I was measuring a couple of days behind, which in itself is not a huge deal. But the heartbeat was slower than he’d like. He called it a “guarded pregnancy”. We’d want to be cautiously optimistic. It could go either way.

Nothing comes without a fight, I told myself.

I left the clinic elated that it was still hanging on. I was still pregnant. We could do this. If I could fight so could this baby.

The week passed, I passed more blood. Less bright coloured (a good thing indicating older blood vs. a new bleed). I was still scared to death.

We went together for my 7 week ultrasound as planned.

I listened to Tara Lapinski’s podcast, Unexpecting, recently and she put words to feelings and experiences I hadn’t been able to describe. In her podtcast she reiterates how in all her scans, she noticed the technician “seeking” before giving bad news. This was what I experienced.

Seeking. Measuring. Seeking. Seeking. Measuring.

The baby was there. It was measuring 6w2d (at 7w, not good). She said “theres no FHR”.

Ok, but what? What is FHR… then, my brain put the pieces together. Fetal Heart Rate. There was no fetal heart rate. (are you crying yet? Because I am…).

How the f&%! I held the tears back then, I don’t know. She said she was sorry. She left the room. I had no pants on. My husband was staring at me with sad puppy eyes. Unsure what to do or say. I told him to look away, I couldn’t handle being nude and having him stare at me with those eyes.

I got dressed, still holding it together. Doing that thing we as women are taught to do. “Stop crying”.

I walked out of the room in a daze. Walk through the waiting room. Get to the door I told myself. Just get to the damn door.

I opened the door and emotionally I collapsed. I cried and cried and couldn’t stop crying. I have never cried so much in my entire life. All of the feelings of black sheepery, having a hard go all the damn time, never getting a break, came flooding to me. All the hope was washed away by my tears. I got in the car, I had to get my husband to drive because I couldn’t keep my eyes open and dry. I cried the 25 minutes home. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried when I got home. For days, I continued to cry.

The flicker was gone. The hope was gone. Our baby was gone.

The post A flicker of hope – Pt 2 appeared first on .

We kept on trying through the summer, taking my basal body temperature (BBT) daily, tracking it in a charting app, peeing on blue LH sticks to predict ovulation, timing the deed within my fertile window. We tried going on vacation, we quit drinking in July (still sober, woohoo!), we started on more supplements and tried to stay healthy and relaxed.

A close friend of mine got a referral to a fertility clinic locally in the spring and in type-A fashion, I did the same because I knew there would be a long wait IF we needed to go that route. I still had a lot of hope we’d succeed on our own.

We got into the clinic fairly quickly, waiting just a couple of months. We weren’t ready to stop trying but we happily did the bloodwork they wanted, infectious disease screening, and my husband did a semen analysis. Everything came back pretty normal, minus a small hiccup – I didn’t have immunity to the Rubella virus (I was vaccinated in school but I guess it never took). Given the low prevalence of Rubella I felt comfy signing a waiver and forgoing the vaccine again – it would have delayed trying by 2-3 months. My 37 year old eggs weren’t ready for that.

Summer came and went. No pregnancy. In late august we made a decision, after 8 months of trying with no success we decided to do a medically assisted cycle. It was the least costly and least challenging way to give my body a boost. They say, after 6 months of trying after 35, if you do not have success you should seek professional assistance. Under 35 it is recommended after one year.

As mentioned before, your Luteal phase (after your ovulation until your period) should be a minimum of 9 days. Mine was 11, but it was possible this could have been hindering our odds. I worked with the clinic to start on a cycle of Letrozole medication. This would ultimately make ovulation occur more regularly (around cycle day 14-15) and prolong my luteal phase. 3 more months came and went. No pregnancy.

Feeling really defeated and scared that something larger was going on, we had a follow up with the doctor (OBGYN), and he suggested we speak with a Reproductive Endocrinologist about IUI or IVF.

After a long phone meeting with the doctor, some review of the stats on IUI (IUI is Intrauterine Insemination – basically a glorified method of using the turkey baster, with a cleaned up sperm sample), we decided this wasn’t the route for us given my age. It was way cheaper than IVF, around 700-800 per cycle and many people go this route before venturing into IVF. We just couldn’t get on board with the success rates (10-12% per cycle instead of the approx 8-10% with trying naturally).

We decided to forge ahead and give IVF a go.

This is where I say how fortunate we are that we have this option at all. Many couples do not, for various reasons. Financial being the biggest of all. An average IVF cycle in Canada costs between $17-22k with the procedure and medications. This doesn’t include genetic testing of the embryos, subsequent frozen embryo transfers, further analysis, or embryo storage in many cases. Some people have insurance – really more companies should be providing an option for infertility insurance at the very least. But most do not. It’s a rarity.

I used to think people who did IVF were entitled. That it was unnecessary and they should “just accept the cards life dealt them”. A baby isn’t the end all be all of existence, and there are a myriad of other ways to grow your family. But, as soon as infertility reared its ugly head at me, my perspective shifted.

Having a condition that prevents you from achieving your goals and dreams, that results in loss and tragedy, that hurts your body and your heart is far from entitlement. One day I’ll talk on adoption and explain why we chose to do IVF as our first choice. But I’ll say now that it was not an easy choice, and having a biological child was not even my first choice from the beginning. But it was now the plan.

So here we were. About to embark on the most blind decision of our entire life. No clue what to expect, feeling so damn isolated and alone, shameful, broken.

I told a select few people and got the worst response possible…
“Congratulations”, “That’s so exciting!”

Lesson 1 in IVF: It’s not something to be celebrated and it’s the furthest from exciting. It means your life savings is about to dwindle for a remote chance that you can achieve something other people get for free, by accident even (I still don’t understand this as it seems impossible from this perspective). It means you get to endure pain and pokes and prodding before you even achieve pregnancy. Before you even know if it’s possible.

The only thing I was excited about was to hopefully get answers. And to have medical support and monitoring to help us get there sooner, before my geriatric old lady eggs shrivelled up.

The post If at first you don’t succeed appeared first on .

I was in absolute bliss for 5 days. Happy as a pig in shit if you will.

Before all of this started I had seen a walk-in clinic doctor to get some blood work done, just to make sure my nutrients were in order. Nothing super fancy or fertility specific, but Iron, Thyroid etc. She told me at that appointment that her sister had gotten spontaneously pregnant at 39 and again at 41. I was relived. She said I was not “old” in fertility terms. Living in a city where there’s a 10+ year wait for a family doctor, I was thrilled when she invited me back ‘when I got pregnant’ to confirm the pregnancy.

Needless to say I called her office immediately. I made an appointment and I went in just 4 days after the positive test. I peed in a cup and they did the test – really a crappier version of the home tests I was doing. I waited for 10 minutes and they came to tell me they couldn’t confirm the pregnancy. I asked, “How?!”, I was just testing at home and it showed fine. Clearly something was wrong. So she sent me for betas.

For those new to that term, hCG Betas are a blood test that measures human chorionic gonadotropin hormone, basically confirming pregnancy and viability based on the gestational age. You want a certain number by a certain day post ovulation for viability. People that get pregnant spontaneously do not usually have to do this. It’s more of a test to ease the mind. There is what they call a “qualitative” beta, which is a yes or no that you’re pregnant, and a “quantitative” test which gives you a measure of hCG hormone. I had the latter.

My beta came back 23. I was pregnant, but I was “not pregnant enough”. By the date of ovulation – which I knew because I am a psychopathic tester, it should have been over 50. hCG should approximately double every 48 hours, so they send you for a second blood test two days later. My second beta was 17. It was then confirmed that this was a late chemical pregnancy.

Here’s a little crash course for those who haven’t been through this:
– A chemical pregnancy is when an embryo tries or does implant, however it doesn’t stick or implant properly, resulting in a positive test that fades out over time, up to 5 weeks of “pregnancy”. It is also considered an early miscarriage by many professionals.
– Pregnancy is calculated from the start of your cycle, so first day of your period would be day 1. This is a bit confusing, but it allows you to more accurately date a pregnancy that progresses based on approximately how long the eggs take to mature before ovulation.
– Ovulation occurs approximately 14-21 days after your period day 1, this varies depending on the person. If you get pregnant, 14 days would be 2 weeks pregnant. It’s weird but it’s how they do it.
– After ovulation, we have what is called the Luteal Phase. This is a period where progesterone – a hormone created by your body – ramps up to support a potential embryo implanting. Most luteal phases last approximately 14 days. Some are less, some are more. Anything below 9 days is considered a short phase and often needs supplementation. This can also prevent healthy pregnancy from occuring.

When I got my news of my chemical pregnancy, I was 4 weeks 6 days (one day shy of the clinical guideline for a “miscarriage”). My HCG didn’t drop until later, so I still consider this my first loss.

Pregnancy loss is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. In Canada, it is believed that up to 25% of pregnancies result in miscarriage. That’s 1 in 4 pregnancies. I had NO idea the stats were this high before going into it all. I didn’t even think to myself that this pregnancy may not work out.

After a week or so the hCG was gone from my system. I wasn’t able to see it on a test after just a couple of days as most tests don’t pick up anything under 20 mIU/mL.

What people don’t often talk about is how this FEELS. Yes it happened, yes it sucks. But how did it feel?

Telling my husband I had a positive test had me ecstatic. My husband is not a reactor… as in he barely cracks a smile when he’s happy. His response was “cool” or “nice”. But he didn’t bat an eyelash when I started making a list of baby registry items, or started looking at baby names. In just 5 days I was making plans.

To both learn that a pregnancy is not viable, and learn how common it was in such a short time was devastating. It’s not that i grieved the loss of a “baby” per say (some consider it a baby and that’s fine too), for me I grieved the loss of hope, of a future I had imagined, of my life progressing into a different season. I was ready for it and it got taken from me. It was like being on a plane, moving to another country, and being pulled off the plane and told that your visa has been revoked. You won’t be going after all. You’ll be stuck in limbo, or where you’ve been all along for the foreseeable future. The future you’ve planned for and hoped for won’t be happening.

My heart broke.

It took a few days for me to consider moving forward. We got pregnant in 4.5 months after trying, which at 37 was not too shabby. Surely we would do it again. So we started off on our timed intercourse journey again.

The post The Rollercoaster appeared first on .