“This might be a little uncomfortable,” my doctor said. I put my headphones in and clutched my iPhone, turning the volume up on my white noise app, and braced myself for another D&C.
She was hardly the first doctor to deliver those words. In fact, in the past nine months, I’ve heard those words a lot — through two natural pregnancies; one round of IVF; so many fertility tests, treatments, blood draws, shots; and two D&Cs.
I have a 12-year-old son from a previous relationship. I had him in my 20s, when the concept of fertility and motherhood was foreign and abstract to me. Becoming a mother changed my life in distinct and profound ways, and I knew I would welcome another child if ever remarried and the circumstances were right. Then I did remarry, and about a year ago, my husband and I started actively trying to get pregnant.
In March I was pregnant and miscarried early. In May I was pregnant again, was diagnosed with a missed miscarriage at eight weeks, and had a D&C in the beginning of June. By October, I was pregnant again, this time via IVF. On November 20, my birthday no less, I had another D&C for another missed miscarriage.