Ally Fullmer, Penn Medicine Senior Marketing Manager for Analytics, shares her personal story for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, which is observed each October.
I just realized what day it was. What month it is.
Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, a part of the larger month-long “celebration” of the lives we’ll never know, but will always be in our hearts. Usually I think of awareness months as tacky, but that’s because I’ve never really belonged to a population that recognizes one. I feel like I’ve recently joined this club, but when I sit back and think about it, I’ve been a member for years.
Unexplained infertility: A frustrating diagnosis
Four years ago my husband and I embarked on the “fun” journey of trying to conceive a child. When 9 months of trying hit, we went to the specialists at Penn Fertility Care to be evaluated.
After a few months of testing, we came out with the frustrating diagnosis of unexplained infertility. But we had a plan: try three IUIs.
Unfortunately, each IUI was unsuccessful and came with cysts that took a few months to resolve before we could try the next round. It was a year before we finished our plan and it was time to move on.
From IUI to IVF
Moving to IVF was a big and scary step. I cried on the corner of 3701 Market St. after getting the overview. I cried for my loss of any sort of normalcy. But Penn’s nurses and education classes made the jump to the next level much less daunting. The injections weren’t as painful as I imagined, and I felt empowered and strong to be doing this. I felt lucky to have a team to believe that IVF would work for me, even though the first round of medication didn’t have a strong effect on my body and I would have to repeat the cycle.
The second round of medications worked perfectly. The egg retrieval was my first time ever under anesthesia, and everything went fine. Ten days later I went in for my embryo transfer and came out with a perfect looking picture of my 4AA embryo that was now in my body. I felt like IVF was a miracle and I was so lucky to have seasoned doctors to help guide me through the process. Nine months later, I held my healthy son in my arms and jumped right into motherhood and didn’t look back.
Pregnancy, doubt and loss
Fast forward 18 months. I’m back and ready to have it go perfectly again, despite a global pandemic. I just assumed that it would work, especially since it took two and a half years to get pregnant the first time around. I deserved an easy time.
My doctor carefully explained the process and my options of transferring one of my embryos: I have the option to do a natural cycle! That means basically no shots!
I am carefully monitored with blood work and ultrasounds and do a frozen embryo transfer. I’m pregnant!
But the initial hCG levels are way lower than my son, but that’s okay because the range varies so much. However, the feeling of doubt is in my mind.
The six-week ultrasound did not have remotely the same image as my son, and at eight-weeks I was told officially that there was no heartbeat and the pregnancy was not viable. I had a D&E that week, and found out later that my baby had chromosomal abnormalities, a common reason for miscarriage. I’m still waiting for my hCG to fall back to zero, five weeks after the procedure. I am exhausted.
Honoring loss and finding hope
So here I am, a member of a club no one wants to be a part of. I’m thinking about what this month means to me now and how this experience has changed me and will shape the rest of my life. I feel lucky to be offered some solace that this was not my fault, when I know many mothers struggle with whys and what ifs. I feel lucky to have a son from a cycle that was perfect. I feel humbled and a little embarrassed by how entitled I felt to be able to have another child. I feel connected to many people I’ve never met that have gone through this and will go through it in the future.
But most importantly, I still feel hopeful and determined despite being in the thick of it. I believe in modern medicine and science and my team at Penn Medicine: The nurses that call me every other day with the results of my blood work. The schedulers who know me and acknowledge my frequent visits. The kindness and recognition of my loss from all the staff at the outpatient procedure office. My doctor who calls me from her cell phone and makes a special appointment to see me when I’m feeling unsure. I feel like I am seen and not another number in a busy fertility clinic. Penn Medicine staff are pioneers in this field and I believe at my core that I will be able to give my son a sibling.
So to all the mothers out there who are part of this club: I see you. Take the time to feel and remember and honor your loss. But keep making plans and having hope. I believe that we’ll all get our rainbow, one way or another.
If you or a loved one has lost a child during pregnancy or infancy, Penn Medicine offers resources, including virtual grief support groups to share stories, ways to cope, and challenges with people who have experienced the same loss. Learn more about groups at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania and Pennsylvania Hospital by calling Unite, INC. Grief Support after Miscarriage at 484-758-0002.