Life After Loss

One week of IVF.
One week of medications, injections, and carefully mixing vials of pharmaceuticals at my kitchen counter.

One week of cautious optimism, anxiety, doubt, prayer, and quiet hope — all tangled together with a flicker of belief that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

The world of IVF isn’t talked about enough. The financial burden alone is staggering — most insurance plans cover little to none of it. I pray that one day, fertility services will be more accessible to women everywhere.

But the emotional toll? That’s the part no one prepares you for.

I’ve always found comfort in control. It grounds me. It makes me feel safe. I like rules. I hate surprises. So this not having a clear answer, not knowing whether this will work or not feels unbearable at times.

Each visit to the clinic brings a strange mix of reassurance and restlessness. I hear that things “look good,” and I smile politely.
But inside, I’m still questioning everything.

Isaiah 41:10 says:

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Having faith in the midst of this uncertainty has been one of the hardest tests of my life.
I’m leaning into God’s word — trusting that He is good, that He is with us, that His plans are full of purpose and love.

The doubt creeps in sometimes. But then I remember the verse I wear on my shoulder — the same shoulder that rocked Jack to sleep, that held him as he met Jesus — and I remind myself:

He has good plans.

I haven’t allowed myself to prepare for bad news. Right now, I’m holding tightly to the belief that God will provide. That He knows the desires of my heart. That children and families are among His greatest creations.

Here’s where we are, medically speaking:
For the first four days, I injected 150 IU of Menopur each morning and 300 IU of Follistim each evening. I’ve been closely monitored with ultrasounds every other day.
On day five, we added 250 IU of Ganirelix in combination with my morning injection.
And on day 7 we took the next step: a 20 MG dose of oral progesterone with my evening injection.

I go back to the clinic Monday. Another ultrasound. More decisions. Hopefully, egg retrieval will happen sometime this week.

Holding onto belief is the hardest part.

Some days, I feel grounded — even hopeful.
Other days, it feels like my world is on the edge of shattering all over again. Every symptom could mean something.
Or nothing. A twinge, a cramp, a headache —
Was that good? Was it normal?
Should I be feeling that?
The constant second-guessing is exhausting.

But still — I show up.
One shot, one pill, one day at a time.
Because I believe this road might just lead us to a beautiful new member of our family, while never forgetting the one we lost too soon.

We are praying.
— For continued follicle growth.
— For a good appointment Monday.
— For a smooth and successful egg retrieval with a healthy number of eggs.
— For our doctors to have wisdom, clarity, and steady hands.
— For our country to learn to support and uplift instead of tear down. (Different topic, I know. But if you’re praying, why not add that in too?)
— For the women walking through infertility, IVF, and every kind of medicated path to motherhood.

And always we are praying for our sweet Nora. Our gentle Jack. And hopefully, one day, the fifth member of our family.