In 2018, I started acupuncture to help with infertility. I also took painstaking measures to learn to prepare and drink a daily decoction herbal medicinal tea, again to help with infertility, as prescribed by the Doctor at the TCM clinic. Guess what. The tea was disgusting and I ended up switching to an herbal supplement in pill form. My Doctor was not surprised.
I spent hundreds - actually thousands, probably - on acupuncture, and literally 10s of thousands on IVF treatment (and that’s with insurance - boom). I was at that fucking acupuncture clinic 2-3 days a week for nearly 2 years, while balancing work, teaching yoga, and my RE appointments, which sometimes were also 2-3 days a week. And, while I love my Drs at the acupuncture clinic, and felt relief from my anxiety and diminished negative side effects from my IVG treatments as a result of the acupuncture, it failed to help me achieve a sustainable pregnancy.
IVF, acupuncture, fancy herbs, nauseating, painful medications, buckets of needles, lifestyle changes, and spending a small fortune on an RE and specialty treatments are not a cure-all for infertility, and are not a guarantee for pregnancy and babies. Don’t let anyone try to tell you otherwise. Sure, it works for some, but…not everyone. I’m proof of that.
After struggling through IVF only to produce a mere 5 eggs and 1 healthy embryo, having to reschedule my FET 3 TIMES DURING A PANDEMIC because my body was not responding to meds, and after 3 miscarriages in 3 years every August, like clockwork (actually 2 , but my failed FET in Aug 2020 with our only quality embryo was the actually most devastating of my losses, and left me sobbing in bed for days - so I’m going to go ahead and count it, it’s my story), B and I have given up on having children.
Yes, I said we gave up. And I’m not ashamed to say that. Because sometimes giving up and letting go is the right thing to do, the healthy thing to do. We gave up after 4 years of trying absolutely everything. We gave up after giving it our all, and we sacrificed a lot along the way. And now, we’re in the process of letting go and moving forward imagining new dreams, manifesting a different life. It’s time.
Some days, I’m fine, even excited about our future together as a badass child free couple. Other days, I bounce recklessly through the stages of grief, like a psychotic ping pong ball. Some days I feel strong, hopeful, even normal. Other days, I’m a glob of wallowing self pity, resentment and anger. Some days I go through the motions. Some days I search for meaning where meaning doesn’t exist. Some days I cry. Some days I do yoga and eat guacamole (not at the same time, to be clear).
Over time, the lows will not be as low and won’t last as long. I’m already seeing and experiencing that. Therapy and yoga have helped me to connect with impermanence and the transient nature of our emotions, But, the experience of infertility and multiple pregnancy losses will always define me in some way, forever a part of my personal history. And, that’s ok. Life is fucking hard. Living life means dealing with hard shit. And our pain can be a vehicle for our compassion. Our failures can be shadows in the energizing sun of a brighter outcome on better days ahead. Our losses, a bookmark in our story of deep, deep love.
