The Journey to Quinn
First, thank you for being here. To share this with y’all, is to share something sacred. So thank you for taking part in honoring our journey and our miracle… Quinn.
I’ve been putting off writing this for quite sometime. While this is ultimately a journey of perseverance and triumph, it’s also one of utter heartbreak. What we went through this second time around was traumatic, both physically and emotionally and I still am still am processing everything that happened over that 8 months. Honestly, therapy should come with infertility treatments…
That being said, I recognize how very lucky we are that while this journey was brutal, we had our big girl. Our first miracle girl, Charlie. Without her, I don’t know if I could have endured it. I’ve never told anyone this, but I would bring a sock of hers to appointments and squeeze it in my pocket to give me strength and ground me in the peace that she brings.
If you aren’t familiar with our story, we currently have a two and a half year old daughter that we conceived after out first infertility journey. You can read all about that here. We had no idea then, that we would have a harder road ahead to make her a big sister.
Here goes.
Time for #2
Charlie had just turned one. While that celebration was so magical, it also carried a weight. One that I had been pushing in the back of my heart and mind since the day Charlie was born….it was time to proceed with number two.
This requires me to back up a little bit and share something else I haven’t before. In addition to the precious embryo that was Charlie, we also had another embryo from that cycle. While we were beyond grateful for two embryos, our doctor was surprised that someone of my age and health at the time of our IVF (32) didn’t have more based on the number of eggs that were retrieved- a whopping 34.
To those that aren’t familiar, there’s a drop off in numbers at every step of IVF:
- The number of eggs retrieved.
- The number of eggs retrieved that are mature.
- The number of mature eggs that fertilize.
- The number of fertilized eggs that will grow to become blastocysts.
- Then a number of blastocysts that pass genetic testing, (should you opt for that)
TWO embryos, however, are still TWO chances at human life and is nothing to scoff at. It only takes one, as you will learn more later on in this story.
Upon getting pregnant with our first embryo (Charlie), the other one remained frozen. Frozen in time, literally. It’s such an odd feeling knowing your potential future child is in a freezer somewhere. And I carried the weight and pressure of that frozen embryo as long as it was in existence. Our doctor initially advised that we transfer that embryo 6 months to a year after Charlie was born, as I have endometriosis and we wanted to maximize the time before it could grow back. But, I was nowhere near emotionally ready to start that process when Charlie was 6 months old. I was busy soaking up EVERY second with her. I knew there was the potential that we may never have another child and I didn’t want to miss precious moments because I was stressing about IVF. Moreover, I wasn’t ready to stop breastfeeding- and you can’t be on the meds required to transfer an embryo and nurse.
Nursing her was so very precious to me.
So when Charlie turned one, we knew it was time to proceed. To be honest, I wasn’t fully, emotionally ready. I still wasn’t ready to stop nursing and I was terrified to open my heart back up to all that goes with an embryo transfer. But endometriosis felt like a ticking time bomb and I didn’t want to wait until I would need another surgery to clear it. So I weaned Charlie, which was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and we began to prepare.
The Transfer
I followed the same protocol that I did with Charlie. My uterus looked great and we were really hopeful…. After all, IVF worked like a charm with Charlie. Surely, my body would react the same this time around right?
In order to prepare for a frozen embryo transfer, you take meds before to first suppress your cycle, and then you add in estrogen to thicken your uterine lining and lastly progesterone.
Well, pretty quickly after starting the estrogen patches, I came down with severe low back pain. I knew something wasn’t right. I wish I had listened to my body, but we kept at it. By the day of my embryo transfer, my low back hurt so much I could barely get in the stirrups. My doctor said the estrogen was likely creating an endometriosis flare and causing the pain (I’ve never had endo pain in my life). He said he didn’t think it would interfere with the transfer and we needed to get me pregnant quickly (being pregnant and nursing are the best treatments for endometriosis, FYI).
Well, it worked. I got a super strong positive pregnancy test at home seven days later. WE HAD DONE IT!! Charlie would be a big sister! We were over the moon. I did, however, experience a low fever, nausea and severe diarrhea around the time, which worried me. I think I knew in my gut something wasn’t right, but then came my official blood test, yep, I was indeed pregnant! I kept taking pregnancy tests everyday to track the line getting darker. One morning, I noticed the line appeared slightly lighter than the previous day. Or was I just overanalyzing and being anxious? I chose to believe the latter, but again, in my heart, I think I knew. I was to go back the next day for more blood work to ensure the beta numbers continued to grow.
Our Darkest Day
I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. I had gone in for my blood test, went home and anxiously waited for the phone call. I needed to hear I was still pregnant and that my numbers were doubling the way they are supposed to when you are pregnant. When the phone finally rang, rather than being the nurse, it was our doctor. Instantly… I knew.
I’ll never forget his words, “Caroline, it’s not good.” Rather than my pregnancy numbers going up, they had gone down. A sign that I am, in fact, losing the pregnancy. I got off the phone and literally fell to the floor and let out cries that I’ve never heard before. I couldn’t breathe. I remember saying, “ I think I’m going to die” on the phone to my husband. My loved ones left work to come and be with me and literally pick me up off the floor. While this may seem dramatic, you have to understand that I was mourning more than an early miscarriage, which in itself is horribly painful. I was morning the loss of our only embryo. I was morning the idea that I would never have another baby. I was mourning the fact that we didn’t have the luxury of simply “trying again”. But mostly, I was mourning the idea that Charlie would never have a sibling. I have never in my life felt such heartache.
I’ll also never forget going into Charlie’s room, picking her up out of her crib and breathing her in.
I want to mention that infertility the second time around, when you have a child already is different. The first time we did it, it was for US. To give US a child. The second time around it was for HER. To give HER a sibling. A playmate. A friend for life.
I felt like I had let her down and the guilt was immense. We had one shot to give her a sibling and it was gone.
IVF. Again.
We were now at square one. But we were not going to give up. Losing this embryo and this pregnancy made us realize how much we wanted this for Charlie. We decided to pursue IVF all over again. With no embryos, this would mean starting from scratch. Another round of meds to grow the follicles, another egg retrieval.. All of it. My eggs weren’t good when we did this the first time at 32 years old and egg quality declines with age… I was now 33. Would we go through ALL THIS and be left with NO embryos? There was definitely that possibility, but we did it anyway. Oh and paid out of pocket. #nopressure
Hours after beginning the injections… that same back pain I had felt before was back. I was in so much pain. I called the doctor and he said the meds were again likely flaring endometriosis, but that it wouldn’t affect my eggs and to stay the course. So I did. But I was anxious. If I was in so much pain, clearly my body was in a state of stress. How could those eggs be nurtured?
At our egg retrieval we retrieved 28 eggs, 17 of which were mature. These were good numbers.
Against All Odds
Then came a crushing phone call. Out of those seventeen eggs, three fertilized. THREE. This felt like the end of the road. We knew that not all of those would grow to be blastocysts and then not all of THOSE would pass genetic testing. I was crushed. And I knew that the extreme pain I’d felt had likely affected my eggs.
We got some good news the following day, however, that overnight another embryo fertilized. So we now had four.
Soon, we learned that of those four, two had grown to blastocysts. I honestly didn’t know if ANY would, so these were better odds than expected and better ratios than even my first IVF. But now came the real test…. Would either of these two pass genetic testing?
ONE DID. A girl. The little embryo that could.
I cried the happiest tears. And still cry when I think about the odds she defeated.
Taking All Precautions
We had our healthy embryo, but we still had may hurdles to jump. I was not going to risk losing another pregnancy, so I opted for a laparoscopic surgery to:
a) see what THE HELL was causing me so much pain
b) clear whatever it was and get my uterus in prime shape for this embryo.
The lap revealed that endo was growing on the back ligaments of the uterus (likely grown from all the estrogen)- though it was just a small amount, it was enough to create inflammation and cause pain.
While recovering from the lap, I noticed a bulge in my lower abdomen and severe pain. Go figure, I would have a complication with recovery. It turned out to be superficial, just a hematoma. But a big painful one.
False Start
Then it came time to prepare to transfer this precious miracle embryo. I had no pain on the meds! Yahoo! We were in the clear; things would work, as they should! Right?
Wrong. A monitoring appointment showed that my body was now apparently VERY sensitive to estrogen. My uterine lining had grown twice as thick as they like. SO they cancelled my transfer. I was a sobbing mess in the doctor’s office.
TALK ABOUT HITTING A DAMN ROAD BLOCK AT EVERY TURN.
I felt like this was never going to happen. I tried to just throw myself into mothering Charlie. Being the best, healthiest me I could be and practicing gratitude for all my blessings.
Ready To Go
So we waited to try again, this next time on a lower dose estrogen. We had a scare at a monitoring appointment that it would be cancelled AGAIN as my lining was growing too thick. I again was a sobbing mess right there at the doctor’s office, crying into a nurse’s shoulder. It truly felt like my body just wasn’t going to let this happen. BUT, we cut my dose down even more and that appeared to be the trick.
After ALL THAT, my body was finally ready for transfer. On August 16th, 2019, we transferred our one and only embryo. Despite it all, I had a hopeful, (yet guarded) heart.
Five days later I couldn’t stand the suspense and took a home pregnancy test. I saw the most beautiful line. That precious little embryo had done it! But now the fear set in about losing this one. I continued to test daily (like a maniac). But unless you have lost a pregnancy, you can’t understand the anxiety this brings.
Everyday, that line continued to get darker, and darker and darker. Not only that, but my blood test showed my numbers were more than doubling. This was one healthy and growing girl! HALLELUJAH!
The Mighty Quinn
Our perseverance had paid off. The little embryo that could… DID. She was growing. And we lived in the anticipation that soon, our family would be, too.
We “graduated” from our fertility clinic and I became a pregnant patient just like every other woman. We would go on to have another healthy, low risk, uneventful pregnancy. I cherished every moment of being pregnant with Quinn. And Charlie was so excited to be a big sister.
On May 4, 2020, after a beautiful delivery, which I also hope to share one day, we got to meet this miracle girl face to face. Quinn Marie Grigsby. Our family was complete and so was our journey.
… and it was worth it all.
PHEW. IF you have read this far, you probably are ready for a Xanax after all that. I know I am. Thanks for honoring our journey by reading it and to those who were there with us in real life, we are ever grateful for your love and support.
We are forever touched by this journey and are grateful for our family that we fought so hard for.
To those that are currently in the thick of it….. keep fighting.
Thank you for reading my heart,
Caroline