Losing your soul to IVF

We’re doing this. Again. This is our SIXTH IVF cycle. I never, ever, ever would have believed I would be in this position. Not because I’m in denial that we’re infertile, but because I would have thought we would have thrown in the towel long ago. But because of a variety of reasons, here we are.

First cycle was easy. I was young (32!) and infertile, but one fresh cycle of IVF later (with a single embryo transfer) we had our beautiful little boy. I was a perfect patient. It was a perfect outcome.

Cycles 2-4 were a little messier. I was older (35). Our lab accidentally ruined the two frozen embryos from our first cycle (long story short, they were changing equipment; we can discuss later why I didn’t decide to go with a different clinic). But my clinic offered a free cycle so we went with it. And, again, we chose all single embryo transfers. First cycle we got pregnant but had a miscarriage before heartbeat. (Blighted ovum.) Second cycle was a bust. The third cycle we got pregnant again but it was a chemical pregnancy.

We went back to the doctor wondering, is there any chance or are we just done? Our doctor suggested maybe that was a bad batch and we could try one more time with chromosomal testing of the embryos. We thought that made sense. Given our history, we assumed we just had genetically abnormal embryos, and there was a good chance that we’d do a retrieval cycle and not get much or the ones we’d get would all be abnormal. So imagine our amazement when (now at 36) we ended up with FIVE chromosomally normal embryos. So off we went again, and I ended up pregnant. We were so, so happy. And then devastated when we learned our baby girl was not coming home with us due to a rare and fatal birth defect.

So where did this leave us? Now I’m 37. Emotionally, I want to be done. If we did not have any embryos in storage I would happily walk away from this whole process and just try to forget it ever happened.

But we did have embryos in storage—FOUR genetically normal ones. Quitting felt like running a marathon and then stopping ten feet before the finish.

So we tried again. 

And that’s how I’m in the position where I have now done SIX rounds of IVF. I have been pregnant seven times total, four times from IVF. Each of these experiences / losses has felt like they have taken a piece of my soul. And I feel like I almost (?) have nothing left.

One of the worst parts about reaching this point is that I could really use a friend to cry about it with. But I’ve been through this so many times I just can’t. I mean, my friends would listen and they would care and they would be sympathetic, but criminy! How many times can I ask for comfort/sympathy for choices I’m making? 

After my ectopic pregnancy all of my friends were so worried about me. After my post-ectopic miscarriage (which might also have been ectopic) they brought me pastries and chai tea while I cried in bed. After my blighted ovum they took me to lunch (we ordered wine!). After my most recent loss, they sent me flowers, dropped off food, gave me (expensive!) champagne (because I love it and could finally drink again), etc. etc. etc.

But I can’t keep demanding support. I’m sure people are thinking, girl, it’s time to be done. How much energy (physical and emotional) and money are you going to throw at this? You tried. A lot. A whole lot. Time to stop. (That’s what I would be thinking.)

The isolation I feel is crushing.

I told my husband, I’m losing my soul to this. (Maybe I’ll end up like Voldemort—immortal.)