Eggcellent Mom Chronicles

Being the first one awake in a quiet home is a delicate balance—starting your day while taking the softest steps so as not to wake anyone still sleeping. You toss the covers, slide into your slippers, and gingerly move forward, careful not to disturb the peace.

That’s exactly how I feel right now—soft, quiet steps forward, trying not to stir any more sadness.

I’ve started taking steps to understand why my transfers failed and to prepare for another round of IVF. My doctor ran several blood panels and discovered I have a low level of antithrombin III, which increases my risk of blood clots. As it turns out, this can contribute to pregnancy loss. During both of my transfers, I felt a distinct shift within—a quiet knowing that I was no longer pregnant after about a week. It’s hard to explain, but I just knew. Now, I’m carefully tiptoeing toward an appointment with a hematologist to determine the next steps and available treatments.

At the same time, I’m in the middle of a mock cycle—preparing my body as if it were expecting a pregnancy, only to undergo a biopsy instead. This test will help determine whether I have a marker for silent endometriosis. Once again, I find myself waking early, literally tiptoeing to morning monitoring appointments.

There is hope in having potential answers and a plan, but the weight of uncertainty is still heavy. Infertility toys with your heart, walking alongside you, feeling like the biggest hurdle you must find a way around—or through.

And yet, through it all, the most consistent emotion I’ve felt is gratitude. Small gestures, like a check-in text or a simple hug, have meant everything to me. Your generosity has been overwhelming, especially through donations to my GoFundMe. I wish these tests, treatments, and procedures were more accessible, but they’re not—and I have no insurance coverage for them.

Thank you for your support. If you’re able, your donation would help me take the next steps toward creating my little family.