Unexplained Infertility
My son’s birth story begins in Spring of 2017. My husband and I had been married for one year and had no real plans for having children. I went to my OBGYN for a check-up because I had been experiencing stomach pains during my monthly cycle, and while ultimately she did not find anything wrong, an ultrasound revealed I possibly had a cyst on one of my fallopian tubes or a hydrosalpinx (blocked fallopian tube). I was very nonchalantly told I may have trouble conceiving if that was the case, and to come back if we tried for a year with no success.
That Christmas, we decided that if our journey to children was potentially going to be difficult, we should start trying and see what happens! After 11 months and no pregnancies, in November of 2018 my doctor agreed to run some tests to see if we had any potential issues. Bloodwork, ultrasounds, HSG (Hysterosalpingogram), and semen analysis all came back normal. From there we were told to see a Fertility Specialist, which we did in May of 2019 after months of trying to find the right clinic and then waiting to get an appointment. It was certainly clear that so many families deal with infertility and are seeking help!
Luckily we found a practice and doctor we really liked, and we were excited to take some steps forward after 17 months of trying on our own. With no real answers or abnormal findings, we completed 6 IUI’s with no success. At this point our very relaxed view of having children “someday” became a much more urgent desire, so we moved forward with IVF as well as a diagnostic laparoscopy and hysteroscopy to finally determine if anything was wrong with my fallopian tube before attempting an embryo transfer. Luckily our IVF cycle went very smoothly and we had 5 genetically normal embryos frozen. Soon after, the surgery revealed I had Stage 2 Endometriosis, which may or may not have contributed to our troubles, but no blocked or damaged structures. We were cleared for a transfer!
We’re Pregnant! In a Global Pandemic….
In January of 2020 we transferred one embryo, and after 2 years of trying to conceive and many tests and procedures later, we were pregnant! And then, enter COVID. In March 2020 our world shut down and we faced the early weeks of pregnancy without family or friends, going to appointments alone, and navigating some initial worry over a slightly elevated nuchal translucency measurement at our 12-week genetic ultrasound. Once we felt confident that we were having a healthy pregnancy, we finally told our families and friends we were expecting at a socially distanced lunch and many ZOOM calls. Not quite what we pictured when planning this celebration of life!
Unlike our path to conceiving, my pregnancy went very smoothly, and I was so lucky to be able to truly enjoy being pregnant despite the circumstances. It went so smoothly in fact, my son had no intention of leaving his comfortable home, and we were still waiting on his arrival at 40 weeks and 5 days. Two days before our scheduled induction at 41 weeks, my doctor sent us to the hospital due to slightly elevated amniotic fluid levels, but with no real concerns. Before COVID, we had planned to have a doula with us for the birth, as well as family in tow for support. Instead, the two of us drove to the hospital facing our first birth alone.
Labor & Delivery
I was only 1 cm dilated upon arrival and was induced through medication and a CRIB (Cervical Ripening Balloon). I was given medication to help with the pain, which caused me to vomit violently, and we were told someone would come check on us in 4 hours (and they really meant it that NO ONE would come unless we called before the 4-hour mark). As we continued with the CRIB inflation and the pain worsened, I was given a direct injection of the pain medication instead of the IV drip to see if that would avoid the vomiting, and it definitely DID NOT. At this time, about 12 hours after our induction began and getting no sleep overnight, my blood pressure was spiking and my blood platelet count was dropping, and with nothing left in my stomach and severe pain ongoing I was given an epidural, had the CRIB removed, and had my water broken manually.
I was hopeful that things would really start to progress from here, and I remember just trying to sleep all day between the 4-hour check-ins. A bit before 8 pm, about 30 hours after our arrival at the hospital, I had not progressed past 5.5cm dilation, and the doctor on call determined that a C-section was the safest route for delivery. Her theory was that our son was too large for my pelvic outlet and because of my ongoing increased blood pressure and drop in platelet count we were immediately taken to the Operating Room to meet our son. To say I was devastated is an understatement. I knew going into childbirth that anything could happen, but I was so hopeful for a smooth, vaginal delivery. I really felt that in order to feel an instant bond with my son I would need that experience, which was now out of reach.
During the procedure I, unfortunately, experienced many of the common side effects; feeling cold, shaking uncontrollably, shoulder pain, severe dry mouth, and even more vomiting. I had seen so many photos of other women during and after their C-sections posted on social media. How could these women possibly be smiling?! After what seemed like forever, my son was born at 8:26p.m. weighing in at 9 lbs. 12 oz. and to quote one of the nurses, “he was HUGE!” As this moment arrived where I had pictured holding my baby and feeling the elation of labor ending, I turned to see a screaming infant being held and wrapped by the nurses while my procedure continued. After a brief moment of seeing him up close to give him a kiss, he was taken away and I began to go in and out of consciousness. I wasn’t sure what was happening in the moment, but I felt immense fear that I was not going to come back from this. I was told later that my uterus was so distended that the doctors were having trouble getting it to stop hemorrhaging and to shrink back down. I was prepped for a possible transfusion, but my veins were all so small from dehydration I ended up with a lot of extra holes and bruising for one little port. I lost 2-2.5 liters of blood (which in an average adult is about half of your blood supply) but very thankfully came through with my uterus in-tact.
Post-birth
I came to (partially) In the recovery room, and my desire to actually understand what caused my labor and birthing complications was put on hold as I could barely open one eye to listen to the doctor explain how they had to “stitch [my] uterus up like a roast” to stop the bleeding, and unless I could guarantee a 5 or 6 lb. baby, to never attempt a vaginal birth again. The next few hours in recovery were a complete blur of my husband doing skin to skin (we had discussed in our birth plan that he was to do this as soon as possible if I ended up having a C-section), and then trying to breastfeed while this little stranger cried in protest. When it was determined we were “ready” to move to our maternity room, I was told I had to hold our son during the transport. I was shaking, still could barely see, and was furiously eating ice chips since I still wasn’t allowed any water or food, and I pleaded that my husband take him. But, I was told it was mandatory that I held him.
As I now understand all mothers do, I tried to put my fears and physical pain aside, and held our son tightly and rubbed his back, hoping that he recognized me and felt safe, because I certainly did not recognize myself. As soon as we arrived to our room, I was asked if I wanted him to stay with us that night and I vehemently said, “NO!” The next time I opened my eyes was about 12 hours later, at 11 am the following day. I felt a mix of emotions when my husband went to request him from the nursery. Did I really want to see him? After so many hours alone was he really going to feel like mine? I can’t say I was thrilled to see our son after what we had just been through, but I did feel an overwhelming sense of guilt that I had already spent so much time away from him, still was not truly ready to hold him, and felt no magical bond that so many new mothers talk about. There was no instant love, just fear, remorse, and exhaustion.
Moving Forward
The next days, weeks, and months between the hospital and home were hard, to say the least. Recovering from surgery and blood loss while trying to learn how to care for this tiny human with limited help and options due to COVID seemed like an impossible task. We struggled with breastfeeding and I ended up exclusively pumping around the clock, and our son proved to be a “challenging” sleeper from the start, so for quite awhile we were getting sleep in 30 minute spurts at most and experiencing levels of sleep-deprived rage I never thought possible. I cried (a lot) most days for a long time and struggled to find support when I reached out for help, with several doctors and organizations saying I did not have Postpartum Depression, so their help wasn’t “really for [me]”. And when I tried to speak about the trauma I had experienced, others would commonly say “well at least you’re both here, and that’s all that matters.” Really? That can’t be ALL that matters! I consider myself so lucky that we all survived this experience as so many others have experienced much worse, but what are the rules around how to feel about this?
Our son is almost 9 months old now, and while my bond with him has grown and we have slowly adjusted to being a family of three, I still wake up at night thinking about his birth, mourning the experience we did not get, and wondering about all of the “what-ifs”. When I see other new mothers posting updates and photos online as if their transition to motherhood was the easiest thing in the world, I still feel jealous and anxious, and that I am not doing enough as a mother. I fear another C-section if we decide to have another child and are able to conceive and have a live birth. And most of all I wish I had more professional guidance and heard more stories of traumatic births sooner so I knew I wasn’t alone in how I have been feeling. Weekly therapy is helping process everything we have been through in our journey, and as time goes on and I read others’ stories I feel hope that one day these feelings at least won’t be as raw. And that perhaps I’ll get some answers to all of the unexplained aspects of our infertility and birth experience. In the meantime, I am working hard to enjoy the little things as we watch our son grow and to share our story so others do not feel alone.
About the Author
My name is Leah and I live in Chicago, Illinois with my husband/high-school sweetheart, and our son. I work in Advertising, and enjoy baking, taking dance fitness classes, and having movie nights!
