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I Was a Mom, Even if Just for a Moment
As I prepared to climb into those high-tech stirrups for yet another round of tests that might confirm my already shaky fertility status, the doctor — a face I wasn’t familiar with — asked me, “So, you’ve experienced a couple of losses, right?”
I replied, “Well, I had a chemical pregnancy in May, and our first IVF didn’t take.”
He then said, “Okay, so yes, you’ve had a loss.”
Oof. The term “loss.” Hearing it out loud hit differently. Until that moment, I had been thinking of my experience as just a chemical pregnancy, but I hadn’t fully grasped that it was indeed a loss — a miscarriage. It was a very early one, but still, a loss.
Maybe it was the term “chemical pregnancy” that made me hesitate to acknowledge my feelings. Perhaps I thought my emotions didn’t warrant validation if I voiced how deeply I felt about losing our first and only baby.
But as I reflected, he was right. That tiny, 4-week-and-2-day-old embryo had made me a mom.
When I learned that our second IVF attempt had succeeded, I suddenly became hyper-aware of everything I was doing — what I ate, how much I stood, and whether I was getting enough sleep. I found myself contemplating the prospect of actually having a little one growing inside me. I even started thinking about what I would do at work if I went into labor in January, despite a nagging feeling that things might not turn out well.
My hCG beta levels were low, and the reality was that everything could change by that upcoming Tuesday. This was the Friday before Mother’s Day, and I caught myself wondering if I would still be a mother come Sunday. Those in the know wished me a “Happy Mother’s Day,” and my husband surprised me with a plant to celebrate my new role that day.
I munched on pickles as if it were my job. I felt some symptoms I hadn’t experienced before, alongside a positive beta test. Sure, at just 4 weeks, there weren’t many symptoms to speak of, but it didn’t matter; I savored the experience. Whether they were just side effects of the progesterone shots we IVF patients endure, I couldn’t tell, but they felt like pregnancy signs to me.
In those brief moments between that Friday and the following Tuesday, I knew I was pregnant. I began to feel like a mom. Of course, there were signs pointing otherwise, but pregnancy is a mysterious thing. One moment, something seems significant — and the next, it might mean nothing at all. A bit of bleeding that weekend had me clutching my husband’s hand, tears in his eyes, but I still held on to hope that I could remain a mom.
After my recent clinic appointment, I got to my car and broke down. The tears streamed endlessly. Maybe it was the pain from the test or the realization that I had indeed experienced a pregnancy loss. I had clung to hope for three weeks, really, since I had been carrying that embryo since day two of conception. That’s the beauty of IVF — you get to see your baby at just 2 days old.
That was enough. It was enough to grieve for the baby that was and the baby that could have been. Hearing that word from the doctor stung, but in a way, it was also a relief. It helped me remember: for a moment, I was a mom.
You are a mom too.
For more on the journey of home insemination, check out this excellent resource. If you’re interested in the tools of the trade, BabyMaker has some great kits available. For insights into privacy and user experience, refer to our policy.
In summary, the emotional rollercoaster of trying to conceive through IVF can be overwhelming. A seemingly simple word like “loss” can bring clarity to feelings we may overlook. While the journey is filled with uncertainty, it reminds us of the profound connection that can exist, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment.