A Mosaic of Emotions: Music First, Foremost & Always

Music has been an integral part of my life, of my husband’s life, and of our life together. From creating playlists of our favorite songs to share with one another when we first started dating, to all of the concerts we got to experience together, to every “hey, listen to this one” text we’ve sent in the last many years. We have both found comfort, and release, and hope, and understanding in the foundation of music. 

It came as no surprise to me when I realized that each part of my journey to motherhood has had some sort of anthem, whether I’ve recognized it at the time or only in hindsight. There were constantly playlists running in the background of our lives - starting from the early days of trying to conceive at home, in the old-school, “natural” sense. Then, of course, there was the music that comforted us on our early morning drives to the fertility clinic, day after day, month after month, the songs that pumped us up during injection seasons, the lyrics that sat beside us in grief and the ones that we shouted in celebration, once we finally made it into the “safe zone” with my pregnancy in 2018. There was the song that I listened to over and over again when I was in labor, and there were very specifically curated playlists created for my daughter when she was born. 

This most recent season has looked no different for me, or for our family, when it comes to music. I have often been grateful to lyrics that say what I cannot, or express more eloquently what I am feeling, especially in the wake of loss, or grief, trauma or hurt. 

There’s been one song I just keep coming back to lately. 

You Begin Again, by Barry Manilow

Sometimes it's hard to believe
How simple life can be
Just when you think
You'll never reach the end
You're finally round the bend and see
There's no need to cry anymore
Life's better than before

Yesterday fades away into the past
The pain you thought would last
Is gone

And you begin again
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though you're heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again

Life's bittersweet mystery
Never tells what will be
You can create your own reality
And make your dreams come true
It's really up to you
If you begin again

Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though your heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again
When you begin again

And you begin again
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though you're heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again

I mean… 

It feels pretty much like this song was written about struggling with Infertility. 

If you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I struggled with unexplained infertility, and after 4 failed IUI’s, an Egg Retrieval, and a Failed Fresh Embryo Transfer, I finally had a successful Frozen Embryo Transfer, resulting in the birth of daughter in May, 2019. 

My experiences leading up & entering into motherhood shaped me significantly, and sharing our infertility + postpartum journey in a real, raw way online made me realize the significant support missing for others walking this same path. Enter my career transition, from clinical research to a new type of patient advocacy, coupled with emotional support, education and experience, and I began working as an Infertility and Postpartum Doula. 

Between my new career path & an immense amount of studying, learning and training, I felt more prepared than ever to try to expand our family again. 

I always have wanted several children, and to have them as close together in age as possible, so my husband and I began TTC again when my daughter was just a few months old. Honestly, I was convinced that we would be blessed with a “BOGO Baby” - a term used to describe a naturally conceived child after a baby resulting from a successful infertility treatment (IUI, IVF). After several months of disappointingly negative pregnancy tests, we returned to our RE to discuss baby #2 and the two remaining frozen embryos we’d stored away. 

The ASRM/ACOG recommendations for IVF is 12 months postpartum, so we set a date on the calendar for “refresh testing” and then FET prep. COVID delayed that date by several months, and then, we faced the somewhat unexpected. Our PGS normal embryo failed to grow after implanting in my perfectly thick uterine lining. We lost our baby boy.

Our next FET cycle was cancelled when a precautionary diagnostic uterine biopsy found Chronic Endometritis, and then antibiotics failed to treat it. A hysteroscopy finally cleared the tissue, and we launched confidently into another FET cycle - this one with our last remaining embryo.

When the transfer failed, I shattered inside. 

I was angry and frustrated and overwhelmed and really mad - at my body, at what came next, at having to start over, at wondering if we’ll ever see a positive pregnancy test again. 

Because I’m adamant about plans and actions, as soon as I miscarried our baby, I began prep for a mock cycle in order to complete an ERA. 

It’s important to note that personally, my family is also in the middle of a move, still in the middle of a pandemic, and just a few months out from my daughter's second birthday.

I’ve now been on moderate to high doses of hormones for eight consecutive months. I no longer know what my baseline is - mentally, physically, or menstrually. 

Every single thing feels emotional to me. 

Tears are constantly just under the surface, waiting for an excuse to bust through and rain down my cheeks. 

The feelings surrounding struggling with unexplained infertility, again, have gotten bigger for me. They’ve gotten more complicated. 

Today starts the launch of a new blog series - anchored by posts rooted in the sentiment of this Barry Manilow song. I hope you’ll follow along, and share anything that resonates with you. 

Much love,

Amanda