making peace with ivf

It took Andrew and I a long time to make peace with in vitro fertilization (IVF). We had been trying to get pregnant for a couple of years. We'd had two losses. I know that a lot of people double, triple, even quadruple our waiting years, but we knew that the heartbreak had gone on long enough and we needed to take the next step - IVF. 

Moving forward with IVF requires all sorts of decisions, conversations and sacrifices. It's a major financial burden. It's a hefty physical undertaking. It's a serious time commitment. But it was the spiritual aspect of IVF that had us completely and utterly stuck. 

In our faith community, there's a healthy skepticism about reproductive technology. I count myself among those who wrestle with the implications of our country's big science and small God. So when we felt ourselves inching down the path that leads to IVF (a place we never, ever thought we'd be), we entered into a wrestling match of our own.

Obviously, this is our journey. Only ours. I am not making any recommendations here. I am not providing a theological lesson. I am simply explaining how Andrew and I made peace with IVF.  I have come across many people along the way who feel much differently than we do about these issues. It's such a personal thing, an individual choice, but one that’s important to dialogue about.

Our biggest concern with fertility treatments was whether IVF was sin. In the beginning, we asked so many questions -Are we not trusting God enough by moving forward with this? Does the procedure itself take God/marriage/love out of the equation and remove God's blessing? When embryos die as part of IVF, how close is that to abortion? These were very difficult questions for us to answer, so difficult that many of them went unanswered. But even with unanswered questions, we eventually came to a place where we felt very comfortable and at peace moving forward with it, and we have never once looked back. 

The freezing/cryogenics part of IVF was a tough issue for me to wrap my head around. It sounded really scary and weird at the beginning and was one of my biggest problems with the process, but I've become more comfortable with the idea over the last couple of years as I've learned more about it. I was fascinated to learn that some clinics have found that frozen IVF cycles can often be even more successful than fresh cycles! Also, some women respond much better to frozen cycles than fresh.

All of this is to say that freezing embryos doesn't necessarily mean that they are less likely to turn into viable pregnancies. If you research miscarriage rates, they’re all over the board, but they’re generally higher than we’d expect. That’s because many women think they're just having a late, heavy period when really, they're miscarrying. I have heard doctors say that the embryos that don't survive the thaw are the ones who may have been chemical pregnancies. I know they can't know that for sure, but it really makes sense to me. Also, even after a baby is inside of you (via IVF or a more natural method), there are all sorts of things that can cause problems - deli meat, car accidents, soft cheeses, overly hot showers, seat warmers in cars, laptops, etc. You do your absolute best to protect them, but there are threats everywhere it seems. For us, the cryogenic process was one of those potential threats. So, we felt like it was important to do everything that we could to protect our embryos (choose a reputable clinic with a good lab, decide ahead of time what we’d do with our remaining embryos, etc) and then pray for them like crazy. We knew we couldn't completely protect them. That part took a lot of faith.

One of my very best friends told me the most freeing thing during one of our conversations about spirituality and IVF. I was going on and on and on about the science behind everything, and she eventually just said, "Em, this is all gray area. God hasn't given any specific instructions about embryos, infertility procedures, etc. You have done your due diligence in educating yourself on the subject, and you've still ended up in the gray. There's just so much we don't know. This is one of those situations where you have no other option than to align your heart with God's and ask Him to show you the way. Ask Him to put a peace in your heart if He wants you to pursue IVF and ask him to put an uneasiness in your heart if He wants you to go a different direction."

So that's what we did. We had already researched like crazy and had tons of conversations to get people’s opinions about what we should do, and we kept ending up in that gray area where there are no clear answers. So we stopped focusing on the science and the debate surrounding IVF and put that energy toward our relationships with God. We spent extra time reading Scripture. We talked to God all the time. We made sure that our hearts were as aligned with His as they'd ever been, and we begged Him to take away the peace that He had already placed in our hearts if He didn't want us to do IVF.

At one point during our decision-making process, I pictured myself in heaven having a conversation with God. I imagined Him telling me that the IVF that brought us Harriet was a sin. This probably sounds a bit heretical to even say, but I imagined myself stating my case to Him. I imagined myself describing the way that I put myself out there and pursued Him like crazy and sought His heart and mind on this issue. I imagined myself asking Him why He didn't take away that peace. I just couldn’t imagine God frowning on us for doing something that we had decided to do after such soul-searching and while really, truly, fully pursuing holiness in this. That imagery of having that conversation with God gave me an even more intense peace about it.

Lastly, when we finally decided to do IVF, we created very firm parameters around it. We decided that we would give every single embryo the very best chance at life, whatever that looked like. We decided that we were uncomfortable with the idea of selective reduction. We felt like God had been very faithful in leading us to this decision, and we wanted to be just as faithful in our part of it.

I was talking to a friend about the spiritual aspects of IVF this past summer, and she made an excellent point, one I’d never considered before. She said that what is sin for one person isn't always sin for another person. So the fact that we did IVF and have a peace about it and some friends of ours have decided against IVF for spiritual/ethical reasons doesn’t necessarily mean that anyone is going against God’s direction. Maybe, for whatever reason, God calls certain people to something else, so pursing IVF would be wrong for them. It took me a while to wrap my head around this concept but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me. I can think of examples of other things in life that would be a sin for me but wouldn't be a sin for other people, or vice versa. Like some people can have a couple drinks and it's just fine, but other people have been called to complete sobriety so even one drink is a sin for them. Maybe IVF is the same way.

As far as books and other resources on this topic, I haven't come across much. I think that the ethical/spiritual part of IVF is something that people stray away from for fear of offending people and/or being judged. I really wish that there were more resources out there. I did read one book about the ethics of reproductive technology. It was very black-and-white about the issue and discouraged readers from doing anything in that gray area. Is that probably the "safest" way to go? Some would say yes. They would ask why you'd even want to walk that line of "is it sin or is it not?" To us, the science and academics behind all of this stuff just wasn't cutting it. We needed to feel and experience God's answer in our hearts/souls/bodies rather than keeping it all in our head. So we went a different direction than the book recommended...and I'm fine with that. To me, that felt safer than just having a blanket, black-and-white answer...but many would disagree with that. Again, I wish that there were more resources out there for people who are wrestling with these questions. If you know of any, let me know!

To those of you who are in the midst of this decision, my heart is with you. It’s a tough thing to feel that the thing your heart longs for the most might be in conflict with the One who holds your heart in His hands. I wish I had concrete answers to the many questions that arise around IVF and spirituality, but I don’t. All I have is my own story. Hope it was helpful.

better days

Sitting in the waiting room at the fertility clinic, Andrew observed that the doctors were always saying, "nice to see you again" when greeting patients for consults. He thought that it was an odd thing for them to say considering consults only happen when things aren't going very well.

We didn't have to wait long for Dr. C. He greeted us with a handshake and a warm smile. I often get antsy when no words are exchanged, so I was the one who said "nice to see you again" as a way to ease the awkwardness. 

"Well," Dr. C said. "Not really. I wish we weren't having to meet."

And right away, I felt at ease and even understood. 

We sat down and dove right in. Why isn't IUI working for us? There's no reason to try IUI with injectables, right? What are our chances of success without IVF? You know, the usual questions. The ones we've asked many times before but still need answers to.

Eventually, we started discussing moving on to IVF - the hows, the whens, the ifs. And that's when he said it...

"You guys are getting a free IVF, right?"

I almost yelled back at him, "No, no, NO! Our frozen embryo was damaged last year and you said that you'd either transfer it for free or refund the money we've spent to keep it frozen."

I almost wanted to cry. Don't say that stuff like it's nothing! Get your facts right! Don't you know what simply hearing the words "free IVF" does to people?!

He stopped ruffling through my file. He looked up and said calmly, "No, it's a free IVF."

I flung my hands over my face and just lost it. With my elbows on my knees and my face hidden behind his big desk, I could hear Andrew holding back tears and asking Dr. C what changed. Dr. C said that there were so many tears from the families whose embryos were damaged that they realized that a free frozen embryo transfer wasn't nearly enough. Instead, they're offering free IVF cycles to the families who lost embryos last year.

I had a list of questions on my phone. Many of them went unanswered because this news was a game-changer. None of the other questions seemed to matter much anymore. Dr. C did make it clear that we are responsible for our own medications, which will likely total close to $5,000. But when you plan to pay three times that amount, $5,000 feels pretty good.

I was two days into my femara cycle at the time of the consult, so we decided to continue it, and then do IVF next if it doesn't work. My femara dose this time around was 7.5 mg per day, up from 5 mg per day. I had my monitoring ultrasound this morning, showing a lining of 8 (they want it to be over 7) and two follicles that are big enough to act on. This was the fastest I've responded and only the second time I've had more than one follicle. 

Funny how hope can spin and spin and spin like a spiderweb. Then in an instant, with a sweep of a hand or a gust of wind, it can be gone. But the next morning, in the same place, a fresh spiderweb sparkles with dew and sunlight...ever reinventing itself, ever blind to its own silliness. 

Our consult with Dr. C wove our web of hope massive and multi-layered. We are constantly praying that strong gusts and careless hands stay far, far away. 

not again

In twenty-four hours...

a tire on our car exploded,
a broken/leaky sink made a serious mess,
we got bad news from the mortgage company which will likely delay moving for at least six months,
our stroller tipped over with Harriet in it (terrifying, but she's okay),
and my IUI (intrauterine insemination) was canceled.

I've never experienced a canceled cycle until now, and it has me a little worried. Was it my lack of sleep this month? Was it the fact that I didn't take my vitamins every day? Did I eat too much sugar? Was it the extra stress I've felt lately? Or maybe the drug's potency is just wearing off. We've been trying to conceive our second child for seventeen months now with four medicated IUI cycles (including this last failed cycle). Maybe this is just a sign that it's time to move onto something else.

Andrew wants to do one more IUI. It's not very expensive or invasive, so I tend to agree with him. The only problem is that I have literally zero hope that an IUI is going to bring us a baby. We have done over ten medicated cycles total, and none of them have brought us a child besides our IVF cycle. When we started trying to conceive our second baby, I had a ton of hope. I thought that we'd have success with IUI...I knew we would. I never expected that we'd be rerouting our journey through the land of IVF....again. But I'm not going to do IUI with injectibles. I don't feel comfortable with the risk of multiples and I don't like the financial cost to success rate ratio. IVF is much more appealing to me, especially since we've had success with it before.

But there's something about doing IVF a second time that leaves me feeling a bit unsettled. We were incredibly lucky to get a first chance at IVF. We were extra lucky that it worked. It feels a little excessive to do IVF again, and I am keenly aware that we are in the minority here. The fact that we were able to do IVF at all - let alone for a second time - is an immeasurable gift. I was in tears the other day while expressing the magnitude of this blessing to friends.

Beyond the logistical and financial aspects of IVF, I'm starting to worry about the physical toll it might take on my body. With our last IVF, I felt strong and resilient. I was extremely bloated (at the peak, my waistline was growing two inches per day). I found it difficult to breath. I was an emotional wreck. But I went about my life as normal and felt far from miserable. In fact, I got a tongue-lashing from a nurse for taking my dog on daily four-mile walks.

But I worry that IVF might be much harder on my body the second time around. When trying to conceive Harriet, I barely noticed that I was on clomid and metformin. While trying to conceive a second child, both of those drugs knocked me off my feet. For some reason, my body is much more sensitive, and I just can't handle the side effects like I used to. IVF medications are so much more intense than the oral medications I've been taking, and I worry about how they will affect my ability to function, especially since "taking it easy" isn't exactly an option when you have a toddler.

Speaking of Harriet, I'm fearful about how this process will affect her, especially since the appointments are constant. I will be away from her twice as much as I am now, and I already feel guilty about that. I don't want her to pick up on the emotional and physical toll IVF will take on me either, but she will. Of course she will.

Lastly, I wonder whether IVF will work for us this time around. Before Harriet, I responded well to the drugs every single cycle. I even got pregnant twice. This time around, my cycles are extra long, and as I said before, this last cycle was a complete flop. I've had to be on the highest doses of my oral medications in order to see any results. I worry that my doctor won't be aggressive enough and will just rely on our old protocol because it worked before. I plan to try to convince him that my body is different now, so we need to at least consider other protocols. But I have no idea what I'm talking about. It's just a feeling I have in my body. I want to listen to it because I tend to trust my body...a lot. But I also wonder if it's just my dreaded anxiety stopping by for a visit. We have a consult with Dr. C on July 31st. I've already started my list of questions...there are going to be a lot of them.

Thank you, friends, for all of your support. I have no doubt that you will all rally around me in this, generously sharing your wisdom and encouragement with me. You always, always do.

the teeniest, tiniest babies

This past June, we met with Dr. C to discuss plans for adding another child to our family. I cried in the elevator on the way up to his office. I didn't want to be back there. In some ways, it felt like the happiest place in the world - where Harriet was conceived and spent her first few days in a petri dish. In other ways, it felt so sad. I hated the idea of opening the door to all of the emotions that come along with infertility treatments. I had been enjoying the respite, the celebration, the challenges of having a child rather than the challenges of trying to have a child.

We wanted to talk to Dr. C about doing a frozen embryo transfer (FET) with our one remaining embryo. But that conversation was over before it even started. Dr. C informed us that none of the embryos frozen at our clinic from April to August of last year were resulting in pregnancies. He wasn't sure what went wrong but he did know that our embryo and the rest of the embryos frozen around the same time were damaged beyond repair. Our embryo is still alive and may even survive the thaw but he assured us that it will not result in a pregnancy. They gave us two options. We could have our embryo destroyed and get a refund on our embryo storage fees (at least $1200 so far) or we could continue to pay storage fees and have the embryo transferred to my uterus at some point for free, knowing that barring a miracle, it won't survive. We didn't even consider option #1. Others might disagree, but to Andrew and I, destroying an embryo is destroying a child. So after about two seconds, we told Dr. C that we were going with option #2. 

We will transfer this embryo because when we signed up for IVF, we decided that we were going to give every single one of our embryos the best chance at life. Obviously, transferring the embryo gives it a better chance than destroying it. We only have one embryo frozen but I feel especially heartbroken for the families that had 10, 12, or more embryos. You can make a whole family out of that many embryos. They are having to say goodbye to all of those children. I can't imagine it.


I also feel bummed that I will have to go through all of the shots, all of the monitoring, all of the side effects with very little to no potential for success. I keep reminding myself that it's the least we can do for this tiny baby, and secondly, God CAN do miracles of all sorts. I want to start praying that he will save this embryo but I haven't been able to yet. My faith feels really small and science feels really big in this situation.


Long before we knew that our remaining embryo had been damaged beyond repair, Andrew and I started talking about adopting embryos. When I bring up the idea in conversation, most people say, "I didn't know you could do that!" Yep. You can! I'll give you more information about the process at the end of this post. Back to our conversation with Dr. C...


Andrew and I were both thinking the same thing but he was the one to bring it up. He asked Dr. C if he would be willing to transfer an adopted embryo or two alongside our embryo free of charge. That way, since we had been considering embryo adoption anyways, the frozen transfer wouldn't be wasted. In some ways, it even felt like God was directing our path toward embryo adoption by turning something painful (a damaged embryo) into something wonderful (a free transfer for adopted embryos). Dr. C agreed to it right away and a little bit of hope poked its head into a bleak situation.


Soon after that conversation, I started doing my research. I talked to the agencies, read family profiles, and had a long discussion with Dr. C about the specifics of the process. Then we found the family. They had everything we wanted - a sufficient number of good quality embryos, the desire to stay involved in the lives of the children they were hoping to place in an adoptive home. They had been waiting ten years to find a family for these embryos. Can you imagine? For ten years, these babies have been frozen in time - not living here on earth, not enjoying heaven...just stuck. The sad truth is that part of the reason this family has been waiting so long is their ethnicity. They are African American and non-white embryos can be difficult to place. Ugh. I don't like truths like that.


We wrote our introduction letter and our profile. We agonized over the exact wording and debated which 15 pictures would be best to send. I'll admit that I was overconfident. They've been waiting ten years, I thought, They've got to pick us. Plus, we had everything they wanted.



College degrees? We both have master's degrees.

One child? Yep, Harriet's going to be a great big sister.

Christian home? Absolutely.

Married for five years? Check.

We don't put our kids in daycare.

Our extended families live nearby. 

Andrew's a nurse. 

I'm a family therapist.

Pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding all went smoothly with Harriet.


On paper, we looked really good. But after three weeks of waiting, the agency called to tell us that the family didn't want us. She said that they loved everything about us and had seriously considered moving forward with the adoption, but the thing that held them back was the fact that we still have an embryo left. They wanted their embryos to be the focus.


I wanted so badly to tell them that their embryos will be our focus, that we had already grieved our damaged embryo and were hoping to move forward wholeheartedly. But we had already said that stuff in our letter. The family had made their decision and it's their right to base that decision on what's important to them. I think I had talked myself into believing that these babies were our babies and that they had been waiting ten years for us. I was wrong. It was tough at the time and because no other family seemed like a good match, we stopped looking for a while.


A couple weeks ago, I checked the website again. There were a couple new families, looking to place their embryos in adoptive homes. We're toying with the idea of contacting the agency again to see whether one of these families would be interested in us. We just really love the idea of embryo adoption and don't want to lose sight of that goal.


Andrew and I both felt called to adoption before we even met. We view God’s command to take care of widows and orphans not as a suggestion but as a personal call to action. Why embryo adoption? We firmly believe that embryos are children with souls, just as valuable and worthy of life as a child who has already been born. But most people who are interested in adoption don’t realize that there are so many pre-born children out there, frozen in time and waiting for parents. Because we’ve lost children early in pregnancy, we understand how priceless those tiny lives are, and we want to use our experience to give embryos a chance. 


Want to learn more about embryo adoption? Here's my own quick list of FAQs. I got most of this info from conversations with doctors and people at the adoption agency. I am doing my very best to present this info accurately, but this isn't a research paper so if you want exact numbers and that sort of thing, google away.


Q: What is the difference between embryo adoption and embryo donation?
A: The terms are often used interchangeably but there are important differences. I've read articles saying that embryo adoption is a ploy to make more money off of the adoptive parents and push the pro-life agenda. I completely disagree. We like the embryo adoption model better than embryo donation because it allows the genetic family to choose the adoptive family. If we had embryos that we weren't able to transfer to my uterus for whatever reason, I certainly would want to handpick the family who got to parent them. With embryo donation, the doctor is usually the one to decide which embryos go to which family. Embryo adoption also allows for an open relationship between the genetic family and the adoptive family. Ideally, if we end up adopting embryos someday, we want our child's genetic parents and siblings to be very present in his or her life. We'd like to exchange updates, pictures, and even visit one another periodically. Studies have shown that open adoption is healthiest for the child because it gives him or her the opportunity to know people who share their genes and eventually ask important questions of his or her genetic parents.  I've heard it's possible to have an open embryo donation but this seems to be much less common. When you adopt embryos, you have to complete a home study, a matching period...basically all of the stuff a family goes through for a traditional adoption.



Q: How many embryos are out there, frozen, waiting for families?

A: hundreds of thousands



Q: Why would a family want to place their embryos in an adoptive home?

A: The IVF process can result in the creation of lots of embryos, but in most states, doctors prefer to transfer only one to three embryos at a time. The rest of the embryos can then be used by the couple, donated to science, destroyed, donated to another couple, or adopted by another couple. Some couples aren't able to use the embryos for whatever reason (their family already felt complete, financial issues, mom's health problems prevented her from being pregnant again, etc.) but they don't feel comfortable destroying the embryos or having them used in experiments and then destroyed. So they decide to terminate their rights to the embryos and give another couple the chance to birth and raise them. Genetic families do not receive any payment from agencies or adoptive families. 

Q: How does it work? 

A: After you're matched and all the legal stuff goes through, the embryos are shipped to the adoptive family's clinic (or the adoptive family travels to the embryos) and the embryos are transferred to the mom's uterus. It's called a frozen embryo transfer and is less invasive and complex than IVF. The mom is simply given drugs to prepare her uterus for a pregnancy. The FET is a painless procedure that doesn't require anesthesia. 

Q: What if the adoptive couple doesn't get pregnant?

A: It's a huge bummer because you've already spent the money on the legal fees (about $9000) and the transfer (about $4000). There are a lot of risks that come with infertility treatment. Embryo adoption is no different. 




ivf

Here's how IVF works. They give the "almost mom" medication (both pills and shots) to make her ovaries go into overdrive and make lots of eggs. During a normal cycle, a woman makes one or two eggs. During an IVF cycle, a woman can make several dozen. The shots aren't very fun. Some of the needles are very long and thick. I remember the progesterone shots being the worst. My husband was working full-time overnight shifts and going to school full-time during the day, so he was really, really tired during our IVF process. I would have to wake him up to give me the shots. The progesterone is thick like olive oil so it takes a long time for the medication to work its way through the needle and into the muscle. He would never want me to turn the lights on because he didn't want to fully awaken. It took a lot for me to trust this half-asleep man to give me a shot in the butt with a huge needle in the dark, but when you want a baby, almost nothing stands in your way. Once he was so tired that he only gave me half the medication and we had to start over. After that, I insisted on a little bit of light.

I think I made about 21 eggs but I can't remember exactly. During the egg growing stage, the "almost mom" goes in for several ultrasounds so the doc can count and measure the eggs. They schedule the egg retrieval for the optimal time, waiting long enough for the eggs to mature but not long enough for the ovaries to release the eggs on their own. The ovaries get HUGE. I looked like I was about five months pregnant and my waistline grew a full two inches in less than 24 hours. It's pretty uncomfortable but you live with it because the doctors tell you it's a good sign.

The egg retrieval is done under anesthesia. They use a big needle to extract the eggs one by one.

Not a cute picture. IVF isn't always cute...especially when you're waking up from surgery.

While this is going on, the "almost dad" makes his "deposit." During the IVF process, women have to cope with the lion's share of the responsibility, time commitment and physical discomfort. Men cope with most of the awkwardness. I guess I'm fine with that.

Now the doctors and lab people put the sperm and the egg together in one of two ways. Sometimes they just dump a pile of sperm on the egg and let the fastest swimmer win. Other times they do their best to handpick the Michael Phelps of the bunch and inject that one sperm into the egg. This all depends on sperm count and quality. We did option #1 because Andrew doesn't have any fertility issues, just me.

Transfer day. So excited!

Then you wait. A few days later, someone from the lab calls with an update on the embryos. (Sidenote: Pre-sperm, it's an egg. Post-sperm, it's an embryo.) They told us how many successfully fertilized (I think nine) and how many were growing (I think seven). A couple days later, they called again to tell us that we had three five-day blastocysts. Around day five, embryos change shape. They go from looking like a pile of bubbles to looking like a planet. The planet-looking embryo is a more stable form and they call it a blastocyst or "blast" if you're hip with the lingo. Your chances of success are higher with a five-day blast than with a three-day embryo. They also grade the quality of the embryos. I don't remember our exact grade but I think it was one level below the best.

One of these embryos in Harriet. The other is her twin who implanted in the lining of my uterus but died very soon after that.

We chose to transfer two embryos to my uterus and freeze one. (Embryos can be frozen indefinitely without affecting their quality.) The transfer is super easy. They give the 'almost mom" valium to relax her uterus, put her in the stirrups and squirt those teensy babies into the perfect spot where you hope and pray with all your might that they'll implant in the uterine lining and hang out there for the next nine months or so. Another sidenote: Doctors can't implant embryos into the uterine lining. They can only transfer them to the uterus. I'm sure some doctors somewhere are trying to figure out how to make embryos implant. But as of right now, embryos implant (or don't) on their own.

Then they send you home for two days of bed rest. During this time, you do all sorts of things to "increase your chances." You make this stuff up as you go and read into every little detail. You eat nachos because they are delicious and the baby or babies might decide to hang around to see what other delicacies you serve up. You watch happy movies so the babies don't get scared or anxious and bail. You avoid sitting up, walking and especially peeing to keep them from falling out (even though the doctors and nurses have assured you again and again that no one has ever peed out an embryo). You practice positive visualization. You pray. You try to keep your hope at the perfect level - too low and you might have a self-fulfilling prophecy on your hands, but too high and you might come crashing down if the pregnancy test is negative. I wish they could prescribe hope in the ideal dosage for infertility patients. That would be nice.

Then the real waiting starts. We had to wait about ten days for our pregnancy test. That was tough. Lots of people do pee tests before the official blood draw but we didn't. We just waited ten...long...days. Both Andrew and I took the day of the pregnancy test off. We tried to distract ourselves all morning. Dr. C called around 1:30. We were standing in our garage when he told us he had good news. That was a big moment. We hung up the phone and immediately thanked God, took our first belly pictures and planned how we were going to tell our families that night.

For us, IVF was an answer, a cure, a finish line, a beginning...a miracle. Will we do it again? I sure hope not. We just don't have the funds (our first IVF was about $16,000). So we're hoping something else will work. Something less expensive. But when it comes to infertility, less expensive is often still super expensive. So we'll just have to wait and see. We're just so grateful that we got to do IVF once...and that it worked.

joy of all joys

Late in 2010, we were a couple years and two losses deep into our infertility journey. We half-heartedly tried clomid again. They did an intrauterine insemination to increase our chances but our hope was dwindling. Infertility treatments started to consume our schedules and our energy, sometimes leaving us isolated and drained. We can’t explain why, but God began to restore our joy in February of 2011. Our energy started to return and we began to feel cautiously hopeful again. It was this little bit of hope that led us to pursue in vitro fertilization after a great deal of prayer, consultation, research, and conversation. The financial burden was great. The physical toll was challenging. And the ethics of the process seemed so gray. But we still felt a peace about our decision, an unwavering peace. 

The IVF process itself was quite an undertaking. We visited the clinic several times per week, underwent all sorts of tests, several procedures, and numerous injections. It was like having another full-time job. We feel so blessed to say that it was worth it. Harriet Grace was born on December 10^th, 2011, a day that held more joy for us than our hearts could contain.

We are so grateful to everyone who helped bring our daughter to us – reproductive endocrinologists, lab technicians, doctors, nurses, a doula, an acupuncturist, a support group, and especially all of our friends and family who stormed the gates of heaven on our behalf and prayed Harriet all the way into our arms.

Almost eight months later, we still have a hard time wrapping our minds around the fact that Harriet is real, that she’s ours, and that we have been given the opportunity to raise her and delight in her. Several times since Harriet’s arrival, we have pictured God, looking down on us over these past couple of years and saying, “I know it’s hard. I know this burden is really heavy. But Harriet’s coming and she’s going to be so, so great.”

God was right. Harriet is so, so great. She’s full of energy and joy. Her face lights up when she sees other babies, and our hearts jump in our chests as we imagine introducing her to her little brother or sister...someday.

So what's next? We talk about it all the time. We've discussed doing clomid again, adopting, adopting embryos, pursuing another round of IVF.... We keep hearing about those people who get pregnant on their own after having trouble conceiving their first. We sort of hate those people. We don't think we'll get to be part of that club. But maybe they didn't think it would happen to them either. Because I'm nursing, fertility drugs are out of the question for the time being. Part of me is grateful for that. It gives us a chance to fully enjoy Harriet and be present with her. But another part of me is itching to get started again. So we talk...and talk...and talk. We weigh the finances, the timing, our history of loss and success. And we keep a little bit of hope in our back pockets, knowing we're going to need it soon.