When we started trying to get pregnant, I was told not to worry. I was young, healthy and it would just take a bit of time. Nothing seemed to work and we started on our journey of fertility treatments. After surgery and medication I got pregnant right away. I was so happy and felt like I had won. I was told not to worry and that things were fine. We saw a heartbeat, got a due date and bought a few things. 

Then, shortly into my second trimester I started bleeding. I was told not to worry, that things were okay. We had another ultrasound and saw the heartbeat and baby moving. Then I heard the words “incompatible with life.” My baby was not developing properly and we were advised termination or we could wait until the baby died and potentially passed naturally. 

This was February 2020. I completely disassociated, I wanted this over. I was sad, angry and scared. I had an abortion and weeks later, while I was still in agony, the world shut down. I had no follow up, no help. I was traumatized while trying to go about my normal life. I didn’t know how to ask for help, I didn’t even know what kind of help to ask for. I was told not to worry, miscarriages happen all the time, even late term ones. Just try again. No one let me mourn. I lost a lot of relationships. My story scared people or they just couldn’t be around my grief. 

We tried again. I was terrified, heartbroken. I felt ashamed for not learning the gender of my baby, not giving my baby a name. I felt like I had done something to cause this. I went through every invasive and painful test and finally onto IVF. 

We were successful with IVF. I became pregnant on our first try. I also became anxious, hyper-vigilant and paranoid. Analyzing every wipe after the toilet, every symptom, using a home Doppler multiple times a day. I wanted no baby shower, I told no one I was pregnant, I was terrified that this baby would die too.  I did not want to get attached as I felt like it would soften the loss. 

I talked to my doctor about my anxiety—it was evident I was not well. He prescribed me anti-anxiety medication and antidepressants. I reluctantly took them. Worried I’d harm this baby too. But they helped me so much. I did as much therapy as I could afford and developed some coping mechanisms that help me still. If I could go back I’d tell myself to take the medication and to seek help sooner. I had no idea how badly I was suffering. 

My labour was smooth, my delivery sideways. After four hours of pushing, my baby was stuck and I was hemorrhaging. I didn’t want a c section at all but I was wheeled in for an emergency c section. My daughter was delivered healthy and alive. I was not in a great state. I had lost a lot of blood, I was vomiting profusely and I could not hold her. We didn’t get that skin to skin in the first hour, I didn’t get to nurse her. She was given a bottle of formula and I again felt like I had failed another baby.

 I struggled with breastfeeding; low supply. I saw lactation consultants, doctors, took domperidome to try to improve my supply. I felt like I had made so many mistakes and it was my fault. I ended up developing a severe infection and was hospitalized for a week with a surgery. I struggled for months trying to triple feed round the clock. Nursing, formula, and pumping. It was horrible. I felt like I wasn’t working hard enough, like if I just tried harder, it would work out. Then after months my lactation consultant said that formula was okay. I should enjoy my baby and feed her whatever way I was able. She told me I was a good mom and to enjoy my baby  in the now. I finally had permission to forgive myself. I want women to know that they did not fail their babies if they do not  breastfeed or exclusively breastfeed. You did not fail your baby for giving them formula in the hospital. 

My daughter thrived and seemed to be healthy until 11 months. She was diagnosed with a life threatening blood disease. I felt like this is it, the other shoe is about to drop. I don’t deserve this perfect child. I became anxious, scared and hyper vigilant again. Googling, searching, and analyzing everything. I was terrified she was going to die. I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself again. I told her doctors my story, that I needed help and all my fears. I felt that this time I was finally heard. I still struggle every time we enter the hospital and I make this known to providers. She is doing much better and I am trying to allow myself hope and optimism instead of emotional cushioning. 

I want to also acknowledge the financial implications of infertility, loss and/or chronically ill children. The time off work and the costs of treatments are never really talked about. On top of the mental and physical agony we are navigating the balance of loan payments and hours worked. 

 While I’m still struggling and working through my trauma and pain. I now know to advocate for myself. To surround myself with allies and other people who have been in my shoes. Loss, infertility and now a chronically ill child have broken me down and rebuilt me into a completely new person. I need more help now and I am learning that it is okay. I continue to tell providers what I need and make sure they listen. I allow myself to feel the pain of my journey. From conception to birth—nothing went to plan. I am allowing myself as well to feel joy, to feel happy, to embrace the duality that goes with my life. I have a beautiful daughter. I also lost a baby in a very traumatic way. 

Some days are still hard. A man in the grocery store told me my daughter was beautiful and I should have more kids. Comments like this lead me to a spiral of anxiety because I’m an IVF mom, I may never have more kids. The family I dreamed of is most likely out of reach. However, I struggle with survivor’s guilt of having a living child when so many people do not. Learning to cope and live with pain and happiness has not been easy. 

I continue to share my story when I can to let others know that they are not alone, that there is help and it’s okay. I hope to inspire others on this journey that you can be brave and also terrified. Advocate for yourself because regardless of situation or outcome you are worthy. Sometimes sitting with someone who truly understands is helpful. 

—Emma