We got our first BFP.
My beta hcg numbers grew like they were supposed to (137, 321, & 4127).
At our first ultrasound, my gestational sac was in line with where it should be for me to be 6w3d.

But...

There was no yolk sac. No fetal pole. The ultrasound tech looked for what felt like a freaking eternity.

I was nervous before we even got to the ultrasound room. Kirk tried to remind me that at THIS MOMENT, there’s no need to worry. At THIS MOMENT, we’re allowed to think positive and be happy. At THIS MOMENT, we can embrace the joy of being pregnant.

I’m trying. I really am. But Infertility has made me so. freaking. jaded. Absolutely nothing has gone correctly the first time during this entire journey. I wake up every day, tiptoeing around life, waiting to be sucker punched. My anxiety is through the roof. Every pain, every ache makes me think something is wrong. Does this get easier or will I spend the next 9 months thinking this isn’t going to work?!

As I lie on the itty, bitty ultrasound table, crammed into an itty, bitty room the size of a coat closet with Kirk, the ultrasound tech, Dr. Huber, and two med students, it took everything to not just start bawling as soon as Wanda was inserted. I knew what my scans were supposed to look like and there was nothing there. NOTHING.

The poor ultrasound tech tried everything to find the yolk sac & fetal pole. Is it hiding? Let’s try a different image color. Nothing. Let’s look at the fluid. Nothing. Charlie is a tested embryo. It should be there. The textbooks say you should be able to see it at 6 weeks. yet, nothing.

Dr. Huber was direct with his explanation. This happens for 2 reasons:

1. The embryo is just hiding along the thick uterine wall.
2. It’s an anembryonic pregnancy (also called a blighted ovum). In short: Charlie stopped growing.

He didn’t sugarcoat anything. He told us that we’re literally 50/50 here. He hoped like hell Charlie is just hiding, but there’s valid concern for anembryonic pregnancy. Ok, so what do we do? Well. We’re in limbo and wait. Again. We scheduled another ultrasound a week out. Then we prayed Charlie was hiding. I mean, this baby comes from two stubborn parents. It’s only natural that our first “viewing” is more complicated. Look, I get it. Some days, I don’t feel like looking at people. I want to hid in my corner of the world and just be. Maybe Charlie got stage fright. Or likes a good game of hide-n-seek. Or is already a pro at making me worry.

The week between our ultrasounds, I swear, lasted 1476 years. When it finally came time for our 2nd ultrasound, I felt like everyone knew our sad news except us. It just felt different. The ultrasound tech wasn’t her chipper self. There were no med students in the room. Just Kirk, myself, the tech, & Dr. Huber.

I get up close & personal with Wanda and… Nothing. Just a giant black hole (the gestational sac) of where our baby should be. Nothing. After the longest pause in the history of life, Dr. Huber finally calls it. It’s an anembryonic pregnancy. Cue all the emotions. Cue all the tears. Cue all the questions.

That’s it. I’m officially in a club I never, ever, ever thought I’d be in. A club that affects 1 in 4 women. I thought it was bad enough being a part of the 1 in 8 infertility club. Now, I’m a lucky member of the 1 in 4 miscarriage club. Fan-freaking-tastic. I’m sad. I’m angry. But I know, I know with all my being that I’ll be ok… eventually.

We scheduled a procedure called a MVA (manual vacuum aspiration). It’s exactly as it sounds: Dr. Huber will literally suck the pregnancy out of my body. I’m sure it’s more technical than that, but the short of it: he’ll vacuum out the failed pregnancy. This procedure is similar to a D & C (dilation and curettage), and typically used in early miscarriages.

I actually had 4 options to treat the miscarriage. Each one with its own list of pros & cons:

1. Conservative Management. I.E. Do nothing. Wait for my body to register that our pregnancy is no longer viable and handle it itself.
   - The biggest con here is that there’s no timeline. It could take my body up to SIX weeks to process the miscarriage. Um, no thank you.

2. Take a prescription for misoprostol. Basically, the same as #1, but it speeds up the process to having my body register I’m no longer preggers.

3. Be awake for the MVA

4. Be put under for the MVA

Here’s why I chose to be put under. Dr. Huber said we could do the MVA in the office, but that the pain could be worse than it was for the ERA biopsy. Say what?! WORSE? And you want me to be awake for that? Voluntarily?! Again, no thank you.

My heart hurts. My soul aches. Regardless of which decision we chose, my body is going to hurt, too. Let’s do whatever we can to lessen that pain. If knocking me out is ever an option - that’s the option I’m picking. I lost my baby. I don’t want to be awake when it’s removed from my body. That just seems cruel. it’s bad enough that I had to experience all the pregnancy symptoms after being told my pregnancy was no longer viable. My heart & soul know that I’m no longer pregnant. We just needed to get my body caught up.

These past few weeks have been a whirlwind. We were riding the high of being pregnant, even though I was hella nauseous 23 hours of the day. We started, and almost finished, our baby registries. I took my first bump pic - despite it looking more like a food baby. We settled on a nursery theme. We shared our new with our tribe. We couldn’t wait to get the first glimpse of our baby. And then our world came crashing down. Our pregnancy was no longer viable. I had a miscarriage. I then had surgery to remove the failed pregnancy. And now I have to heal - my body and my heart.

We may be down, but we are NOT out. Once my body has some time to heal, we’re starting this process over again. Yes, back to Square One. We do have 1 more embryo on ice (Alpha), but it’s a low-level mosaic. The fertility loan we took out to help pay for IVF only allows 2 transfers per egg retrieval. So, we’ll start with another retrieval - or extraction as Kirk like to calls it. Our hope is that we get better quality embryos & that we can transfer more than 1 embryo next time. For now, we’ll leave Alpha on ice.

We’re heartbroken. It’s hard to see the “joy” in this situation, but we know that God has a plan for us. (Albeit, we’d wish He would stop throwing all these painful hurdles our way.) All that’s left to do now is to wait for Aunt Flo to arrive. No one joyfully waits for her arrival. No one. Once she’s here, then we can joyfully wait for our second round of IVF.

Until then, we’ll mourn the loss of our baby girl. And we’ll heal. So we can be even stronger for our rainbow baby.

P.S. Thank you for those who reached out after Kirk shared the news on FB. Your calls, texts, and special deliveries really made us feel seen and understood. Thank you for loving us on the way y’all do. Keep it coming!