Karen’s Story

My journey to motherhood started like many others, full of excitement and the assumption that it would just work out.

Within three months of trying, we were pregnant. We were overjoyed. But that joy didn’t last long. Around five weeks, I miscarried. We were heartbroken, but we tried to stay hopeful. Then, the very next month, I was pregnant again. It felt like a miracle, like maybe the first loss had just been a terrible fluke. But at six weeks, we lost that pregnancy too.

That was the moment I realized this wasn’t random. I went to the doctor looking for answers, but I kept hearing the same thing. Everything looks normal. Sometimes this just happens. Just keep trying. I never accepted that, because deep down it never felt right.

Loss changes you. There is no way around it. When you lose a pregnancy, you don’t just lose a moment in time. You lose the dreams you had already started building. You imagine birthdays that will never happen, tiny hands you never got to hold, and a future that suddenly disappears. The grief is hard to explain unless you have lived through it. It is the grief that keeps on giving.

Eventually I started digging deeper into my family’s medical history and pushing for more testing. At a fertility clinic, I had to advocate for myself more than I ever expected. I kept asking to be tested for a rare blood clotting disorder called PAI- 1 4G/5G. Doctors didn’t initially think it was necessary, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was being missed.

After a lot of pushing, we finally got an answer. I did have the blood clotting disorder, which can cause recurrent early miscarriage. For the first time since this journey started, we felt like we had a real explanation. The plan seemed simple. The next time I got pregnant, I would start Lovenox and aspirin right away to prevent clotting issues.

We thought we had finally solved the mystery. But then another challenge appeared. Almost a full year passed without a single positive pregnancy test. Despite trying everything we could, nothing was working. We eventually went to another fertility clinic and started a full round of testing. I had an HSG, hysteroscopy, and what felt like endless appointments.

Nothing major showed up, so we decided to try IUI. Our first cycle failed. Our second cycle never even had a chance because polyps and cysts came back just six weeks after my hysteroscopy surgery. That’s when doctors started to suspect endometriosis.

At that point we decided to move forward with IVF. I had laparoscopic surgery and two additional hysteroscopies. During those procedures, doctors confirmed endometriosis and removed polyps, fibroids, cysts, and endometriosis growths. Even with a low AMH, we moved forward with IVF and hoped for the best. Somehow, by what truly feels like a miracle, our first egg retrieval gave us two euploid embryos. After everything we had been through, that alone felt like an incredible gift.

Before transfer, I completed two months of Lupron suppression for endometriosis. My protocol included Lovenox, aspirin, antihistamines, steroids, and everything we had learned about my body along the way. Endless patches, pills, suppositories, and injections – for months. Then something amazing happened. Our very first embryo transfer worked.

After all the tests, surgeries, waiting, heartbreak, and uncertainty, I am now in my second trimester with our double rainbow baby girl, due late September 2026.

Looking back, I see that the most painful chapter of my life also taught me the most. If we had not lost our first two babies, I might never have discovered my blood clotting disorder. I might never have learned about the endometriosis that was quietly affecting my body. And we may never have found the treatments that made this pregnancy possible.

As hard as that journey was, it led us exactly where we needed to be. Our first two babies will always be part of our story. They were the ones who made me a mother first. I believe they helped guide us to the answers we needed. In my heart, I know their souls made their way back to us through the two embryos we were blessed with. One of them is growing inside me now.

Every day I am reminded that even after the darkest storms, rainbows really do appear.