Eggcellent Mom Chronicles

One thing I’ve repeatedly experienced over the past 15 months is that growth continues. It persists regardless of whether I’m feeling stuck in various treatments. Growth pushed me through both of my embryo transfer failures. It helped me overcome recovering from surgery. Growth helped me approach a second round of IVF and stim cycle. And now, I’m relying on growth to carry me through another trying season.

I’m going to split this blog into two parts: a TL;DR (too long; didn’t read) summary and a bonus, more detailed explanation below!

TL;DR

I was not prepared for my doctor to call and say that only two embryos came back with normal chromosomes, eligible for transfer.

Grief strikes again.

Since the call, I have been trying to quiet the grieving voice in the back of my head. Two embryos weren’t enough last time.

Sometimes this voice shouts: “Two failed! Two isn’t enough!”

But then I whisper to myself: Grow. GRow. GROw. GROW.

And I take a moment to work on myself.

We have a new plan for my next transfer, one that relies more on my body’s own natural cycle to prepare for a pregnancy. My two previous failures were fully medicated cycles, but this time, we’ll be running frequent tests and scans, along with smaller doses of medication, to let my body naturally accept the embryo.

“Grow around grief.” I’ll be honest here… I actually stole this powerful phrase from the therapist who leads my fertility group. Shoutout to the JFF (Jewish Fertility Foundation)!

Grow around grief. This is my new mantra. Both growth and grief are true in life, and particularly in this season of IVF and TTC (Trying To Conceive).

Grow around grief. I’m growing my hope to prepare for a new type of embryo transfer.

Grow around grief. It’s only human.

And now, for the bonus explanation:

Infertility is a constant questioning of what is wrong with your body. “Why can’t I get pregnant? What am I doing wrong? What do I need to do differently? What is wrong with me?” It’s a heavy constant to bear. 

My grief this year has come in waves. It began 15 months ago when I first thought I was facing diminished ovarian reserve. It was present when my first egg retrieval did not go as planned last year. Grief was present when my September embryo transfer failed. And it knocked me over when my final embryo failed in December.

I started learning about my own resilience and growth. I wish I didn’t have to, but I know it to be true.

Grief reared again when I learned I was no longer eligible for a fresh transfer. This one hit hard. When I met with my doctor to prepare for this round of IVF, she explained why a fresh transfer plan would be best. She detailed the benefits of doing it right after my laparoscopy and considering my unexplained implantation failures. I felt like I could handle this grief then because my ovaries were GROWING so much during this stim cycle.

I became ineligible for a fresh transfer because my estrogen rose over 6000, my progesterone surpassed signs of implantation success, and my ovaries swelled to the size of large grapefruits full of around 40 follicles. I carried my grief then with this immense physical growth because I felt the possibility in those 40 potential eggs that could be retrieved. It seemed worth the physical discomfort and the long recovery.

On the day of my retrieval, my biggest worry was that my right ovary was going to roll away again and we would not be able to safely access the follicles. I remember the first thing I asked upon coming out of anesthesia was “How many, and did you get them from my right side?!” The answer was an astounding YES, and 30 eggs were retrieved!

I knew, moving forward, that the attrition rate at each round is typically 50%, so I was overjoyed to learn that 27 eggs were mature and 24 fertilized! The next week, waiting for the final call on how many reached the embryo blastocyst stage, felt like it would never end. Thankfully, I was able to return to my summer home, surrounded by the beauty of nature and friendships at the camp I grew up at. It was the perfect place to be when the call came in that eight embryos developed into blastocysts, were biopsied, and sent off for genetic testing to determine if they were chromosomally normal.

During these next 10 days, I felt like the physical growth and discomfort I experienced was worth the grief of the past year. In my head, I thought four would come back, but grief stuck again.

The voice of grief is still there, yes, but my new mantra, ‘Grow around grief,’ is becoming my guiding light. It reminds me that even when things aren’t what I expected, there’s always space for hope, for resilience, and for the possibility of life to take root. I’m stepping into this next phase with open eyes and an open heart, ready to witness what can grow, and to bring a new Jewish life, my child, into this world.

Your support has carried me through every twist and turn, and it remains crucial as I embark on this new phase. If you’re able to contribute, your generosity continues to bring me closer to building the future I’ve been holding in my heart. You can find more information on my GoFundMe page.