the last embryo.

On June 5th, 2017 my husband & I “secretly” transferred our last frozen embryo. I say “secretly” because we didn’t tell anyone for a change. And honestly, it was like a breath of fresh air and it came with a lot less pressure. Of course, there are pros & cons to being public about our journey – and I would say without a doubt, the pros definitely outweigh the cons. Pros – the unbelievable amount of support + prayers we receive from everyone and the awareness we are raising for infertility; Cons – everyone being in your business and adding more pressure/stress to “not let anyone down.”

We arrived at our clinic for our transfer at 10:20am – call me crazy, but I took it as a “sign from God” that our transfer was at that time because our wedding anniversary is 10/20. Trust me, any “signs” of hope are welcome during this less than cheery journey we have had thus far.

As magical as an embryo transfer is, there is sadly nothing glamorous about it. You’re half naked from the waist down, your feet are strapped into stirrups, the speculum inserted, your bladder is FULL of water, and the ultrasound tech is pushing down so hard on your belly you wanna pee all over the darn table. You try so hard to focus on the TV screen and that little embryo, but all the stuff going on beside you can be distracting. The embryologist coming in to ask you your name and social security number, having to pee, confirming and signing consent forms on how many embyro(s) are being transferred, having to pee, the doctor talking to you, having to pee, the embryologist confirming that the embryo came out of the catheter – and did I mention having to pee?

This particular transfer was probably one of our worst experiences that we have had with our clinic – and let me first say – I love our clinic. I have had zero complaints up until this point and am harboring no hard feelings.

My RE was on medical leave so another RE was doing our transfer. Not a huge deal – he’s done some of our transfers before and had gotten me pregnant, so I wasn’t too worried. However, he came into the transfer room that day (mind you, I’m all ready to go in the table and extremely uncomfortable) and started to look at the computer behind us to look through our history. He said “Excuse me while I look at your history and see what isn’t working here.” –Umm, isn’t that something you should be doing PRIOR to doing a transfer into me? And actually take time to look at our chart & see if you can see what’s going on with our repeated pregnancy loss?! *hand to head and eye roll*

He asked if we had tried PGS (duh, if you read my record you’d see that we tried it 2x AND the outcome made zero difference) and then he suggested an ERA test. An ERA test is an endometrial receptivity array test to see if you are transferring on the best day for your body – some women in previous tests have shown they need a day less or a day more of progesterone before transfer. It’s $1,000/test (not covered by insurance) and you may need the test a couple times before getting an accurate answer. I have zero desire to try the ERA because A.) we seem to not have a problem getting pregnant B.) it isn’t cheap and C.) my RI has stated that there isn’t enough evidence out there yet to prove that it’s necessary.

I then asked him, as he walked around the table to transfer our embryo, if there would ever come a time where they (the clinic) would stop treating me. His response? “No, but we probably should.” Immediate lump in throat. The way it made me feel as an {already} infertile woman was just crushing. I went from excited to transfer our last embryo to wanting to escape that room as soon as I possibly could.

Transfer went smooth and we then went to our room and laid there for an hour before being allowed to leave. And then the glorious two week wait ensued.

Our first beta was on June 14 (9dp5dt) and it was only 34 – at this point, my clinic likes to see at least 50. They continued to track my beta and it actually rose exactly as it should to be considered a “normal” pregnacy. It jumped to 80 at 11dp5dt, then 353 at 14dp5dt and my last beta was 1661 at 18dp5dt. At that point, my RE wanted to see me the next week for our first ultrasound to see what was going on.

I honestly didn’t know what to expect. My beta’s were rising accurately, but given our history, I don’t think my husband or myself had our hopes too high. That’s the shitty thing about infertility. Each new pregnancy you can’t even enjoy – and I hate that I don’t think it’s “fair” to those embryos/babies (it absolutely does not mean that we did not love those babies in my womb). But, it sucks, royally. You become too afraid to become too attached to the thought of actually bringing home a baby. Because you’d be crazy to think that this could actually work.

Sadly, at our first ultrasound my RE could find the gestational sac, but couldn’t see anything in it. Which, at 6 weeks, you should at least be seeing a yolk sac/fetal pole and if you’re lucky, a heartbeat. She continued to look around but there was just nothing. A sixth feather will be added to my tattoo and a sixth birthstone will be added to my necklace. Heartbreak, yet again.

On July 3 I miscarried naturally at home. Miscarriage is no walk in the park either. Your body acts like it’s in labor with contractions and just forces everything out. It’s extremely painful. And it’s constant trips to the toilet and hoping to God you don’t get blood all over. This was it – I had finally had enough.

I have given my body more than enough chances to attempt to carry a baby. Nine chances to be exact. My body has been through HELL. But I just can’t do it anymore. We have seen numerous doctors, tried different protocols and nothing seems to be working. The injections, ultrasounds, beta tracking, medications, infusions – I’m done and I can promise you, my husband agrees.


Make no mistake – this is not us giving up. This is simply us changing directions. We have decided to start the process of gestational carrier. It won’t be easy, it won’t be cheap, but I hope to damn hell it will be worth it.


Thank you to those that have been following our journey and continue to follow it. Your support, prayers, and love does not go unnoticed. We are so very blessed.

I hope that you all continue to follow our journey to three – because it isn’t over yet.






  1. Your optimism is inspiring. I just recently started following you and I’m glad I did. We also just started the process of going the gestational carrier route. I agree, expensive, but better be, and should, be worth it.


  2. I’m so sorry. Your m/c story is so similar to mine, terribly grievous.

    Whatever your new journey brings and may look like, I pray the absolute best for you. ❤


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