Almost Freezing My Eggs: The Prequel (LONG VERSION)

[Disclaimer, this is so freaking long.]

Part 1: 

The start of my infertility journey actually started before I knew I was infertile. I was 35, in a serious relationship with B but not married or engaged, and I was afraid that my ever-growing age (as age tends to do) was going to be a barrier for me getting pregnant in the future. I made an appointment at a fertility clinic in March 2022 to discuss freezing my eggs. Sometimes a girl's just gotta take matter into her own hands, ya know!?

At that time, I underwent some baseline fertility tests (AFC, AMH, FSH, vitamin D, and a handful of other labs). B and I met with a doctor who told us that it would be better to freeze embryos, rather than just my eggs because embryos survive the thaw at better rates. But before we could do anything, she said, we needed to get my vitamin D level up. I was at a 16 and they want 30+ before moving forward with any treatment. She told me to start taking a vitamin D supplement and re-check in 60 days. Of note, she did not tell me about the results of any of the other tests I had done - just that I needed to improve my vitamin D. 

So I went home, bought a big bottle of vitamin D, and took it every day for 2 months. I re-checked, and it was still too low. I was told to take it for 2 more months. Another 2 months went by of me "popping the D" as I jokingly referred to it, and STILL it was too low. Then, after 2 more months (we're at 6 months after the initial consult if you're counting along).. 2 things happened: (1) my vitamin D was finally above 30 and (2) B and I got engaged. 

Part 2:

B and I planned a short engagement and would be married within 6 months, so we decided to pump the breaks on freezing embryos. We would be married soon and could just start trying on our own after that. I had no reason to believe that I would have any issues getting pregnant. That 6 months was filled with wedding dress shopping, wedding planning, my bachelorette party, and a blissful lack of awareness of a diagnosis I had but knew nothing about. 

In March 2023, B and I exchanged rings and vows during a Palm Springs golden hour, and we danced and ate In-N-Out with all our friends and family until late at night/early the next morning. It was a dream day, and afterward I was excited that we were going to start trying to start a family. 

I look back now at how naïve I was about the whole 'making a baby' thing. Compared to what I know about ovulation and fertility now, It's almost cute how I thought it would happen right away. Almost. :/ For most of my adult life, I had been actively trying to prevent getting pregnant, and I - like so many other women in my same position - now found myself on the opposite side of the fence. I was ready, but it wasn't happening. 

Part 3:

After about 8 months of "not trying, but not-not trying" and then "fully, actively trying," I told B I wanted to go back to the fertility clinic because had we never got the results of the other baseline tests I had done the previous year. B thought that we should give it more time before talking to a reproductive specialist, but I said that I just wanted to know if there were any red flags. If all my results were normal, we could keep trying the old-fashioned way. I just wanted the info. Ahead of that appointment, I went in for updated an ultrasound and labs. 

Part 4:

At the end of November 2023, B and I sat down in the office of the fertility clinic and were both fully prepared to hear, "Everything looks great. Keep at it," but that is not the message we received. Dr. C sat down and said, "First of all, has anyone ever told you your results of your tests?" She added, "I was talking to the nurse in the other room and asked - does this woman know?" ....Know what? The answer was no - I did not know. 

Dr. C continued on to explain that I have a very low AMH, high FSH, and low AFC. (I know, it's a lot of acronyms). Basically all of that together means that I have a diagnosis of what's called Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR). She explained that as females, we are born with all the eggs we will ever have and we slowly lose them as we age. For people with DOR, we have an even lower reserve of eggs than most people our age. Based on my numbers, I have the amount of eggs similar to that of a 55-year-old woman. I know, just what every 37-year-old woman wants to hear.

She gave us our options - IUI (8-10% chance of working), IVF (10-15% chance of working), or using a donor egg (~70% chance of working). That's when I lost it. I WEPT. I had walked into that room thinking that B was probably right; we didn't have a fertility problem, we just hadn't been trying for long enough. But hearing our options laid out and the tiny percentage next to each of them, I was shocked. I had also never even considered what using a donor egg would mean and was immediately turned off by the idea of having a baby with B but without my DNA (my thoughts on this have changed drastically since becoming more informed). 

As I hiccup-cried, I squeaked out a "I'm sorry" because I felt like I could be scaring women who could hear me in the waiting room. Dr. C said, "It's actually good that you're reacting this way because it means you understand how serious it is what I'm telling you." I guess I can understand what she meant, but it certainly didn't feel good to be reacting that way. Nothing about that appointment felt good. B and I asked some more questions - though I can't really remember what else was said, and then we walked out the door, down the stairs, and into our car where I felt I could finally let out the pain and sadness I was feeling in the form of howling sobs and one very snotty nose. I had not brought Kleenexes.

B rubbed my back and asked if I wanted to just drive around for a little bit. I said yes, and we eventually ended up at the Home Depot parking lot. B went in to buy Christmas wreaths, and my red, puffy eyes and I stayed in the car, still trying to digest the hard pill I had been given to swallow. I was infertile.

Part 5: 

After a couple of weeks of emotional outbursts, conversations with B, phone calls with my mom and sister, and a thorough investigation of my insurance benefits, B and I had a plan. We had learned that my insurance through work would totally cover 3 rounds of IVF (!!!), and so we decided that with that benefit, we had to at least give IVF a chance. If it didn't work after 3 rounds (which was a likely possibility), at least we wouldn't be out $100k and we could say that we tried. 

Though the idea of shots, appointments, hormones, and juggling all of it with B's work travel schedule felt like an impossibly difficult hike with a major incline, it felt good to have an actionable plan for a way out of the darkness I was feeling. A week before Christmas, we called Dr. C and said we wanted to give IVF a shot. And so it began...