Through, Not Around: Stories of Infertility and Pregnancy Loss
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Through, Not Around: Stories of Infertility and Pregnancy Loss

Through, Not Around: Stories of Infertility and Pregnancy Loss

Overview

Everything doesn't (always) happen for a reason.



Infertility and pregnancy loss can be devastating, yet both are often private sorrows for the one in six people who cope with the experience. This collection offers personal stories about what it's like to go through the emotional and physical facets of infertility, miscarriage, and pregnancy loss: the pain, sadness, and desperation, the hope, humour, and frustration.



Through, Not Around offers reassurance to those in the midst of their own struggles that they are not alone and that it is possible to find acceptance and strength on the other side of grief. The way forward is by going through the grief, not around it.



Allison McDonald Ace, Ariel Ng Bourbonnais, and Caroline Starr are co-founders of The 16 Percent, a website dedicated to sharing stories of pregnancy loss and infertility. To read or share your story, visit the16percent.ca.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781459742963
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Publication date: 02/19/2019
Pages: 248
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.80(d)

About the Author

Allison McDonald Ace is a writer and communications manager for GoJava.ca, as well as the community board member on the Maternal Mental Health Committee at Sunnybrook Hospital. After experiencing a late-term miscarriage with her second pregnancy, she became an advocate for sharing stories of child loss to help others know they aren’t alone. Allison lives with her son and husband in Toronto.



Caroline Starr is a writer, editor, and community advocate. After being diagnosed at twenty-one with PCOS and later suffering a miscarriage, Caroline became committed to building a community surrounding infertility and miscarriage and openly discussing their impact on families. She lives with her son and partner in Toronto.



Ariel Ng Bourbonnais was diagnosed with premature ovarian aging at the age of thirty-three. She found strength and resolve in knowing that sharing her experience helps others. She works for the University of Toronto and is in the process of completing a memoir based on her personal experience with infertility through U of T's Creative Writing program. She is a proud Torontonian, wife, and (dog) mom.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 22: Round Two


Ariel Ng Bourbonnais



I’m relieved I don’t miss Dr. Singh’s call. I’ve been dying to know if my über-low egg reserve is now extinct. It’s been nearly two years since I’ve tested my AMH levels and I’ve mentally prepared myself to find out I have zero eggs left, at the tender middle age of 35.



What’s AMH? I had no idea until it was too late for me. AMH stands for anti-Müllerian hormone, and it’s easily measured by taking a blood sample. This test is not currently covered by the Ontario Health Insurance Plan (OHIP), but I think it should be because it’s important for women to benchmark their fertility health. And this blood test is a simple and quick way to capture a snapshot. High AMH generally indicates a greater egg reserve and better-quality eggs. Low AMH indicates a smaller reserve and sometimes that the quality is degraded, too. I tell myself it’s okay if my eggs are now rotten because I’ve already come to terms with my infertility after one miscarriage a few years back and many more years of struggling to conceive. I recently asked my doctor if I could pay for the AMH blood test again because it’s worth $75 to give me peace of mind, which is why Dr. Singh is calling me today. When I see her name pop up on my phone, I pick up right away. As usual, she doesn’t mince words.



“Ariel, the rest of your blood work is fine but we have your AMH results and you are at 2.9.” She sounds excited for the first time in our entire history of fertility-related conversations.



My coffeeless brain tries to compute what she’s saying. “2.9. How is this even possible?” My AMH was recorded at 0.78 a few years ago. I didn’t think I could improve my egg reserve at all and especially not by that much. It’s truly inconceivable, pun intended.



“I don’t know, but it’s a good thing. I know you said you and your husband were done trying, but I think you should go back to the fertility clinic. This at least warrants another conversation.”



“I guess we could talk about it again. 2.9, are you sure?” I ask.



“That’s what your results say. I’ll send your referral to the fertility clinic today, and if you don’t hear back from them within a few weeks, you call and let them know you’re a former patient of theirs and need to set up a new appointment.”



I’m glad she outlined the exact next steps I need to take, because I’m in a state of total shock. Hell, I think Dr. Singh is in shock, too. “Thank you for making my day,” I simply say.



I hang up and immediately call my husband, Lawrence. He’s not going to believe that I went from the 10th percentile of fertility to the 50th. I thought I had the eggs of a 45-year-old woman, but now I am back in my true age box. I’m skeptical. Something doesn’t add up and I’m trying to figure out what it is. I wonder if this is a miracle because of my recent lifestyle changes. I stopped eating meat and started doing cardio a few months ago. Could a regular trampoline class and no-burger lifestyle get me knocked up, with the help of my husband, of course? I’m confused but happy. Then I start to wonder if the lab made an error and my AMH is really 0.29 instead of 2.9. This would be logical, would make sense, and would align with my previous diagnosis. A score of 2.9 is heavenly, unimaginable, luxurious.



Lawrence picks up. “What’s up? I’m about to leave for work.” “Dr. Singh called and my AMH is 2.9, not 0.78.”



“See, I told you. I knew you were okay.” He sounds so relieved.



“I’m going to book us in to see the specialist, Dr. Adatia, again. Maybe we can do the government-funded IVF this time.”



My husband and I paid for one round of IVF two years ago because we wanted to save the government funding, in case we decided to proceed with an egg donor. The egg donor IVF is more expensive than my round of low-stimulation IVF was. My eggs needed to be more gently drugged because the regular doses of medication would have killed them off. During our IVF cycle, we retrieved four measly eggs and only one acted like it was supposed to with the sperm. One. This hurt even more when my best friend went through the IVF process a few months after I did and was able to retrieve 18 eggs.



We implanted the only egg with potential and it failed. My husband and I thought we were being smart by saving the government funding, but it ended up being a dumb decision because we didn’t go the egg donor route. We gave up all fertility treatments when the IVF didn’t work with my own eggs, and that was the end of that.



Or so I thought.



“Amazing, Love. I’m so happy. I knew it!” He is so happy that it turns my hardened heart as soft as a peony petal. I want to at least try to have his baby again. The worst that can happen is that it doesn’t work, and we’ve already come to terms with a no-kids lifestyle.



Or have we?



A few days later in a bathroom stall at work, my absolute favourite place to discover pregnancy, I find out that, in fact, I am pregnant. I had all the telltale signs that week. I had tender breasts, I was peeing every two minutes, and I was exhausted. I just didn’t believe it was actually possible for me to get pregnant again, so I read the signs as extra PMS fun.



“We conceived naturally,” I keep whispering to myself over and over again. This week is madness: first my AMH levels are practically in the normal range. Then I’m pregnant for the second time in my life without the intervention of a team of specialists. Somebody stop me.



When I tell Lawrence, he proudly says, “Cool, I knew it.” And he really did. Lawrence always believed there was a chance I could get pregnant again, but I shut him down each and every time. I owe everyone who’s ever told me that miracles happen a formal, written apology. The pessimist in me now has to believe in miracles, because this truly is a miracle. If I thought my AMH returning to normal levels for my age was good news, this is cake on top of cake on top of cake.

Table of Contents

Introduction 9

1 How to Be (Infertile) In The World Wendy Litner 11

2 Against Miracles Teri Vlassopoulos 17

3 A Quiet Funeral Allison McDonald Ace 26

4 The Stars In My Sky Nell McKay 33

5 IT'S Just Bad Luck Amelie Roberge 43

6 Spring Birthday Parties Melanie Orfus 53

7 Audrey Meaghan Mazurek 65

8 Born Out Of Stillness Carine Blin 76

9 The Five-Year Plan Sonal Champsee 89

10 Moving Out Of Infertility Sarah Coulson 105

11 My So-Called Infertile Life Nicole Armstrong 112

12 18 Eggs Cynthia Cyr 133

13 Circular Infertility Caroline Starr 144

14 The Pieces Of Me And You Neusa Arraial 153

15 Missed Conceptions Kelly MacCready 161

16 Not A Sprint Lauren Simmons 169

17 Nine Lives Kat McNichol 176

18 Sideline Grief Kyle Miller 195

19 In The Space Between Charlotte Dobo 204

20 Miscarriage AIN'T Easy … But It's Easier With More Than One Partner By Your Side Jenny Yuen 213

21 The Dandelion In My Belly Garden M.K. Shaw 222

22 Round Two Ariel Ng Bourbonnais 230

A Note Of Thanks From The 16 Percent 242

Editor Bios And Acknowledgements 243

Customer Reviews