I’ve started and stopped this post so many times and I am still not quite sure how or where to begin.  As a same sex couple, Krystal and I, fall in a gray area of infertility. Neither of us suffer from any diagnosed fertility problem, but it is still the journey that our family has taken to grow. 

At first, we didn’t feel as though we belonged to the infertility community but four cycles in, it feels more like a community we didn’t want to be a part of but still belong to. Our journey began in 2018 with our first cycle of Reciprocal IVF which resulted in a successful pregnancy/birth on the first embryo transfer. 

In 2022 we decided to grow our family and decided to use one of Krystal’s remaining frozen embryos. Our second cycle we transferred one embryo on April 18, 2022. This two week wait and leading up to the transfer, my head was not in the game. It was a year after Mama Sampson’s passing and she consumed my thoughts and emotions. This cycle didn’t share the same eager anticipation as the first, but sat like a pit in my stomach for no real reason. 

Our Beta numbers began low and did not increase like we hoped. By the third Beta, Krystal and I breathed a little easier thinking that it worked. We went for our 6 week ultrasound and discovered that the embryo had implanted late, thus the delayed increase in HcG numbers. We would need a follow up ultrasound in one week to see if the pregnancy was viable.  

The week between ultrasounds, the pit in my stomach grew. We tried to remain positive and hopeful. Prior to our first ultrasound we did a Sneakpeak Test to find out the gender. I was unsure if I wanted to know with the uncertainty of it all, but Krystal received the results and stopped by the dollar store that evening to gather a few (gendered) baby trinkets to surprise me with the that night. It was a boy. Our hopes grew a little higher. 

On Monday, May 23, 2022 we had our final ultrasound and no heartbeat was detected. We were given protocol to continue medication (PIO shots) till Thursday when we would use medication to induce a miscarriage. 

This was smack in the middle of Roe v. Wade being overturned. The struggle to get both medications from the pharmacy and approved through insurance was ridiculous and continued till the close of business on Thursday. Krystal argued and made so many trips to the pharmacy and I am so grateful she was my advocate because I did not have the emotional bandwidth to fight this battle. 

Throughout our first cycle in 2018 and this cycle we were very open on social media about our journey through fertility treatments. As a result we posted an update regarding the loss of our embryo. It was probably the hardest post I ever had to write and I felt so raw and vulnerable. This post is one that ultimately provided me with the safety, comfort, and information I was looking for to make me feel less isolated and helpless during the miscarriage. 

Miscarriage is such a taboo topic in our society there really isn’t a whole lot of information especially for pregnancy loss so early. Additionally, because we fall into such a gray area with the infertility community there also isn’t a lot of information or research that pertains to us. So from Monday to Thursday I scoured the web looking for any advice or stories of what to expect. 

After people saw my post they reached out to me and offered me so much compassion and honesty about their own experiences. These were individuals that would probably never know we were going through a failed cycle had it not been on social media. The experiences that these women shared of the most raw and vulnerable moments of their lives is what made me feel safe and informed about what would happen in my own experience. It gave me some semblance of control over my body that often disappears with an IVF/FET cycle. 

If I could give one piece of advice to anyone going through pregnancy loss. It would be to not isolate yourself. Tell your village, whatever that looks like for you. There will still be the emotional journey of loss and for me the anxiety in pregnancy after loss, but when your village steps up it makes the hard parts just a little less hard. 

For us the safe space that our village provided during this time in so many different ways was beyond valuable. From embroidery projects to keep hands busy, roses, plants or meals. It was their way of holding us through this tough journey. 

If you are in that village and are looking for ways to be present and provide a safe space for someone you care about. I would encourage you to think of this time as a way to ease the burden of everyday tasks. What I sought most from those that shared their experiences were what to expect when it came to my body. Frida Mom has a package that is made specifically for incomplete pregnancies that I wish I would’ve had rather than having to stand in the pads aisle crying. 

If asked, help them find a special way to remember or hold this time dear. I framed a watercolor of our embryo and have a small box of the mementos from this cycle. I know the feeling of not wanting to erase this time, but needing some space from the items that were present in it.

I guess I would categorize myself as “lucky” for the miscarriage itself. It happened in the middle of the night, with minimal cramping or pain. I remember sitting on the toilet looking down at my pad and wondering how something so small could make me feel so empty and telling myself it was ok to flush. The next few days passed with little pain, a positive COVID test and feelings of isolation both literally and emotionally. I am thankful that I did not experience the traumatic path that some shared with me, but in some ways, as weird as it sounds, I wish it would’ve left more of a mark on my body. Some sort of proof.. Grief can be such an odd thing.  

Our due date would have been January 24, 2023. I keep a watercolor of his embryo on my dresser. I thought it would make me sad to see it everyday, but it actually brings me a little bit of happiness that there is something tangible to serve as a keepsake to fill the empty space. It’s odd to miss someone, something you never really knew.