Part 4: Not Giving Up

By Leah Taylor

Catch up on Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 of Leah’s story here!

Transfer number seven: negative.

Although I was once again disappointed, I had a yeah, whatever attitude towards this negative – with that one out of the way, the next one is sure to work.

Transfer number eight, check. I was back on cloud nine! My son had worked on IUI number eight, so maybe it was fate!

After everything I had been through, I had learnt a huge amount about fertility. By this point, I understood my body a lot better, I had even learned the signs and symptoms my body gave off in the very early stages of pregnancy and could pin-point ovulation. In saying that, I’d happily trade this information for an easier process.

The two-week-wait is the hardest part of the treatment in my opinion – it’s like being stuck in limbo. The wait seems like forever.

I was up to day six of my two-week wait and I just knew it had worked. I knew I was pregnant for a third time. This embryo was perfect, it was hatching out – just waiting to become a sibling to my little miracle baby boy who was now almost five-years-old. I could feel it.

This blood test phone call was one I already knew the results of, but you can never hear enough of someone saying you’re pregnant!

I knew it! Lucky number eight. My levels rose nicely over the next few days. I was so excited – it was Christmas time, and I had the best present of all… a beautiful son with another on the way.

Since my son came to most of my appointments with me, he learned way too much about the whole process. He thinks babies are made at Monash, and if you want a baby, you simply go to Monash, have an egg put in your tummy and voila, you get a baby. If only it were that easy!

My son knew that Mummy had had an egg put in and that we needed to wait to see if it grew. He gets so excited at the thought of having his own baby, bless him! When I dreamt of which sex the baby would be and asked my son if he would like a brother or a sister, I was also a little scared. I was scared about my upcoming seven-week scan, but again I tried to turn my negative thoughts into positives. This was the one, lucky number eight.

Soon, I started spotting, which went on for a week, increasing in volume. It could have just been early pregnancy implantation bleeding again, so I bombarded Dr Google to convince myself it was a normal part of the process.

Then, the day after my 34th birthday, I was having a lovely nap when I woke feeling a little weird. I made it to the toilet just in time only to see a mass amount of bright red blood. Once again, this beautiful life inside of me that was so eager to exist was taken away from us in a split second.

In walked my son (because when you have child not even the toilet is a private place, but I wouldn’t change that for the world) and before I could cover up anything, he saw everything.

A typical male response of “eww, that’s gross!” and suddenly, despite all my sadness, I couldn’t help but break a little smile. I told him to go out to Daddy and just give me a minute, but being a curious four-year-old, he needed to know what had happened to Mummy.

It was the hardest thing in the world holding back my tears while I went on to explain, “you know how Mummy had the egg put in her tummy? Well, Mummy’s egg didn’t work.”

Each time this had happened before, he had gone about his business without a worry, as he should. But this time, I saw the tears start to well in his eyes as he jumped at me with huge open arms. I couldn’t hold mine back now. We lay on the bed and cried and just as I had almost pulled myself together he asked, “Mummy, I’m never going to get a brother or sister, am I?”

It broke my heart, but my determination for another child increased. By hell or high water, I was going to give this child of mine a sibling. I was going to do whatever it took. I never wanted to see those tears in my son’s eyes again. I wanted the next tears in his eyes to be ones of happiness when he looks at his freshly-brewed brother or sister.

Four-and-a-half years I’ve been on this emotional roller coaster, but I’m not getting off until it gives me the prize at the end. It can push me down, it can throw me around, it can bump me here and there but it will never kick me off until I see my son hold his sibling.

Infertility is not just messing with me, but with my son too and I will not stand for that. I’m fighting back. And I’m going to win. No matter what it takes.

Leah is the mummy to a beautiful little miracle and second baby-mama to be. This is the final part of her journey for now, but we have everything crossed for Leah and her beautiful little families’ future journey.

Part 1: Fertility

Part 2: Unexpected Surprises 

Part 3: Making A Sibling 

Part 4: Not Giving Up

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