My Infertility Story: Part 2

Very low AMH, a failed IVF cycle, and a third miscarriage

The bleeding increased and the scan confirmed that we were losing our third pregnancy, this time after IVF. So much effort, pain, hope, and money we don’t have, all gone. I wanted the nurse to leave us alone, but she sat and stared. Alexis and I cried, a familiar cry, and held each other close in the exam room. And the lights were turned way down on the world again.

“We need to take a blood sample now.” the nurse repeated, dryly. It’s not her fault, she probably has compassion fatigue working in an IVF clinic. I hadn’t heard her the first time through the whomping in my ears. But I knew the drill; I would have to keep getting my blood drawn to follow my pregnancy hormone level back down to zero, an extra ‘fuck you’ when you’re having a miscarriage - that it takes time to stop being pregnant and it’s not until your cycle restarts that you can start to recover.

Six months earlier Alexis and I moved from Atlanta to Gothenburg, giving us the fresh start we hoped would bring us better luck. However, I still wasn’t getting pregnant, so we pursued IVF. We were surprised to learn that it usually doesn’t work the first time and doesn’t necessarily increase your odds, but what choice did we have at this point but to try?

It took a frustratingly long time to get started. We tried to get free IVF via the pubic system, but were turned down due to the long queue and the fact that I may turn 40 before it’s our turn! A whole year away. So I researched private clinics and we went to the one with the best reviews.

We transferred our tests from the US, but I still needed an HSG to be sure there wasn’t a blocked fallopian tube and to check my uterine environment. They inserted a dye in my uterus and ovaries, which is VERY uncomfortable and painful, especially since they don’t use anesthesia much in Sweden. I passed the test with flying colors, but more tests revealed that I have a very low AMH and follicle count, more normal for a woman in her early 40s. Faantastic. With Alexis’ not great sperm count, these factors combined can explain our difficulty in achieving and maintaining pregnancies.

One of the first cultural lessons to learn in Sweden is that having patience is a must. Things. Take. Time. It’s really really (really) hard to be patient when it comes to infertility, especially when you don’t feel like you have a lot of time and you just want to start your family and your life! Sweden shuts down in July for vacations, so we were pushed until September 2023 before we could start IVF.

IVF sucks, truly. Alexis gave me two injections in my stomach every evening that burned like hell. These drugs make your egg follicles swell to hopefully create many eggs at once to be then taken from your body and into a lab. But things didn’t get any easier for us. I responded poorly, so they increased the dosage and kept me on the shots longer than usual. After an indescribably painful egg retrieval, (again, no anesthesia, I mean it was really really bad) we only got four eggs. You hope to retrieve as many as possible because most will not make it to become embryos.

Then it was time for more waiting. We beat the odds by getting two out of four blastocysts! But even embryos that look good and test well don’t guarantee a pregnancy or prevent a miscarriage. Unfortunately, nothing does.

So they transferred one of those pretty embryos in my uterus (they don’t do two at a time in Sweden) and we waited two weeks to see if I got pregnant. I also had to insert these annoying progesterone suppositories three times/day for weeks. But I did get pregnant! We held our breath, but felt okay about mustering up a smidgen of hope again.

About a week later, I started spotting. Maybe a bit more than that? The doctor told me this can be normal and we couldn’t do an ultrasound for another week or two. We had an early appointment with a midwife, but I was in no mood to hear “nutrition while pregnant” advice because the only thing on my mind was that I was probably miscarrying again. I remember being in the waiting room with a woman rocking her newborn and feeling my heart ache.

I had recently started a job and had to attend a work conference in Nice. I had to hide it all; the pregnancy, my paralyzing fear that I was slowly miscarrying and, not to mention, my pregnancy pains and fatigue. It was scary to fly away from Alexis and be so far from him during all this, but I gathered up all my strength and got through it the best I could. I sipped water and faked a smile while my coworkers let loose and drank delicious French wine all around me. I was highly stressed and miserable, sure that yet another pregnancy was failing - and I was right.

On that gray October day that seemed dimmer somehow, Alexis and I walked home from the clinic, passing parents with strollers and little kids on bikes. Hand-in-hand, we shared few words. What is there to say? Why is this our life? Why is what is supposed to be the most natural thing in the world the hardest thing for some people? It’s not fair. I’m grateful that we have each other, but it’s just not fair.

We had one more embryo in the freezer to try, but what happened next pushed that off to January 2024 (and I didn’t get pregnant anyway).

To be continued…