I always imagined having 3 or 4 kids, but life has a way of surprising us. At 29, I got pregnant for the first time, and like most expecting mothers, I was eager to see a doctor. However, in the U.S., doctors typically won’t see you until you’re at least 8 or 9 weeks along. Even though my pregnancy test was positive at 5 weeks, I was told to wait.
Each day, the lines on my pregnancy tests grew darker, but I had a gut feeling something was wrong. Despite my concerns, the hospital receptionist insisted I wait. At 8 weeks, I felt a slight pinch in my lower belly, and that was it—I had an early miscarriage.
I bled for almost two months. Despite the heavy bleeding, all the hospital did was confirm the miscarriage through blood tests. It was heartbreaking, but I was still hopeful we could try again.
Six months later, I got pregnant again. This time, I requested an earlier appointment due to my previous miscarriage, but the hospital only scheduled me for daily blood tests over two weeks. It was exhausting and stressful, and in the end, it confirmed another miscarriage.
Some people might say it wasn’t a “real” pregnancy since it was too early, but to me, a positive test meant I was pregnant. If you’re uncomfortable with this perspective, feel free to skip this post.
After another month of heavy bleeding, I finally saw a doctor who checked whether I needed a D&C but it wasn’t necessary. When we voiced our concerns about the repeated miscarriages, the doctor brushed it off, saying, “Third time’s a charm.” My husband and I were not impressed.
While visiting my parents, I saw a hometown OB-GYN who performed an HSG (hysterosalpingogram). He said everything looked healthy. Friends told me that after an HSG, many women get pregnant more easily, and sure enough, I got pregnant again. But once again, I miscarried at 7 weeks.
These constant miscarriages were taking a toll on both my body and my spirit.
We decided to switch hospitals. Although the new one was 45 minutes away, the staff and doctor were kind and understanding. The doctor suggested hormone treatments to help with conception, so I started taking Clomiphene. We were hopeful, but all I got were intense hot flashes. After six months with no success, COVID-19 hit, and I became seriously ill, bedridden for four weeks.
Once I recovered, the doctor recommended Letrozole. Unfortunately, I kept getting sick again, each time for months. A year later, the doctor performed another HSG and found that my right fallopian tube was blocked, possibly from an ectopic pregnancy I hadn’t known about. He also found small fibroids, but they weren’t concerning. Then, the doctor left the practice, and once again, we were back to square one.
At this point, my husband and I decided to take a step back. If it happens, great, if not, we’d come to terms with it. Around this time, my period became irregular. I tried supplements like Myo-Folate and Indole-3-Carbinol, but instead of helping, I ended up with a full month of bleeding.
It took three months to see a new doctor, but she left the practice shortly after my appointment. She ordered lab tests, but irregular bleeding prevented me from completing two of them. Before leaving, she referred me to a fertility specialist. Meanwhile, our local clinic had discontinued its infertility services.
We traveled 3 hours to a new clinic, where our journey continues. They’ve ordered lab tests for me and genetic tests for my husband. We’re waiting to see what the tests reveal and what our insurance will cover before deciding our next steps.
Thank you for reading this long and winding story. I’ll continue to share updates as we move forward.
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