After R places the needles in the specific points on my body, she dims the lights, presses play on the radio, and shuts the door. Rainfall plays through her CD-player radio. The red light that hovers over my stomach for warmth, illuminates a spot on the ceiling with a subtle glow. I stare at the spot on the ceiling in total disbelief.
How could this all be possible? I asked for a sign to validate my hesitations with IVF, and then the clinic nearly flooded. I fall down a rabbit hole with angel numbers, and then have an employee – out of nowhere – ask if I’ve ever heard of them. As if the signs couldn’t feel any deeper, she then shares she is clairaudient and has a message for me. The angel numbers she shares ends up being the house numbers to the only other person aside from Scott who I’ve shared this vulnerable spiritual journey with. It feels as if every corner of my life is simultaneously coming together like a game of connect-the-dots. The disbelief deepens into gratitude, as I whisper thank you, Coralee.
April 2021
The sleeping buds start to wake and peek through the soil as birds sing their songs and the rays of sunshine – though never gone – start to feel warm. Winter is over and spring is here. The transition of a season – no matter which – is always my favorite.
It’s been four months of embracing this ‘spiritual awakening’ as I called it. I continued meditating at home, a practice I fit into my routine that I appreciated for the deep sleep it would put me in. I listened to podcasts with topics like energetic fertility methods and spiritual approaches to fertility. On weekends I walked to our local park at dawn, listening to a playlist I curated for these mornings, watching as the sun rises over the Chesapeake Bay. Sometimes Scott would join, and another time my sister-in-laws joined. One morning after watching the sunrise with my sister-in-laws, we practiced our calligraphy on cotton rag paper with each of us writing our own affirmations. I’m the luckiest girl in the world, I’d think to myself. I get to experience this with not just my husband, but my sisters – moments that feel like a hug to the soul.
One night I’m looking through social media feeling disconnected to all of the accounts I’ve followed for the last two years. I describe my feelings like crossing the bridge of sorrow, yet everyone I follow is stuck on the other side. Through the late night scrolls, I stumbled upon a book, Transcending Infertility by Dr Maria Rothenburger. I download the Kindle edition and begin reading, albeit I should be asleep. At the end of the second chapter, my eyes start to water with tears of happiness. Finally, someone I can relate to.
I Google the author, find her website, and immediately compose an email:
I become obsessed with this newfound sense of optimism, with positive changes happening all around me. For the first time since being off birth control and trying to conceive, I’ve had four 28-day menstrual cycles in a row. My hormones are finally happy, I tell Scott. Even though my cycles are regular and we use each new cycle as a fresh opportunity, we never get pregnant. However, we are okay – because we are knee-deep in this nature-loving, spiritual mindset and it’s my favorite phase of life thus far.
We bird watch at the park in the morning with my new binoculars, and fish at the neighborhood pier in the evening. We spent the weekend with friends floating down the lazy river in Cumberland with margaritas and a waterproof speaker. We drove to the beach for a long weekend where we visited local fish-markets, beach bars, and lighthouses. Just a few months earlier, we watched Idaho: The Movie which showcased Idaho’s natural hidden treasures, a state that we never had any desire to visit and were ignorant to its beauty. We decide in early summer to close the restaurants for a week in August so all employees can enjoy a vacation after a year of precautions and staff shortages. After watching the movie, Scott and I look at each other wondering if we’re sharing the same thought. Is this where we go for our August vacation?
August 2021
We fly into Spokane, Washington where we stay in a boutique hotel with a hip cocktail bar in the lobby and what we call the ‘hipster dive-bar pool hall’ across the street. We loved our night in Spokane, but looked forward to the road trip the next morning which landed us in Sandpoint, Idaho. We hiked – what I call the most challenging hike of my life – that ended in a rewarding view of the lake surrounded by mountains. We then make our way to the final destination, our stay in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. We spend the mornings hiking the famous Tubbs Hill trail where we jump off the cliffs into the lake, and the evenings strolling the main street finding our way in any bar playing live music. We have what feels like a refreshing vacation that symbolizes the beauty of the past several months. Perhaps it was the reflection in the calm lake, or the reminder of nature’s peaks and valleys that mirror our own.
The crisp breeze that would brush over our sun-kissed skin in the evening was a gentle reminder that the season was about to change. And if we were to move forward in our journey, we too, would have to embrace change.
September 2021
We come home from the trip feeling ready for the next steps. Unlike earlier in the year, this feels right. Perhaps it was the months of healing we needed to lead to this moment, or the lessons of calm to keep us resilient.
We decide the military hospital is too far away and the daily appointments would not work with our schedule. U was offered an out-of-state yoga position and though I was crushed for the cafe, I couldn’t have been happier for her. At this point, there were days where I was running the front of the house by myself, and other days my step-sister would come to help. I called my business partner, who was in the same situation at our second location across town – J, we’re going to start IVF. The appointments will be local and in the morning – if anything we’ll have to open an hour late. I know with work the timing isn’t the best, but we have to do this.
She agreed that there will never be a good time to start a family while owning a business. Life will continue to life, trust your gut and I will too – she says with support and assurance.
Scott and I call our original clinic and inform them we are interested in IVF. Within a few days we receive a spreadsheet of our options from the financial counselor. We look at the paper in agony. How do people afford this? Unfortunately, our insurance covers nothing. After weeks of debate and a fight with the bank for a second mortgage, we decide on the money-back-guarantee program. Six rounds of IVF and unlimited transfers until our first live birth. We can drop out of the program at any time with no questions asked and get a full refund if unsuccessful.
We also decide on Preimplantation Genetic Testing for Monogenic Disorders (PGT-M) to test our embryos for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy – an additional expense and option that our doctor suggests. We call the company who performs the testing and begin their waivers and paperwork process.
After completing the paperwork, we receive an unexpected email from the genetic counselor –
The challenge is that we cannot detect the duplication that Lindsay was identified to carry directly in embryos. So, the testing would depend on indirect analysis (i.e. linkage analysis) only. Prior to being able to initiate the probe development process, we will require genetic testing results on Lindsay’s parents, confirming if either of them carries the exon duplication. Alternatively, if the couple have an affected child, a copy of their child’s report will be sufficient. Without these results in advance, we are, unfortunately, not able to offer PGT-M.
My head starts to spin. We do not have an affected child nor parents. What happens now? Luckily my phone rings and it’s our nurse. She is equally bummed about the news, but does offer another suggestion. You can still test for Preimplantation Genetic Testing for Aneuploidy (PGT-A) which will test your embryos for any abnormal chromosomes and also determine the sex. She continues to explain that although this will not test for a specific disorder, like DMD, this does give us better odds at transferring a euploid embryo which has the highest success rates for a live birth. Additionally, we can determine the sex and transfer a female embryo, giving you time to gather more information about your genetic mutation affecting males.
A girl. I flash back to the beginning of our relationship where I ask Scott what he thinks of the name Coralee, and if I would scare him off if I told him that’s going to be the name of our daughter one day. A premonition that I’ve had my entire life, may soon make way to reality.
The plan is in place and the financials are arranged, so we sign the contracts. Within a few days, our nurse sends over the calendar and instructs us to order medications. We study the 8-week calendar in disbelief at how fast this is happening. My first injection will begin on October 13th then ten days later I’ll go in for the retrieval. Five days after the retrieval, we will await to see how many embryos we have and then they’ll be sent for PGT-A testing, which takes another two weeks. I have to take birth control and prenatal vitamins while we wait for the transfer on December 13th and finally the blood test on December 23rd.
It’s finally happening. The papers are signed, the dates are secured, the medications are ordered. How can we feel anything other than excitement?
October 2021
Monday October 6th I drive to work anticipating a busy morning, as Monday mornings tend to be. The cafe is closed during the weekend so Monday morning requires an extra push. It’s a week before our injections begin and although Scott and I are excited, I worry about the logistics of balancing my upcoming appointments with work. I remind myself that it will only be ten days of monitoring, the appointments are every other day, and if I have to open the cafe late it won’t be the end of the world. As reality sets in, I question whether or not this was the responsible thing to do. I remind myself of what J said just a few week’s prior: life will life, there will never be a good time, trust your gut.
I’m less than a mile away from the cafe when I receive a panicking call from our chef. Lindsay we have a huge problem, they said, our walk-in refrigeration unit is 70 degrees and we lost everything. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut. This is every restaurant owner’s fear: broken refrigeration means loss of inventory and unknown days of closure.
I call our emergency repair contact who is able to meet within the hour. I arrive and see for myself the amount of food that has spoiled. The unit has been down for at least two days, and with us being closed on weekends we suspect it happened Friday evening. As I begin to document the loss, throw product away, and notify patrons about the situation, the electrician arrives. He goes into our walk-in, inspects the compressor, and approaches me with a look of fear. His voice shakes of concern – I am so sorry to tell you this, but you need a new compressor, and with today’s supply chain, this could take three weeks, he says hardly making eye contact. My jaw tightens and the lump in my throat grows.
I call J and give her the update. I freeze in fear and uncertainty as I wait for her to process the news, but contrary to my reaction, J remains calm on the other line.
Take a deep breath, she says, and let’s think this through. First, make signs to post on the doors to let the public know. Second, this is entirely out of our control. If we are closed for three weeks, your team will come be with our team and maybe for three weeks we will have one fully staffed restaurant. No one will be out of work and everything will be okay.
And just like that, once again, her reassurance and support is just what I needed. Our chef and I spend the rest of the day pitching food, deep cleaning the restaurant, and answering the phone letting customers know of the situation. At the end of the day, we discuss the next day’s plan to meet at our second location. We joke that the family will be back together, just like we were prior to opening the second shop.
I call J on my home from work for the daily recap. Look at the silver lining, she says, you’re going to make all of your upcoming appointments without worrying about the cafe. And for the first time all day, I grin a genuine smile.
The following three weeks went exactly as predicted. As repairs were underway, our team joined forces and worked together under one roof for the first time since opening our second location. I started the injections and was able to go to the monitoring appointments without having to rush to work, relieving a burden I carried for weeks.
I read horror stories of IVF injection side effects, especially to those with PCOS and elevated risks of Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, a rare but possibly severe complication of stimulation. However, my experience was nothing but the opposite. I jokingly asked my nurse if the shots were working, given my mood and energy levels were through the roof. She laughed in response and shared that I’m considered one of the lucky ones.
The day of the retrieval came and I was grateful to have the day off work with such support. I go back into the room, prepare for anesthesia and roll off for what felt like the best nap of my life. The next thing I know, a nurse is waking me up with an exciting update – great news Lindsay, we retrieved 23 eggs!
She explains that I have to stay in the room for another hour to recover, but my retrieval went well and I’ll receive a call the following day for a fertilization report. I lie back patiently waiting for the hour to end, and can’t help but overhear the women next to me – only separated by a curtain – who are waking up to the news of their results. To the left of me, they only retrieved one egg, and to the right of me, they retrieved three. I close my eyes and lie back with deep gratitude.
The nurse walks me out to the waiting room where I see Scott, who is waiting with the biggest smile on his face. The nurse was updating him every step of the way. He grabs my hand as we walk in the elevator and contains his excitement as best as he could. It wasn’t until we were in the parking lot where he yells LET’S GOOO! 23 eggs, today is October 23rd, I wore my Jordans today, and we will find out we are pregnant on December 23rd! 23 is the angel number and this is our time!!
J encouraged me to stay home the following day to recover, and although physically I felt great, mentally I was a mess. My day of recovery was spent nervously pacing the house awaiting the fertilization report. IVF attrition rates are no joke, in fact, the infertility community deems this the ‘IVF Hunger Games.’ Scott and I had to watch a module on attrition rates to understand that a loss of eggs and embryos is to be expected and a natural part of the process. My nerves were high nonetheless.
The phone rings. I sprint to the kitchen where I had purposely set up a pen and paper. Hi Lindsay, I am calling with your fertilization report. My heart pounds as I hold the pen, anxiously listening for the numbers. Out of 23 eggs, 11 were mature and 9 fertilized. We will give you a call in five days for the next report!
I hang up the phone, look down at the paper, and try not to throw up. How did we go from 23 eggs to 11? This is the only part of the process where the least amount of attrition occurs, yet I lose more than half of my eggs. I felt heartbroken. I email my nurse for reassurance, to which she quickly replies:
9 is a great number! It’s very common for only roughly ½ the eggs to be mature or fertilize, so this is a very normal/good result. Of course with IVF we are greedy and the more eggs the better, but 9 is a good number to have to work with. Dr. M is happy with these results.
I take a deep breath and my nerves subdue. It’s now a waiting game, and thankfully I get to work alongside J for the next few days at our second location while repairs are still underway. In just a few days, Friday to be exact, I will get a call about how many embryos we will have for testing. Although I feel great about the nurse’s optimism, I begin to hold my breath at the thought of the call.
Friday morning I told Scott my plan for the day. I’m going to leave my phone in the car, have an excellent day of work, then listen to the voicemail on my way home and we can celebrate this evening with great news!
It was an unexpected day at work filled with many unexpected emotions. We received the call that repairs were going to be wrapped up that weekend and as we shared the news with our staff – everyone was bummed. Do we really have to go back? – one of our chefs asked, in a tone that was not meant to be taken seriously. Then another chimes in, but we love working together. Then our third chef adds, well, it was fun while it lasted. As banter continues, J and I absorb it all in and lock eyes. What if we didn’t go back? What if this is how it was supposed to be all along? What if all the dots are aligning and all we have to do is connect them? And just like that – our decision to stay in one location was made.
As I leave work, I rush to my car realizing that the second part of my day will be as equally heavy as the first. I open the voicemail, glancing at the preview as the message plays and the nurse cuts to the chase: we have five embryos being sent for testing.
An excellent day, indeed.
November 2021
We are a few days away from receiving the results of our embryos. Although our plan is to transfer a female embryo, I cannot take my mind off of Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. I come across Parent Project Muscular Dystrophy, a nonprofit organization fighting to end Duchenne through research, care, and advocacy. I sign up to be a part of a study that I qualify for as a female carrier. A genetic counselor within the organization reaches out to me and asks for my genetic results from the fertility clinic. Upon receiving them, she asks to schedule a call. Scott, this could be great information. I’m talking to the counselor who specializes in this disorder, I say with excitement.
The following day the counselor calls me while I am at work. I slide into the office and close the door. She explains how complex genetic testing is, and validates how confused I must have been upon receiving them. She explains that they have years of studies and data regarding DMD and the genetic mutations that cause the disorder. She shares that there is only one case reported with my specific mutation, and that this particular person does not have any muscular deterioration, but instead cardiomyopathy. She explains that some mutations can be mild or benign, and while she cannot guarantee everything will be okay, she can assure that this may not be as severe as we had thought.
I sigh in relief, then ask, how can we be proactive regardless? What if I am pregnant with an affected male, how do we provide him the best possible plan? She discusses an amniocentesis, monitoring post delivery, doctors and specialists throughout their young life – and when she says a specific location I can’t help but laugh.
I do not mean to laugh, I say, but this is just too great of a coincidence. Can you believe the one place on the east coast that you are recommending we go to, is the place that I own a cafe in – and I’m actually here right now.
Once again, there are my dots. This time, the connection was necessary as later that day I get an email from my nurse:
Your results are ready. You have three euploid embryos.
And they all are male.
–
I stare at the results with complex emotions. These are not the results we anticipated, nor the plan the doctor suggests, but suddenly I do not care. I am empowered by the call with Parent Project Muscular Dystrophy. I am done trying to control this situation. We have done enough, and just like the clinic flooding a year ago, or the refrigeration unit breaking last month – some things are out of our control.
Scott answers the phone at the first ring. We have three embryos. And they’re all male, I say.
Oh – he says, confused with how to react. What do we do?
We transfer. We prepare. We let life, life, I say.
And that’s exactly what I shared with the doctor when I called and said we want to move forward with our transfer in three weeks.
