Our journey to starting a family

I often get asked about our journey to starting a family: what it was like, how we did it, our feelings throughout the process, and our reflections now. I'd love to chat in depth with everyone who asks, but lately, it's been challenging to find the time to give each conversation the attention it deserves.

As someone who loves to stay positive and bring humor into every situation (even if I’m the only one laughing!), I want you to know that our journey to becoming parents is something I take very seriously. It's a topic close to my heart, and I want to share every detail of our experience. If you're not into a long read, this Substack might not be for you. I'm really writing this for the woman who is in the thick of her fertility journey. The one who will read this and think, "If God can do it for her, He can do it for me too!" This is for my past self, who would have hung on to every word, seeking hope and encouragement in the journey.

Our story started out in a very unexpected way—I got pregnant the very first time we tried. We were on a trip with some of our best friends in Montana and I just had a feeling I was pregnant. I made us all go to the pharmacy in Luther, Montana and I took the test in the bathroom. We could not have been more excited that it was positive!

I found out I was pregnant the day before my birthday, and I got to share the news with my mom (and the rest of the family) on her birthday. We were all on cloud nine, and everything seemed perfect. But about two weeks later, I started to see some blood.

This can be very normal, but that's one of the most challenging aspects of pregnancy—every symptom can mean so many different things. Bleeding can be normal, or it can be a sign of a future miscarriage. I've experienced bleeding with all three of my pregnancies. The first two ended in miscarriage, but the third brought us our precious Anna Cline.

After the bleeding stopped, we did some more bloodwork to check if everything was heading in the right direction. Thankfully, it was. Those days of waiting for the results felt like some of the longest days of my life. I was constantly praying, 'Lord, please let it double!' When we made it to 6 weeks, it finally felt like we could take a deep breath. We saw the heartbeat, and although it was a little lower than normal, no one seemed concerned. Well, no one except me. I believe it's a mother's intuition, her God-given discernment. It's so difficult to know the difference between intuition and fear. Let me tell you, fear and I battle it out on a daily basis, but I'll get to that later.

When we went back for our next ultrasound, there was no longer a heartbeat. I'll never forget being in that room on that day. You feel like maybe you could have done something differently, and things might have turned out another way. You desperately wish you could go back to those few minutes before you knew you had lost the baby. After that, we had a D&C and went home. I'll always remember the people who knew exactly what to say. So many pivotal people played a part in our story.

There was one gift during this time that I'll never forget. A week or so after the D&C, my friend Kaleigh brought me a Christmas ornament. It came at the perfect time, just when I felt like most people (including myself) expected me to go back to being my normal, happy-go-lucky self. The ornament came with a note that said something like, “We are so sorry for the loss of your first baby. I saw this ornament and bought one for you and for us. Each year, we'll hang it on our tree, and you'll hang it on yours, and we'll remember your first baby. One day, we will thank the Lord for your babies here on earth.”

We ended up needing another D&C because my levels weren't coming down as expected. After that, we tried again for a while with no luck, which was incredibly frustrating. Eventually, we decided to go to Alabama Fertility, and that's when our journey truly began. We underwent numerous tests, and thankfully, everything came back normal. So, we started on Letrozole, a fertility drug that helps with ovulation.

The first month we tried the medicine, we got pregnant again. We were over the moon! This time, I was pregnant alongside one of my best friends, Anna Cate. It felt like it was meant to be. But unfortunately, at 5 weeks, I experienced bleeding again, and we miscarried once more.

This time, I didn’t experience the same grief as I did the first time. The best way life after a miscarriage has been described to me is like learning to walk with a limp. It's like you broke your ankle: it hurts a lot at the beginning, but slowly your limp starts to go away as you heal. However, you'll always have that bad ankle. What happened will always shape the way you move and operate in life, just like you'll always be a little cautious with your once-broken ankle. It teaches you compassion, grace, and understanding.

“Pain is the gift that motivates us to fight with brave tenacity and fierce determination knowing there is healing on the other side.”

“I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born.” Isaiah 66:9

After this, we continued fertility treatments for many months, enduring several results of 'not pregnant.' I had surgery to remove endometriosis, went through multiple medicated cycles, and did 3-4 IUIs, all with no luck. There were so many wonderful people who helped me at Alabama Fertility—I truly can't say enough good things about them. However, my nurse, Susan, was particularly special.

Before our last medicated cycle, Susan and I had a heartfelt conversation. She said, “Alex, let’s give this one our all—our very best shot. We'll use all the medicine and pull out all the stops. But if you're not pregnant after this, I think it’s time to move on to IVF.” I wasn’t pregnant and so we moved on to IVF.

I can’t move on in the story without mentioning that I was a crazy person during our medicated cycles. Not from the medicine I was taking and not hormonally, but through my own crazy research. I felt like the more information I had, the more in control I would be. I became absolutely obsessed with research and information. I spent most of my days reading articles, Reddit pages, and TTC community blogs. I was taking a pregnancy or ovulation test every day—my bathroom looked like a lab. It had completely overtaken my life. Then, when we decided to do IVF, I was on a walk and felt the Lord speak to my heart, saying, “Shut it down. Stop all your research. Give it to me. I'll handle it all.” And I did. I deleted my apps, cleaned up my bathroom lab, and just lived my life for the first time in what seemed like 2.5 years.

It’s so hard to know when to seek fertility help, when to take medicine, or when to try IVF. There are so many decisions that feel like they're in your control. But that’s the thing with fertility—you can have everything seem perfect, but ultimately, it is the Lord who sustains and breathes life.

We started our egg retrieval journey full of hope. We ended up having a successful egg retrieval and we were so thankful and excited for what could be ahead.

Then came the next part: the transfer. We faced some tough moments here. Two cycles were canceled because my uterus wasn’t where it needed to be. We went through weeks of meds, only to have the cycles canceled last minute. It was so hard and disappointing. My doctor put it perfectly: when you don’t want to be pregnant, you absolutely don’t want to be pregnant. But when you’re ready to have a baby, you wanted to be pregnant yesterday—so every extra moment of waiting feels like an eternity.

When our third transfer date rolled around, we were told to cancel again because there was fluid in my lining. But something about it didn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were supposed to move forward. That Sunday, we went to church, and the sermon was about “fighting for your family and children.” Santi and I both felt it so clearly—this was our moment to fight for our family. Against the advice we were given, we decided to move forward with the transfer.

On October 25, 2022, we transferred Anna Cline. I’ve never felt such a mix of emotions—so much excitement and hope, but also fear. When we found out it worked, that we were pregnant, it felt like a dream. I knew the Lord had His hand on us, and we were so, so thankful.

On November 12, I had heavy bleeding and ended up in the ER. All they could see was the sac, and maybe a tiny yolk sac—but nothing more. It was terrifying. A few days later, on November 16, we went to Alabama Fertility for our first ultrasound, and the weight of that day felt unbearable.

I kept thinking about a dream a friend had shared with me a year earlier. In her dream, she was with me and someone else—someone going through a miscarriage. But in the dream, I wasn’t. I clung to that dream like it was the Lord telling me to trust Him. But as much as I wanted to hold onto that faith, the doctors kept saying things didn’t look good. It was such a battle between holding onto hope and facing what seemed like an impossible reality.

We went in hoping to hear a heartbeat, but instead, we were told there was no baby—no sac. We were told we’d lost the baby. In my sadness, I asked what gender they had transferred. I had always prayed for a healthy baby above all else, but when they told me it was a girl, the grief hit even harder.

That weekend, I had a trip planned with my mom and sister. Little did I know, that trip would end up saving Anna Cline’s life. Because I was traveling, my doctor advised me to stay on my progesterone so I wouldn’t miscarry while I was away. I followed their instructions, even though it was so hard. I was heartbroken and frustrated, questioning why I was continuing the medication when it all felt so hopeless. But looking back, it was such a clear moment of God working behind the scenes when I couldn’t see it.

On November 21, we went back to discuss what was next. I had so many questions and felt so unsure. Before starting the medication to help me miscarry, they decided to do one last ultrasound. And that’s when it happened - they said, “Look at this.” And there she was, our Anna Cline, her heart was beating 121 beats per minute. She was perfect. It was perfect. Anna Cline is the perfect picture of the Lord’s faithfulness to me! It made every single thing worth it.

I cling to the miracle of Anna Cline, especially in the moments when I need it most. Right now, we’re on the journey to grow our family again. A few weeks ago, we transferred another baby, but sadly, we aren’t pregnant. Tomorrow, I have surgery scheduled to get a better look at my uterus so we can start figuring out what went wrong and what needs to change for the next time.

Even with the incredible miracle of Anna Cline, I feel like I’m back in the trenches of this infertility journey. It’s hard, it’s heavy, and it feels so lonely at times.

To those of you walking through this too—I wish I could reach out and hug you. I want to tell you that you are doing the best you can, and I am so proud of you. Proud of your body for enduring all it has. And I want to remind you: it is worth it.

I wish we could join hands and stand together in this. If you’re going through it, please know I would love to pray with you and believe for your miracle too. You’re not alone.