We Will Never Feel Complete
“Your body isn’t responding as it should; we may need to consider using an egg donor.” There I sat, in front of a doctor I had entrusted with my hopes and finances for an entire year. My husband waited outside in the car amidst the second wave of Covid-19, unable to join me for this crucial appointment. Alone, I absorbed the heavy news.
I had just completed my second IVF cycle, which yielded one embryo that, unfortunately, came back abnormal after genetic testing. From the moment I understood reproduction, I was taught it should be avoided. I started taking birth control at 13 and continued on and off for 11 years. By the time my husband and I felt financially stable and ready for a child, I confidently tossed the pills aside, fully expecting to be pregnant within a month. After all, we’ve been led to believe, “It only takes one time,” as my doctor would say. Yet here I am, after countless attempts, still waiting.
We do have a wonderful little boy, conceived with the help of Clomid after six months of trying. It wasn’t until we attempted to expand our family that I learned I had Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), secondary infertility, and my husband struggled with low morphology. This diagnosis hit me like a punch to the gut. Every woman I know shares this fear: that something is wrong with their eggs. I’ve always been prone to anxiety and have contemplated therapy, but finding time has been a challenge. During our first attempt to conceive, those haunting thoughts started to plague me: “It’s your fault.” “There’s something wrong.” “You were on birth control for too long.” I never imagined this would be my reality.
The diagnosis of DOR was devastating. It meant my egg reserve was alarmingly low. While pregnancy is still possible, it complicates conception and indicates I’m depleting my eggs faster than average for my age. My AMH level matched that of a woman in her mid-30s or early 40s when I was only 27. This was the same age my mother was when she had me. I had faced some fertility issues when conceiving my son at 24, but this was the first time I was informed of my DOR. I began taking the recommended supplements and vitamins and entered a determined mindset, willing to defy the odds.
Take Charge of Your Reproductive Health
Here’s my advice to all women: have your AMH levels checked! Do it now, even if you’re not planning to have kids immediately. You never know what’s happening inside your body. I had no symptoms or signs of DOR—my periods were always regular and on time.
Before my consultation with a Reproductive Endocrinologist, my husband and I had been trying to conceive for seven months. In the eighth month, I reached out to my OB for a little help from Clomid. After my first dose, I was overjoyed to find out I was pregnant. I immediately began planning for our second child. Sadly, two weeks later, I suffered a miscarriage.
I was heartbroken but persevered. Two more months passed with the aid of Clomid, but nothing happened. That’s when we decided to consult an RE and received the challenging diagnosis. The initial plan was to try IUIs, which my insurance covered. Each month, I took Clomid, underwent monitoring appointments, and triggered ovulation with Ovidrel. After each insemination, I felt a surge of confidence, believing I would soon be pregnant. This optimism continued through the second, third, fourth, and fifth attempts.
Eventually, it was time to consider IVF—something I never envisioned doing. I was unfamiliar with the process or the costs involved, but I was ready to give it a try. The day I was set to start my medication, I went for an early morning monitoring appointment. I anxiously awaited approval to begin, but instead, my doctor called to inform me I was pregnant. He suspected it wasn’t a normal pregnancy due to my low hormone levels. He was right; three weeks later, I miscarried.
At that point, I was done with uncertainty. IVF felt like my only option. We signed the necessary papers, made the financial commitment, and began the medication. Two weeks later, during my retrieval, I learned only seven eggs had been retrieved, which was disappointing but not uncommon for someone with my condition. A week later, we discovered none of the embryos had survived. Devastated, I pushed forward.
We immediately embarked on our second IVF cycle. Needles, bloodwork, appointments, and emotional ups and downs followed. Finally, retrieval day arrived. This time, my doctor reported retrieving eight eggs—not the news I hoped for, but still one more than before. A week later, we learned that only one embryo reached the blastocyst stage and would undergo genetic testing. I felt a mix of hope and realism regarding its chances.
When the results came back, I was crushed to find out that our only embryo was abnormal and would not result in a healthy baby. Each setback felt like a miscarriage; every fertilized embryo was a part of us, a potential life. After each retrieval, waking up with empty arms felt like losing a piece of our family. I knew IVF wasn’t guaranteed, and while I held onto hope, the repeated failures felt like a dead end.
Facing the Reality of Our Challenges
After seeking a second opinion, new tests were conducted, including an HSG and biopsy. Although the biopsy showed no signs of endometriosis, it did reveal a polyp in my uterus that required removal. They recommended laparoscopy and hysteroscopy surgery. My initial doctor had suggested this too, but I wasn’t ready until now. I always wondered if something was amiss inside, perhaps a blockage or leftover tissue from previous miscarriages.
I agreed to the surgery, and upon waking, I was informed that while the polyp wasn’t present, stage 2 and 3 endometriosis had been discovered and removed. I had no signs or symptoms of endometriosis, and even the biopsy had been negative. Without this surgery, I would have remained unaware of my condition.
The reality that both my husband and I face reproductive challenges weighs heavily on us. It feels like our options and resources are dwindling, leaving us with little more than the hope for a miracle baby—the kind we’ve only heard about or seen on TV. I am incredibly grateful for my beautiful son; he is my world, and I cherish every moment with him. My deepest wish has always been to give him a sibling, but if that’s not in the cards, I will dedicate my life to his happiness. He may be spoiled and stubborn, but he will be loved deeply and will know how hard we fought for him to have a built-in best friend.
While we have one more IVF cycle covered by insurance, we’re hesitant to proceed, knowing the outcomes we’ve faced. It’s a constant internal struggle to be thankful for my son while yearning for another child. Sometimes, I feel unworthy to call myself infertile because I have one child, yet I watch others move forward as I sit here, waiting for the next chapter of our story. I dream of a busy household filled with laughter, toys strewn about, and the chaos of sibling rivalry. I want it all.
I harbor anger towards my body for not functioning as it should. I feel frustrated that I can provide my son with everything he desires—travel, toys, and experiences—but I can’t give him a sibling. We will never truly feel complete in our quest for a second child. We refuse to give up. We will continue to fight.
For those navigating similar paths, consider checking out this informative blog post about home insemination. It’s an invaluable resource for anyone looking to explore their options. Additionally, Make A Mom offers insights and support for those interested in at-home insemination. Another helpful resource is Facts About Fertility, which provides comprehensive information about fertility issues.
Summary
This article recounts a woman’s emotional journey with diminished ovarian reserve (DOR) and her husband’s low morphology as they face challenges in expanding their family. Despite having one beautiful son, they grapple with feelings of incompleteness and the toll of repeated IVF cycles. The narrative emphasizes the importance of awareness regarding reproductive health issues and offers resources for couples experiencing similar struggles.