My Silent Struggle with Infertility

Infertility. Yes, that dirty word. And its close friends shame, stigma and depression. With our son turning four, it’s a good time for me to reflect on the ups and downs we went through for him to come into our world.

Living with Envy
I was an expert at peeing on a stick. Looking at one negative ovulation or pregnancy test after another made me want to throw up. I just couldn’t do it. I never wanted something so badly in my entire life. I lived with constant envy, it ate away at me.

One of my friends, who was never able to conceive, told me, “It’s hard to be successful at everything except the one thing my body is supposed to do.”

My husband was my rock. When he had a feeling someone was going to tell us they were expecting, he would brace me for it. He would say, “Put on a happy face, and you can cry as soon as we get off the phone.” Or as soon as we get home.

When both of my sisters-in-law – who were younger than me and had been married less time than us – got pregnant, my husband held me while I sobbed for hours after hearing the news. Please don’t misunderstand, I was happy for them. But it was a reminder of how another month had gone by without seeing those pink lines we longed for.

My Situation
We’d been trying to get pregnant for several years. Not only was I battling fibroids, I went through four OB/GYNs before finally meeting the most amazing doctor who truly suspected there was an issue. I was little lax on counting my days, but we should have been pregnant.

Turns out my follicle-stimulating hormone (FSH), which is produced by the pituitary gland in the brain, was “off.” And it was high for my age, which meant my ovarian reserve was rapidly diminishing.

FSH is primarily responsible for stimulating growth of the ovarian follicle, which includes the developing egg, the cells surrounding the egg that produce the hormones needed to support a pregnancy, and the fluid around the egg. By the time this was discovered, I also had a submucosal fibroid (benign mass) the size of a golf ball and one a little smaller in lining of my uterus. It was recommended that I have surgery to remove the fibroids, which were impending on my uterus. Due to my reduced ovarian reserve and elevated FSH, we had slim to no chance of getting pregnant naturally. Due to my high FSH, I wasn’t a good candidate for IVF.

I remember a wave of numbness washing over me as I sat across the desk from the fertility specialist. As I began losing focus on what was being said, my husband was laser-focused on the conversation.

He said to the doctor, “I deal in numbers. I need to know what percentage chance we have.”

Like someone who’s clearly practiced this move before, the doctor slid a box of tissues across his mahogany desk and said, “Zero percent.”

At some point I excused myself, went to the unwelcoming, overly sanitized bathroom and lost it. I was certain I’d never get to feel the joy of hearing another human’s heart beating inside my body or feel the little flutter like a butterfly flapping its wings within my growing belly.

Those Two Pink Lines
How did I finally get pregnant? It’s basically a medical miracle, if you ask our fertility doctor. It happened with no medicine, no surgery and no medical intervention. The honest-to-goodness truth is that I went on a fairly decent bender. I just quit caring, and maybe that’s what needed to happen.

My paternal grandmother also happened to pass in those two weeks between our fertility appointment and my getting pregnant. She was a devout Christian, and I like to say that she and God had quite the chat when she arrived at the pearly gates, which is how Charlie came about.

I came home on a Friday night and told my husband, “I think I have an ear infection. I’m dizzy.” He jokingly said, maybe you’re pregnant.

Since I stopped tracking that month, I hadn’t even paid attention to when my period was due. I peed on a stick. I couldn’t handle seeing another negative test, so my husband said he would check it. He walked out of the bathroom, and we finally got our two pink lines.

​Advice to My Past Self
When I meet women facing fertility challenges, I share my story.

Looking back, I wish I’d been more open about our struggle. We hid it from our family and our friends. We always blew it off by saying things like: “One of these days,” or “When the time is right.”

We outright lied to those closest to us, and I wish I’d been more open. I also wish I found a doctor who would listen to my concerns sooner.

We know how fortunate we are to have our son. From a medical perspective, he never should have happened. And, while we may never be blessed with another child, our journey with our son makes us appreciate him in a very special way each day.