My best friend has been struggling with IF for 5 years now. While she managed to get pregnant every now and then, it always ended up in a miscarriage at around 5-7 weeks.
When I got pregnant last year with only two rounds of simple hormonal treatments, our relationship started to deteriorate slowly. It was hard for her to be around me, I get it.
In fall, she asked me not to ask her about her fertility treatments. She said the last thing she needed was compassion from the pregnant me if she had to face yet another miscarriage.
Since fall, we didn’t talk much. It was hard. All I wanted to talked about was my pregnancy and then Timothy – and I wanted to spare her these details.
I heard through the grape vine that she was doing IVF, but I saw her drinking alcohol in February, so it was clear she was not pregnant. (I found out later that she had two attempts; one yielded nothing, the other ended up in a pregnancy that ended just after 4 weeks).
Finally, yesterday I found out that she is 12 weeks pregnant! The third IVF seems to have been successful. After five unsuccessful pregnancies, one of which was ectopic; after innumerable rounds of insemination; after three rounds of IVF; after 5 years of pain – she’s at the end of the first trimester!
She never got beyond 7 weeks before, so we are all cautiously optimistic this time around. She had her NT scan and all looked fine. She saw – for the first time – the baby move its limbs on the ultrasound.
I shed a tear when I learned the news. My heart shrinks a little with fear – what will happen if it ends up again, but at a much later stage? But then I hope, with all my heart, that this is it. That this time she will have her long-awaited baby!