Our Fertility Story (So Far)

We had it all planned out. Start trying in January, in a month or two we’d be pregnant, and by Christmas we would have a beautiful baby. The timing would be perfect – Sash could start maternity leave in the school holidays, and I would have finished my PhD.

But that was in 2017 and it’s now 2020.

Things haven’t gone how we expected. How we hoped.

We don’t have a baby. We’re in the middle of IVF. We recently lost a baby.

This has definitely been the toughest experience of my life to date.

Before it All Began

After being married for a couple of years we began to get the questions and comments – “it must be about time you guys had a baby!”, “when do you think you’ll start your family?”. When we weren’t trying, these comments weren’t really of concern. They got a little annoying sure, but we couldn’t blame anyone.

I mean that’s what society expects right? You get married, then a few years later you have kids.

However, we got married young. We wanted some time together before we started a family. Plus, we got a dog after a year of being married. We already had a little family. So at this time we weren’t in any rush to have kids – we knew we wanted them, just not yet.

During this time we also had other focuses. We were both enjoying our jobs, building our careers. I had sporting and academic goals I was pursuing. Ideally I wanted to complete my PhD before we had kids.

But I knew I wanted kids before I was 30 – or at least before Sash turned 30 – because then I wouldn’t be an “old” dad, we wouldn’t be “old” parents.

Trying

When we decided we wanted to begin trying we had been married for seven years. I was 28, Sash was 27. We’d both been in our jobs for several years, we owned our own home, had recently been on a decent holiday together, and I was nearly finished my studies. The timing fit into our plan perfectly.

So we began to try for a baby. We followed advice on how often and what time of the month. We ensured we were eating well, and not over-doing it with our exercise. That is how we operate, my wife is a teacher and so she plans. I am a scientist, hence I follow the evidence. We both wanted to do everything we could to maximise our chances.

For the first few months, every time it got to “that time of the month” we would get a little excited. Especially if it was late. But every time we thought it might be the month, we’d soon be disappointed.

This begins to get to you after a while. While you still remain hopeful, you start to expect it won’t be. You start to wonder if perhaps you’re doing something wrong? Or perhaps there is something wrong?

Tests

After about nine months with no luck, we decided it was time to see if perhaps there was a reason for our struggles.

Initially Sash had some tests, progesterone day 21 to check she was ovulating. All good.

Then it was my turn.

A brief side note for any males reading this, I advise against producing your sample at the hospital. I did this because it seemed easier than keeping it at body temperature when transporting it, but I won’t make that mistake again. Let me put it this way, you never know the sounds and smells that will come from the cubicle beside you. It makes an already awkward experience that much worse!

Anyway, the results came back positive. Decent count and appearance, the motility was just a wee bit low.

Based on the test results, it was just a matter of waiting. We were both young, fit and healthy. Simply continue trying and it should happen.

Waiting

By this stage it was already a challenge every month when we again found out that we weren’t pregnant. That it wasn’t our month. Again.

What made this worse was it now seemed everyone around us was getting pregnant. Perhaps this was just the Baader – Meinhof effect in action, because pregnancy was on our mind we now became more aware of everyone else’s pregnancies. But it genuinely seemed like all our friends and family of similar ages to us were getting pregnant. Except us.

Now if you’re reading this and happened to be one of those who know us and got pregnant during this time. Please don’t feel bad. We are both genuinely happy for you. But it just reminds us of what we are not, which can be tough.

So please, be happy and celebrate it, because when it’s our turn we most definitely will! We want you to have that same joy we hope to one day have.

In our first year of trying, more than 10 other couples that we knew as friends or family were pregnant. Can you see why it seemed like everyone else was getting pregnant?

More Tests

It was after this 12-month mark that I think we genuinely started to think something must be wrong. That there must be some underlying cause. Questions had obviously entered our minds earlier, but a year is a significant length of time to be trying. When you combine that with the fact many people around us were getting pregnant, it made us question things even more seriously.

Because it seemed I had a good sperm count and fairly healthy swimmers, it appeared the only option was for my wife to have further tests.

Men, we have it pretty good. Our main test is simple and non-invasive. We produce a sample and they test it. If it seems all good, then it’s not likely to be your issue. If it’s not all good, then you’ve got a diagnosis and can move forward. Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware there are more invasive fertility tests (and procedures) men can go through – but in most cases these aren’t required.

But for females every test seems to be relatively invasive.

Taking blood with needles. Sash hates – well hated, she’s now pretty familiar with them – blood tests. Up until recently she would lie down for every blood test.

Scans. Having sonographers put wands in places that are meant to be private. Then proceed to move these around. It really doesn’t seem like much fun to me.

Again, all of the results came back normal. It was now just a matter of keep trying until we could have a funded appointment with the fertility specialists, that was if we still had no luck after 18-months.

We had no luck.

Our well thought out plans were long gone. We needed to see the specialists. We needed some help.

Fertility Associates

So after 18-months we had an appointment in Wellington with Dr Stegmann. Fair to say this was a nervous time for us.

What would they tell us? Did one of us have “a problem”? How would they know given that neither of our GP’s had observed anything unusual?

The clinic is pretty fancy. It’s like an upmarket office, but it’s a health clinic, it didn’t make a lot of sense to me. However, my main experiences of hospitals were public hospitals, only once had I been in a private hospital – but this was a lot nicer.

I remember looking around the walls, at the various pieces of art. It was a bit strange to see pictures of sperm and eggs all around the place. Then again, it’s a fertility clinic.

Another Test, for Me?

Once we got into the appointment. Dr Stegmann ran through our most recent results. I believe he said we were a “strange case” as most things appeared normal.

However, there was one thing that raised his suspicions. He noted that although I had a normal spent count, and the morphology wasn’t a problem, the motility being a little low which raised his suspicions that I may have antisperm antibodies.

The test wasn’t covered by public funding – I’m assuming it’s because it’s uncommon – and their lab is one of the few with capabilities to test for it. To be tested for it, I had to provide a sample while in the clinic.

At least there is an appropriate room for this at the clinic! Although a bit odd being in a room that clearly has one purpose, it surpassed the hospital toilet experience I’d had earlier.

A Short Wait

After providing the sample it was time for another wait. This time a much shorter wait. Our appointment was in the morning and we should know the result by the mid-afternoon.

I’m not going to lie. My confidence levels were pretty high that this would come back fine. I’ve no idea why I thought that way – I just didn’t expect this test to tell us anything new.

I was wrong.

They told us that usually if someone had a result surpassing 50% then that can potentially impact fertility. It turns out my score was 100%.

Side note: I actually don’t know what the percentages mean. I’m assuming it’s a percentage of sperm with these antibodies attached, although I could well be wrong.

It’s My Fault

When we found this out we cried. I feel like most of the drive home that day we cried.

I felt to blame. I felt like it was all my fault. I had the issue. I was the problem.

It’s really hard in this situation. As every test had pointed to the fact that there were no issues with Sasha’s fertility. She had the all clear. So how could I not feel responsible?

It’s a fact that even now I struggle with. I sometimes feel like my wife’s life would be easier without me. Because this journey has been a rough one.

I understand that these thoughts aren’t helpful. But they’re what passes through my mind. I’m just being honest.

The benefit of all of this was that we had answers. It meant we could be prioritised and that we could have a plan going forward. With public funding this result meant we get moved up the line. Essentially, because we are unlikely to conceive naturally, they prioritise our treatment.

The Wait List

It’s a funny thing when you’re trying to conceive. You firstly wait each month. Then it’s the wait for test results. Next comes the wait for your specialist appointment. And finally you’re added to the wait list.

We were told that given our position on this list, we’d likely have a 12–18 month wait before starting any treatment. Considering we’d been waiting 18-months to date this was a rather bitter pill to swallow. Although at least we now had a plan again.

It is fair to say that one thing you gain from this journey is patience. It isn’t a fast process.

After this news we calculated that that would put us – at the earliest – around mid-2019. Two and a half years after we first began to “try”.

We’d long since surpassed those initial plans we had. My PhD was long since finished, multiple school holidays had come and gone, and I would be thirty before we even started treatment. Turns out I would be that “old dad”.

The In-between

For the next 12-months things carried on. Life doesn’t wait around for you, each day just keeps coming.

We held on to some hope that perhaps we may be one of the “lucky ones”. The couples that are told they are unlikely to conceive naturally and will need IVF, but then a “miracle” happens. We had heard stories of this. However, this wasn’t to be.

More people we knew got pregnant, some with the second baby within the same period we’d been trying for. It was around this time that for me these pregnancies definitely become tougher to hear about. I felt responsible that my wife couldn’t experience the joy these mothers-to-be were experiencing.

I think that was the worst part for me during this time. The fact that I felt like I was holding Sash back from something she really wanted, and I couldn’t provide – at least not without medical intervention.

Thankfully, we heard from the clinic a little earlier than anticipated, and around May-2019 we were told we were nearing the top of the wait list. It was time for the wheels to start turning again.

IVF Begins

If I thought that Sash had been through enough early on in this process, I was about to realise that it gets worse.

Prior to beginning IVF, you have a visit to the clinic to be shown how to administer the injections. I mentioned earlier that Sash is not a fan of needles, this meant it would be up to me to administer the injections. So I made sure I knew exactly what had to be done. I didn’t want to make it any worse than it would be.

You leave the clinic with a lot of drugs. We had three different medications, a whole lot of needles and a sharps bin. Not your typical haul from a trip to Wellington, but it was a bag containing a lot of expensive products.

Injections

Timing is critical with fertility treatment, and we had specific instructions for when to administer each medication. So as the day approached for the first injection, I had to brush up on what the nurse had said.

I watched a few videos and was fairly confident I had it all on lock, but I still had no idea on what the reaction would be like. Did I mention that Sash doesn’t like needles?

The first one was definitely the worst – for both of us. She was nervous about the injection and I was nervous I would do it wrong and hurt her. After a bit of build up and a few nervous starts, we got it done. It wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be, but it was weird for me when I pulled the needle out and the skin seeming to want to stay with the needle – perhaps because I was overcautious and removing it too slowly.

Injections soon became the norm. For the next week and a bit, every night before bed, we’d go through this process. For a few days there were even multiple injections. It was a bit funny to think about the difference between when I was administering the first injection vs. the final trigger injection – it just seemed routine!

Lots of Eggs

Periodically, as the injections are being administered, scans have to be performed. The doctors need to monitor the follicles that are maturing.

This process is one of those invasive ones. Again, one where I – as the male involved in the process – just have to try and be supportive. But in reality, I have no idea exactly what that means! For me, it was trying to be there for every appointment that I could.

So over this time of periodically checking on the development, scans end up happening every few days. From these scans the clinic tells you when to change it up with medications doses and types, and when take the trigger. It’s an important component of the process.

Thankfully, all went well this round in terms of producing the eggs. It turns out they went a lot better than normal (aside from the risk of ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome) around 30 follicles matured.

Now just seeing these images on a screen doesn’t do justice to what it feels like to have these inside you. I remember my wife describing it as a bowling ball in your tummy, by the size and scale of them that makes sense. As she ended up with around 30 of the marble sized follicles (most from 20–30mm in diameter) in her ovaries.

So going into our appointment at the clinic to “harvest” the eggs, we were both pretty positive. So far phase one of the process had been successful.

But now came a very scary part for Sash, surgery to extract the eggs.

Egg Collection

This was definitely the part I think she was most nervous for. As it was an invasive procedure.

Essentially what the procedure involves is a doctor using a needle connected to a vacuum to suck out the eggs from the mature follicles. So the doctor must push the needle through the vaginal wall and, using an ultrasound to guide them, retrieve the eggs from each of the follicles.

Prior to the procedure, I had to go to the special “men’s room” to produce my sample. This would be the sperm the doctors would use to fertilise the retrieved eggs soon after collection.

Again, as the male getting the easy job…

Following that, it was back to the waiting room with Sash. This is a strange place. A whole lot of little cubicles, partitioned by temporary room dividers. In each cubicle a couple waits for – or recovers from – a procedure.

It’s strange to be in such a place. You know everyone there has experienced something you have. For whatever reason, they’ve had to undergo fertility treatment. So although it is an odd place, you almost feel a bit connected to those around you. Because you know they understand how you feel.

I don’t recall whether we had to wait for long. I just remember wishing there was something I could do to help. But again, I simply had to be there.

The Harvest

I call this section the harvest because, as we knew from the prior ultrasounds, there were a lot of eggs to collect.

The worst bit seemed to be near the start, as the needle was pushed through the vaginal wall and into one of the ovaries, although the whole procedure appeared to be uncomfortable. As you can imagine, moving a needle around inside of someone is unlikely to be a fun experience – but anaesthetic does do amazing things.

It was a bit surreal to watch the ultrasound, the doctor moving a giant needle around inside your wife. Sucking out these little dots in the hope of collecting an egg.

All the while I held Sasha’s hand and tried my best to comfort her. One of the nurses also did a fantastic job of this, talking to her throughout the procedure. Even the doctor was able to keep some humour during the event (you’ll have to ask Sash to share that story), which my sedated wife didn’t remember until afterwards when I recalled the story to her!

Overall they collected 27 eggs, yes twenty seven. Given that, they made the call that this would be a “freeze all” cycle – meaning the eggs that were fertilised (and grew to become embryos) would be frozen and transferred the next cycle.

This was to avoid the risk of ovarian hyper-stimulation syndrome. A condition that can be very serious. This simply would mean an additional month before an embryo would be transferred. We were used to waiting by now, so one month didn’t seem like a big deal. Especially if it meant Sasha’s body was able to recover.

First Phase Success

Twenty seven eggs was definitely a success. It meant we were likely to end up with more fertilised eggs, assuming good quality eggs were harvested.

In the end, we had 13 of these eggs successfully fertilised. Going back to the reason for our fertility treatments, each of these eggs had to undergo intracytoplasmic sperm injection – known as ICSI for short. This procedure involves the injection of a sperm cell directly into the egg. This was required because the antibodies can prevent sperm being able to successfully fertilise the eggs on their own, even if they were to make it to the egg.

About five days later we got the news that of the 13 fertilised, six had made it to the embryo stage.

This was massive for us, normally two or three embryo’s is considered a success. We had six! This meant if anything was to go wrong we, to put it bluntly, had some additional “chances”.

So our six little embryos were then frozen. This is something that to this day plays with my mind. That if we end up with multiple babies from this round, all of them were conceived at the same time. Does that technically make them the same age?

Embryo Transfer

Yet another invasive procedure for Sash, although this one a lot faster and far less painful than the last.

We made the decision that prior to the transfer we would be as relaxed as possible, so for us this meant travelling to the region early (all our treatments take place around 2-hours travel from our home) and staying somewhere nice. We put aside some funds for this, and in the future will aim to do the same. It at least makes a somewhat scary and nervous time a little more fun.

We arrived early and again went to the same waiting room with the many cubicles. We were told that it was a great quality embryo they would be transferring. Hopefully this meant a greater chance of success!

We were also informed that this procedure would be fast, and they weren’t wrong.

In a matter of minutes after we entered the operating room we were done. They had placed the embryo in and we were assured it was like a “seed in a jam sandwich” – that it couldn’t just “fall out”.

It was done.

There was an embryo in Sasha’s womb. It was our embryo.

Technically, she was pregnant. Unfortunately, we would have to wait nine long days to find out if it had in fact been a success.

The Call

During the nine days, you shouldn’t take a regular pregnancy test. Apparently it’s possible to get a false result. So we waited.

I believe it was a Friday afternoon. Sash had missed a call from the clinic earlier in the day. She wanted to wait until we were together to take the call, so that meant after school.

I picked her up after school. I wanted her to call the clinic straight away but she wanted to wait until we got home. So we waited.

We were both completely terrified, yet hopeful, as we listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. It seemed like we kept getting stalled, confirming patient details, them making absolutely sure they were talking to the right patient about the right results.

Then came the best news we could have hoped for – phase two was a success.

My wife was pregnant.

Like actually pregnant.

Something we hadn’t seen on any pregnancy test ever. More than two and a half years of hoping for this result. It seemed unreal, like it couldn’t be true.

But it was. Two and a half years later and my wife was pregnant. We were thrilled! Nervous about this new stage, but so excited.

Pregnancy

When you’ve been trying for this long, it is hard news to keep to yourself. Over the next few weeks we did our best to not tell too many people – but we did talk to a number of family and friends about it.

How could we not though? We’d also been fairly open in talking to those who were close to us about our IVF journey, a number of family and friends knew and so after a few weeks passed a few people knew.

However we were cautious. We wanted to wait until we at least saw the heartbeat before we told too many people. But after the scan when we saw the heartbeat, the majority of those close to us had been told the news. They knew that Baby P, as we’d named them, was on its way!

Did I mention we saw the heartbeat? For me this was a really emotional event. I had been so nervous before this scan. As I’d said earlier – it seemed like it couldn’t be true. But seeing the little heart beating during the scan was unreal.

When we were talking with Sasha’s parents on the phone after this scan I was sitting there simply holding back the tears. It was right before work and I didn’t want to be trying to explain this to all my students! But it was one of the happiest mornings of my life.

The baby we had hoped for for so long had a beating heart. Baby P was healthy and growing!

This scan changed my whole mindset. I went from super nervous – thinking it was almost too good to be true – to full of excitement for this journey of pregnancy. I was going to be a Dad.

No More Fertility Clinic Visits

Not too long after this scan we were essentially discharged from Fertility Associates. We’d made it past the early phases of pregnancy when we were under their care, we were now essentially finished with the clinic.

(I say essentially as Sash had the transfer on a “manufactured cycle“ and so they were still responsible for her having enough medication. Rather annoying medication for Sash, but I’ll spare you those details)

This meant it was time to find a midwife. We had initial appointments, were given a pregnancy pack, and informed of many aspects of pregnancy and childbirth.

I couldn’t believe this was actually real! We were going to be parents. We were going to have a baby!

Over the next few weeks we also began to tell a few more people. When we hit eight to nine weeks the majority of those who knew about our need for IVF also knew we were expecting Baby P.

Sash had even bought a letter peg board as she began to plan how we might announce the news. Now that we were almost at twelve weeks, the time people often publicly share news of their pregnancy, she’d begun to get excited for sharing our news.

Blood

Early in the weekend Sash noticed a little bit of blood. Nothing major, just a small amount.

But on Saturday night she noticed it had gotten worse. A decent amount of blood had been lost. She feared the worst and was crying. I began to cry.

We quickly rang the midwife. But it turned out our midwife wasn’t working this weekend, so our call went to her associate.

She assured us that bleeding can occur during this phase, that it is unlikely to be anything major (due to the amount of blood passed and the consistency of it). Although we were told the chances were slim that we had lost our baby, the chances were not zero.

If significant amounts of blood were lost then we were advised to go to A&E, but otherwise we would need to wait until a scan on Monday.

We collected ourselves and chatted to some family about it. Again, most of this was pretty reassuring.

My scientist mind liked the fact that the numbers were on our side, along with the fact the bleeding was fresh and not what would be expected with a miscarriage. I remained positive.

The Scan

As my confidence was high prior to the scan, I went into work as normal on Monday morning. Intending to simply leave work for the scan, then head back to the office.

I met Sash outside the radiography clinic and we went in together. Of course we knew several people in the waiting room that day – right at the time you don’t want to chat, there’s someone right there that you know.

As we went in to the scan, it was reassuring to know we knew the sonographer. In fact, we’d recently told them we were expecting. So we knew for sure they would be thorough.

It was only a matter of moments after they began to scan that my heart began to sink. You could just tell something wasn’t right. I don’t know if it was because conversation stopped or if it was a look in their eye. But I knew something was wrong.

Looking at the scan, the flutter I’d seen in the previous scan wasn’t there. I tried to tell myself that perhaps as the baby gets bigger the flutter in colour can’t be seen on the screen. Or perhaps it was the wrong angle? Anything I could to try convince myself it wasn’t going to be bad news.

Then came those three words… “I’m so sorry”.

Writing this now, months after this moment, my eyes still well up. I still shed tears.

We lost our baby.

The baby was at the size expected after nine weeks when it should have been at eleven weeks. There was no heartbeat.

Baby P was dead.

The Worst Morning of My Life

We cried for a while in the ultrasound room. I then had to head across the road to work, I grabbed what I needed and got out of there as fast as I could.

I’ve never experienced someone mourning like I did my wife that day. It broke my already shattered heart.

As I approached our car I could hear my wife wailing in the car. It was a sound I wish I never had to hear. The pain in her cry. It crushed me.

Driving home I had to try to hold myself together. All I wanted to do was burst into tears, but I had to get us home safely first.

Meanwhile my wife cried so hard she was struggling to breath. For a moment I feared I might lose my wife too – I had to try calm her enough to take in some air.

Immediately after we got home I moved anything to do with pregnancy or the baby into a box in the spare room. I didn’t want my wife to have to see these things and be reminded of it all.

Then I sat down on the couch and I cried. I cried as I sent messages to family and friends who we’d told we were pregnant. I cried as I took phone calls from family and friends.

We lost our baby. The baby we had hoped for so long for.

Decisions

After getting home we got a call from our midwife. She was extremely comforting, assuring Sasha that nothing we did contributed to this, and cried with her.

We were also informed we would need to go to the hospital and see the women’s health doctors. The staff here were fantastic. Both the nurses and the doctors treated us with sensitivity and care.

We had three options – D&C (an operation), take some medication, or wait it out. Each had certain risks. Sash asked my thoughts and we discussed it, eventually deciding upon the medication.

Later that evening, after a bit of cramping pain, Sash passed the baby. She managed to catch it in a container, which after looking at she immediately handed to me.

As I looked into the container I saw our baby. I could see it’s tiny head, and make out arms and legs.

That was meant to be our baby. That was Baby P. But they were gone.

As I broke into tears my brother and his wife arrived. Still holding the container in my hand and with tears in my eyes, I opened the gate to let them in.

As they embraced me I sobbed saying “our baby… we lost our baby”.

Support

Although having to tell people that knew about our situation – that we’d lost our baby – was incredibly hard, the support we got through this time was unbelievable.

Family and friends came to support us, they brought us food and flowers, and sent us messages of support. Our small group from church even prepared us meals for the week. The love we felt from those around us was nothing short of amazing.

For me this shows the invaluable benefit of having people close to you to support you. If you’re going through something difficult I strongly suggest talking to someone. Whether a family member, close friend or a counsellor (heck, we utilised all of those). You’ll be surprised how much of a difference it can make to talk.

Goodbye Baby P

At the end of that week. We did something to say goodbye to Baby P.

My Nana had given us an in loving memory rose, and we’d bought a pot to plant it in. We buried Baby P in a small wooden coffin that my Father in-law had made for us, underneath the rose bush.

Just Sasha and I. Together. Saying goodbye to our baby.

A poem written by my wife after we lost Baby P:

Turbulent and trying

The death of a dream

Incredibly common

So often unseen….

The Future

We still have five more embryos from our first round of IVF. We have hope.

However, we also know the pain when that hope fails. We are scared.

But we have a dream of one day holding our baby in our arms. So we have to walk into this fear.

After a few months, Sasha’s body is back to normal and we’ve had a chance to just enjoy being “us” again. Without the constant thoughts of fertility treatment.

We now look to face that fear again. We still have plenty of hope, and so we’ll continue to walk through this journey, together.