Icing and Animal Crackers

At the beginning of September, Dustin had to take our dog, Pieces, to the vet. She has an underactive thyroid (just like me!) so, she is on daily medication. When her prescription runs out, she needs to have blood work done (also, like me!) to make sure there are no adjustments that need to be made. This trip to the vet was for one of those routine checks. Our veterinary clinic is just outside of the city, on the same highway that our acreage was on.

When Dustin came home that evening, he told me he drove past our old place, just to see how it looked. It was a young couple that bought the acreage; they were dating at the time. Some of our mail ended up in their mailbox a few years ago, so they reached out to let us know. We found out that they had since gotten engaged and were getting married that summer. When we sold it, the trees were small, and the landscaping was minimal. On his drive by, he saw that the tiny trees were now towering, and the yard was filled with children’s toys and play structures. He said it made him a little sad to see it… that was what the acreage was supposed to be for us. It was a place where we planned to raise a family – now, someone else was living that life there. 

Fastforward a month to Thanksgiving. Growing up, Thanksgiving was rooted in tradition for our family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, sitting around a table sharing what each of us is thankful for. Grandpa’s candid photos of us visiting in my parents’ living room with a fire in the fireplace. Family walks after filling our bellies with turkey dinner and pumpkin pie. This was what I pictured Thanksgiving to be for the rest of my life, but with my own children and with my mom and dad as the grandparents. This Thanksgiving, Dustin and I went golfing with my sister and brother-in-law and we had Vietnamese food for dinner. 

On Friday afternoon, I sat in our living room with a glass of wine. I had the fireplace going, Jaxson and Pieces were cuddled together beneath it, and snow was falling. I started thinking about how lucky I am, for so many reasons. I’m healthy, I have a job that I love, I’m surrounded by amazing family and friends, and I have a marriage that is more solid than ever. I have a number of things to look forward to in the next year. As I thought about all of these things, I wondered how I got to be so fortunate – why am I deserving of all of these things? 

Life doesn’t always go as we plan. Our hopes and dreams don’t always come true. But rather than living in the “what if’s” or “should be’s” I’m focusing on the “what is”. Life is hard. Some things are shitty. Sometimes things work out. Sometimes they don’t. Some days are amazing. Some days feel like you’re never going to make it through. Life is wild, you never know what’s going to happen next. It might be something better than you planned.

I was chatting with a friend a few months ago about this blog and my Icing and Animal Crackers Instagram page. She asked if I was going to continue writing, even though we are no longer trying to have children. I started the blog in August 2021 after our second donor embryo transfer ended in a miscarriage. Writing was a way for me to process what was happening then, but it also helped me process what we had gone through in the previous 8 years. I had an abundance of thoughts I wanted to put into writing; I had a lot to reflect on. Now that we are no longer pursuing any type of treatment, my thoughts and reflections have shifted. Though I hoped it wouldn’t be the case, I knew that our story may end without a child. When I was thinking of a name for this blog, I intentionally chose something that did not have the words IFV or fertility or baby in it. I wanted the option to keep sharing our story even if it did not include those things.

I mentioned at the end of my last post that I’ve been intentional about choices. I’m writing less frequently now, but I am intentional about keeping up with it. I want to place the same importance on our childless life as I would have if we had a child. I want to normalize this story, this outcome at the end of a fertility journey. I’ve mentioned before that if you had told me 5 years ago, I would learn to accept living a childless life, I wouldn’t have believed you. It wasn’t until I began this work towards acceptance that I came to realize that this is the end of the journey for many. I continue to follow accounts of people who are still going through treatments: one just found out she wasn’t pregnant after her sixth round of IVF; one has been on IV therapy and supplements and just paid $20,000 on top of the cost of the IVF cycle for specialized genetic testing of her embryos; one is debating when to transfer her last frozen embryo (she won’t have any more after this one because of diminished egg quality); and one is prepping for her final donor embryo. I follow these accounts and empathize whole heartedly with these women and the points they are at, and at the same time, I feel liberated that I am no longer in that state of emotional agony. I want to share our story as a success story, a miracle, even though it doesn’t include a baby.

We’ve made some intentional choices this year. We are building a new house in an area of our city that we’ve always wanted to live in. It is close to the river, walking and biking trails, restaurants, and downtown. We have loved our house that we live in now, but it is in a family-friendly neighborhood, which no longer serves our (hoped for) lifestyle. We have never built a house together, and this one we are doing is just for us. No “potential” kids’ room or consideration of how a baby might fit into the space. We have kept up with the activities we like doing together, like cross-country skiing, biking, and golfing, but we’ve also taken up paddle boarding and added dance lessons to our weekly schedule. We’re planning a camping trip with our dogs in the mountains (something we’ve talked about doing for the last few years but haven’t committed to until this summer). We’re spending lots of quality time with our niece and nephew. We recognize how fortunate we are to have these little people in our lives that we can be so close and involved with. We have also embraced the luxury of enjoying our time with them and then being able to send them back to their mom and dad! 

Making these choices and focusing on the privileges we have because we don’t have children, has allowed me to find happiness, excitement, and peace in this life that I didn’t think we’d have. It continues to be a work in progress, but in this moment, I’m content.

Last Friday, we celebrated our 11th anniversary! It’s hard to believe it’s been 11 years; as they say, time flies when you’re having fun! But if you have read my blog from the beginning, you know the last 10 years have not all been “fun”. You’ll also know that seeing a counsellor has been important in helping me navigate hard things that have happened throughout my life.

I try to schedule my counselling appointments around special dates – anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, because something I have learned about myself is that these days can stir up a lot of emotion for me. Our wedding anniversary is always a day of celebration, but it’s also a day of reflection. If you had asked us on our first wedding anniversary what our life would look like on our 11^th, we could not have imagined it would be what it is. So, last Friday morning I met with my counsellor.

Our session began with her asking how things are going. I shared that it was our 11^th wedding anniversary and that we would be going out for supper to celebrate. I told her about what is happening in our lives right now, things we are doing as a couple, and how work is going. After listening, she said that she was surprised at how quickly I’ve gotten to where I am – that I have been able to find joy and meaningfulness in my life without having a child in it. I told her that I’m also kind of surprised by it, but that I know that grief can creep in when you’re not expecting it. 

She asked if there are any milestones or markers that might bring up that grief. I told her I anticipate turning 40 might be one of them. She told me to think about my 30s and everything that I’ve gone through in the last 10 years: 

• Learning I had unexplained infertility
• Countless appointments and tests
• 4 IUIs 
• 3 miscarriages 
• 3 rounds of IVF
• 4 frozen embryo transfers (1 biological and 3 donor)
• 2 invasive surgeries
• Supporting my Mom through numerous surgeries and cancer treatments
• The death of my Mom 
• The death of 3 grandparents 

She said to think of my 40s as a new beginning – 10 years that won’t revolve around appointments and medications and fertility treatments and life restrictions. My 40s can be for us to enjoy in ways we couldn’t if we had child.  

If you had asked me two years ago if I thought I would ever be able to accept being childless, I would have said “Absolutely not. I will try everything and anything to have a baby”. If you had asked me that question a year ago, I would have said “I’m not sure”. If you asked me if I would find happiness without a child, I would have said “Probably not.” But I’m also not one to be a victim of circumstances. No one could have told me I would be truly happy with how our life is now, I had to get there on my own. 

I’ve been very intentional in the last year about making choices that are right for me and for us as a couple. I’m so proud of Dustin and I as a team and how we have supported one another in our 11 years together. I can’t wait to see what the next 11 bring 🥂

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week and honestly, it crept up on me this year! I remember the first year that I made a social media post for NIAW. I was so nervous for what people’s reaction would be, but I also wanted to make people aware that this is something that affects 1 out of 6 people. I think I have made a post every year since then, and of course in 2021, I started this blog and really made our story public.

It was about this time last year that I sat on the phone with my sister, talking about what Dustin and I were going to do next. Our third donor embryo transfer had ended in miscarriage, and I just felt like I couldn’t keep doing what we were doing. I remember saying to her that if our infertility story did not end with a baby, that I felt people would judge us. I think my exact words were “Nobody likes a story that doesn’t end with a miracle”. There is this perception that people who don’t end up with a baby after infertility have “given up” or “not explored all of their options” or “not tried everything that they could”. This could not be further from the truth. Everyone’s story is valid: whether they tried naturally, did IUI, IVF, surrogate, donor, miscarriage, stillbirth, baby, no baby. Each person who has infertility has had their own experiences and they cannot be compared to others. I’m not a mom (obviously) but I would imagine that you could compare it to motherhood experiences. Every child is different and every person’s experience with parenting is unique, but all are valid.

It was after our last miscarriage that I started to explore childlessness as an “option”. It is never the popular option, but it is still one. I started to follow childless not by choice Instagram accounts and realized that it is, in fact, part of many people’s infertility story. It’s hard not to compare yourself to others. I watch as some people continue to take supplements and do genetic testing and change medication protocols. Sometimes I wonder, should we have done that? Should we have made different decisions? Should we have “tried harder” or “explored more options”? The reality is, we made the choices we made because they were right for us at the time. That includes the choice to step away from pursuing further treatments.

If I can offer advice that those who are supporting someone who is going through this (especially during National Infertility Awareness Week), it would be this – honor the person’s feelings and respect their choices. Do not flood them with toxic positivity and false hope. Do not impose your own discomfort with childlessness on them. Don’t pity them. And please, please, please, don’t ask them if they’ve considered adoption. Adoption is not a cure for infertility, and it is not right for everyone. I promise you; they have thought about it, and they will share their thoughts if they want to.

 If you are going through infertility yourself, do what you need to do for yourself. Avoid social media or baby showers or birthday parties if you need to. Don’t feel ashamed or that you haven’t done enough. Infertility is an unfair disease, and you didn’t do anything to cause it. We won’t all end up with our miracle baby, but we will all be ok.  

I apologize in advance; this is not going to be an uplifting post! But I wanted closure for this part of our story before I write about how we continue to rebuild our life after all we have gone through. So, here it is: 

March 1^st, 2022, we transferred two donor embryos. March 14^th it was confirmed that we were pregnant. By the end of March, we knew the pregnancy would not last. When I had my follow up appointment with my doctor in April,2022, I was frustrated. I wanted her to be able to give us answers – I wanted to know why this happened again.  She sent for more blood work and found that I have antiphospholipid syndrome, an autoimmune disease that can cause blood clots in parts of the body. People with this syndrome often show no symptoms but can experience multiple miscarriages and even still births. There is no cure, but medication can be given during pregnancy to reduce blood clots. After my official diagnosis, I was angry. Was this the reason I had multiple miscarriages? Could they have been prevented if I had known sooner? Why was I just learning about this now, after all these years? According to the doctor, this was not the reason for my miscarriages. She did not offer any more explanation as to why this was not a contributing factor.  

Our doctor suggested if we were going to continue treatments, our best chance would be to use my sister as an egg donor. A nurse had called several months earlier to go over the process with me, just in case we were considering this as an option. To use Mary as a donor, she would be required to go through the same procedures I went through when I had my retrievals. She would need to have a panel of bloodwork, ultrasounds, and an HSG. Mary, her husband, Dustin, and I would be required to attend counselling sessions. We would need to hire a lawyer for Mary to legally donate her eggs to us. Once these things were completed, she would need to begin taking thousands of dollars of medications (oral and injectable). She would need to spend up to a week in Calgary for daily bloodwork and ultrasounds before the retrieval. After the surgery, she would need to rest for a day before travelling home to be with her two young children. After the retrieval, we would have to wait 3 to 5 days to see if any embryos were viable. The viable ones would be sent for genetic testing. If there were no genetic abnormalities, they would be frozen. I would then have to prep for another transfer (my 8^th). This entire process would take 6 months to a year, cost approximately $30,000, and would still not guarantee a successful pregnancy. 

Over the course of our journey, I have been diagnosed with hypothyroidism, endometriosis, and antiphospholipid syndrome, and I am told that none of these things have been the reason for my infertility. I would not know I had any of these if I hadn’t pushed, asked questions, and done my own investigating.  

Nothing in infertility is a guarantee. And these are some of the reasons we are not pursuing any more treatments. We could continue with more testing. The options to explore are endless, and at the end of the day we could end up in the same place we are today – answerless and childless. There is no good answer, but we’ve made the choice that is best for us.  

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. I’ve sat down a few times between now and November and attempted to write. I’ve started a few and not finished. I’ve finished a few and decided I wasn’t ready to post. The following is a post I started writing back in October. It has been almost a year since our last fertility procedure. It has been almost a year since we miscarried our last donor embryo babies. It has taken almost a year, but I’m finally ready to share where things are at…

After our miscarriage in March 2022, I felt completely lost. This was our third donor embryo transfer and our second miscarriage in under a year. This one was supposed to work. There was no explanation why it didn’t. After grieving a loss, I’m always compelled to do something productive, to research, to plan, to find answers. When I miscarried in August, I researched surrogacy and egg donors. I began to accept those things as part of our plan, but my doctor urged us to try another donor embryo because there wasn’t any evidence that my body was the reason I miscarried. This time, I couldn’t fathom going through the process of using an egg donor or a surrogate. The thought of both of those avenues felt too daunting to explore. We still didn’t have answers, only hypothetical explanations. Instead of further tests or treatments, I sought counselling.  

I’ve mentioned a counsellor in previous posts. That person was connected to the Cancer Centre; I began to see her when my Mom was dying. She had personal and professional experience with infertility and grief, so I continued to see her for years after Mom died. But I felt that I should find another counsellor so that I was not using resources that are in place for patients with cancer and their families. I did some research and found (the only) counsellor that specializes in infertility in Saskatoon. She was not currently taking new clients, but I reached out to her anyway. I explained who I was and what I had gone through and asked if she could put me on a waiting list to see her. She replied and said she was planning to take on a few new clients in April 2022 and that she would be happy to see me. I knew from her biography that she had struggled with infertility but now had a child. I knew she would be able to empathize with most of my experience, but she was now on the other side. 

I was scrolling through Instagram shortly after booking my appointment with the new counsellor and came across a post about being childless after infertility. The post came from a counsellor based in Vancouver. She had been diagnosed with unexplained infertility, gone through tests and treatments, and was now living childless. It may sound silly, but I didn’t even consider it an option… to be childless after all we had been through. After 10 years, multiple tests, surgeries, procedures, meetings, appointments, and medications, we should have a baby in our arms. But the reality is, we don’t. And we’re not alone. It’s common to share stories of success; the miracle babies that are born because some didn’t give up. It’s less often that we share stories of those who gave it their all, did not end up with a child, but survived. I reached out to this counsellor, and we connected over Zoom. She’s not the first person I know that is childless after infertility, but she was the first person I had met who was public about it. My session with her was difficult but empowering.

I’m finally ready to share the next part of our story. The part where we rebuild our life after infertility knowing we may never have a child. I have so much to say about how we got here, because it was not (and is still not) easy. More to come in future posts. As always, thank you for reading.

A monumental event happened this week in the infertility world, specifically for the childless community. Jennifer Aniston did an interview with Allure Magazine and spoke openly about her infertility. On my Icing and Animal Crackers Instagram account I follow other fertility related accounts. Let me tell you, my feed was blown up with posts about the article. For me, there are several reasons why this story is so important. Here’s why: 

1. When I was younger, I remember reading magazines like Us Weekly and seeing pictures and articles about Jennifer. There were always rumors and speculation around whether or not she was pregnant. “Is that a baby bump?!” “Jen spotted drinking water instead of wine; is she pregnant?!” and so on… In the interview, Jennifer Aniston shared that during all of those years of speculation, she was going through IVF treatments. These speculations are ones that women of “baby making age” hear constantly. Whether a woman is faced with infertility or not, society comments on if she has put on weight, has stopped drinking, is feeling ill, etc. I believe for all women that these speculations are frustrating, but for those struggling with fertility they are aggravating and hurtful. I cannot imagine how it felt for Jennifer to have these comments made publicly during her journey; on a smaller scale I can empathize. 

2. There is a misconception that everyone’s infertility journey will somehow end with a baby. It’s a misconception that I had. It took me a long time to realize that there is no guarantee when it comes to treating infertility, especially if the cause of the infertility is unknown. A public figure/celebrity like Jennifer Aniston coming forward and sharing that her rounds of IVF did not end in her having a baby has reached an incredible amount of people. A population of people who may not know anything about infertility are now aware that it is not always a curable disease and does not always end with a miracle baby. 

3. Fertility treatments are expensive, and because of that, treatment is not equitable for everyone. That being said, Jennifer Aniston would have had access to the best doctors, clinics, and care. (I’m assuming that) cost wouldn’t have been a limiting factor for Jennifer. Even with the best care, even without financial limitations, she still did not have a baby. Sometimes I wonder, if I had access to a “better” clinic, maybe we would have a baby. Jennifer’s story is a reminder that fertility does not discriminate and having more money does not make it curable.  

I have to say, this has been the most relevant “Celebrities are just like us!” story that has ever been published and I commend Jennifer for it. I can’t imagine being so publicly scrutinized for “putting her career first” and “not starting a family yet” when all along, she was fighting one of the most painful battles a person can face. She has helped so many people feel like they are not alone. And to top it all off, she has been able to heal and create a life for herself that she loves. From all of us who know this pain personally, we want to thank you, Jennifer Aniston. Sending you so much love.  

Everything was different in our third transfer. My body was responding well to the medication now that it was being regulated. My ultrasound results were better than they had ever been. We found a donor with two very high-quality embryos. We spent a few days relaxing by the ocean after the transfer. When we got home, I began to notice more differences. Medicated transfer cycles usually give false symptoms, but I could tell this time was not the same. I had all of the symptoms of early pregnancy; nausea, tenderness, swelling. My belly had expanded so much that I couldn’t wear certain pants. I looked at my body in the mirror and I knew… I was pregnant.

Of course, our history has made me cautious of optimism, so I was cautiously optimistic. I tried not to focus on the symptoms and remain as relaxed as I could until I went for my test.

My test was scheduled for a Saturday. I also had plans to meet some friends for drinks that night. Would I surprise them with the news? Or would it be too early? They would notice I ordered a non-alcoholic drink. Should I make up another excuse? Maybe I should get there early so I can order a virgin drink without anyone knowing.

This time walking into the lab for my bloodwork felt less scary. I was pretty sure I knew what the result would be. I was hours away from finding out for sure. I scheduled my appointment for the morning so that I would have the results the same day. 

Later that afternoon I logged into my online health account and scrolled to the recent result. I was pregnant. But for the second time, my beta was lower than it should have been. My heart dropped into my stomach. How could this be happening again? After being so sure that this was it for us, after having everything feel so right, I was right back to wear I had been the previous summer. But this time, I wasn’t so naive to think that I would be one of the miracle people to have a successful pregnancy after slow rising beta. 

Because I wasn’t sure what else to do, I got dressed up and when out to meet my friends. I called my sister on the way to tell her the results of my test. She has always been one of my biggest cheerleaders and supporters. She urged me to stay optimistic and not jump to conclusions until after speaking with the clinic. When I got to the restaurant I was in a fog. All I could think about was whether or not this pregnancy was going to last. I knew I wasn’t being myself. I ordered a non-alcoholic drink. I tried to put on a happy face. I just wanted to crawl into a corner and cry. 

The next day I spoke with the clinic. As I anticipated, they were not hopeful this would be a viable pregnancy, but I would have to have my beta monitored to know for sure. A few days later I went back to the lab for bloodwork. What I feared became reality once again. My beta was dropping, and I would have another miscarriage.  

From September to January, I monitored my thyroid (TSH level) through lab work. In January, my naturopath felt I was in a good range to begin prepping for our next donor embryo cycle. When choosing our first and second donor embryos, we prioritized characteristics that were similar to ours. In our third cycle, we asked our doctor to choose donors that would give us the greatest chance of success. In other words, the highest quality regardless of characteristics. She found us a donor couple who had used an egg donor. The age of the egg donor was 25. The couple had had one child using a fresh embryo transfer and had six good quality embryos remaining. These embryos would be our best chance.

As I prepared for the transfer, I received a call from our doctor. She wanted to present the option of transferring two embryos. Our previous donors only had one embryo each, so this wasn’t an option in those cycles. She felt that with our history, it would be reasonable to do two. Typically, in fertility treatments it is preferred to not increase the chances of a multiple pregnancy as risk to the mother and babies also increases. In our case, she felt the pros would outweigh the risks. Of course, it would be our decision to make. She cautioned that because the embryos were of such good quality, it was possible that we could end up with twins. Wow. The thought of struggling and being childless for all of these years and then having twins?? Could we handle two babies? After discussing the options with Dustin, we decided that we would transfer two embryos. If this would increase our chances of never having to go through this again, then it was worth the risk.  

My medication for my third transfer affected me differently than it had before. Now that my thyroid was being managed, I was feeling the symptoms that I should have been feeling – bloated, swollen, night sweats. Not enjoyable symptoms, but signs that my body was more receptive to the hormones. At our pre-transfer ultrasound, my uterine lining measured a millimeter thicker than previous. All good things! Everything felt like it was going in the right direction.  

After our previous transfers, I’ve always come home to “rest and relax”, as if that is possible. This time we decided to plan a mini vacation to Vancouver following our appointment. I’ve always found being near the ocean good for my soul, and unfortunately Saskatchewan is nowhere near an ocean! 

We flew out to Calgary the night before our transfer. We went to one of our favorite restaurants and enjoyed good food and drinks. The next morning, we went for our all-to-familiar appointment at the clinic. One of the embryos had thawed 100% and the other 80%. The transfer went smoothly. I put the picture of our two future babies in my bag and we headed for the airport. While in Vancouver we enjoyed being by the water, resting, and waiting for our little embryos to stick. 

When we got home, I returned to work as usual. Keeping our little secret from friends, family and co-workers. I had a good feeling about this one. I’ll share the rest of this story in my next post.  

**I will share on my Icing and Animal Crackers Instagram page some photos and video from this transfer for anyone who is interested in what the transfer process looks like.  

Time flies! It’s been over a month since my last blog post! If you’re a teacher, you know how crazy June is: the kids are antsy, report cards need to be complete, parent meetings are taking place, classrooms are being cleaned, everyone in the school is ready for a break! This June was a little different for me. In May, I was offered a Vice Principalship at another school, starting this fall. This opportunity has come with all the emotions! Excitement, nervousness, pride, curiosity, sadness, and joy. I cannot wait to start this new chapter in my career, but it was hard to say goodbye to the staff and students I’ve called family for the past 8 years. As you know from reading my blog, the last 8 years have been a roller coaster and my colleagues have seen me through all of it. So, this June instead of counting down the days until summer, I was enjoying every moment I could with my school family. There were lots of laughs and tears and words of encouragement for next year. I’m thankful for the community I was a part of and looking forward to building relationships in my new school! July has been spent catching up with friends, spending time at the lake, golfing, boating, paddle boarding, reading, and travelling. Overall, it was a great start to the summer!

In my counselling session last week, my counsellor asked me how I was doing. I shared with her that this summer has felt like such a relief compared to last summer. Last summer revolved around our second embryo transfer. I started my medication shortly after July long weekend. We travelled to Calgary on July 26^th to spend a couple of days enjoying ourselves before the procedure. We did our transfer on July 28^th. On the August long weekend was when I sat in my sister camper, crying because I was not experiencing any pregnancy symptoms and wondering what we were going to do if it didn’t work. On August 9^th I went for my pregnancy test. That was the night I found out I was pregnant. A few days after that was when we found out I would miscarry. Mid-way through August I was preparing to go back to work. I spent a day sending text to co-workers letting them know what had happened. I told them over text because I didn’t want to break down in tears when they asked how my summer was on the first day back at work. I met with my principal to let him know. As always, he was empathetic and supportive of everything Dustin and I were going through.  

This year is different. We are not currently perusing any treatments. I’ve spent the summer enjoying all the things I was limiting last year: sun, exercise, coffee, wine. I haven’t had to worry about taking medications on time or going to acupuncture and ultrasound and lab appointments. I haven’t had to keep a secret from my family and friends in anticipation of a surprise pregnancy. It has been truly refreshing to not let infertility dominate my summer. That being said, grief is sneaky. August 9^th is just around the corner, and I am aware that dates and year-markers can stir up all sorts of emotions. Even when you’re not consciously thinking about it, your body and mind know when these events happened and when these dates are approaching. I’ve become familiar with this phenomenon since my Mom died. So, I’m preparing to feel uncomfortable… to feel sad… to feel unsettled on August 9^th. It’s part of grieving and healing. It’s something that will pass. It will make me stronger.