Infertility, aka Unwanted Childlessness

So we experienced a first trimester twin miscarriage back in January 2019. It was awful, but we remained hopeful – the midwives cheerfully waved me along after my post-miscarriage appointment; “see you in a few months!” they said with a conspirational wink. Our therapist pointed out that we had no reason to believe that this would happen again, or that we would have any trouble carrying a pregnancy to term. We were young, healthy, had gotten pregnant with no real effort, etc. etc.

The first year

The first couple of cycles of trying after the miscarriage were full of adorable naivete. I listened to a ton of pregnancy podcasts. I learned about postpartum care, chose a birthing center, stocked up on cheap ovulation & pregnancy tests (these are my favorite). Each cycle, I was convinced that I was pregnant and then crushed to learn that I wasn’t. It was confusing. Six, seven, eight months went by with nothing but increased anxiety to show for our attempts. We chalked it up to the stress we were under for various other reasons. We also observed with a dose of dry humor that the universe was working decidedly against us – we attended a disproportionate number of weddings in 2019, and for 5 months in a row my fertile window happened to coincide with some couple’s wedding night. But as a year crept up on us – the period of trying that would officially earn us an infertility diagnosis – I became extremely ansty.

And alone. It felt like my peers were either effortlessly becoming pregnant or not remotely close to thinking about childbearing. I didn’t tell anyone that we were trying so hard to try, and found it really hard to talk about with my husband. I felt so betrayed by my body. One of my biggest reasons for pushing through eating disorder recovery was to restore my natural cycles so we could have babies. On particularly bad days, I felt like it was all for naught, even though that was far from true.

Becoming officially infertile – and several twists

In Feburary, we started seeing a reproductive endocrinologist. We did a cycle of follicular ultrasound monitoring with them to check for PCOS and to see if I would be a candidate for medicated cycles. We paid hundred of dollars to learn that I did not have PCOS and was ovulating perfectly on my own, which I already knew, but never trust the patient right? Feeling unsatisfied, unheard, and a little turned off by how aggressively they were pushing IVF on us, we looked for an alternative. In March, we found a different provider that believed in treating infertility by finding the root cause, and not by trying to manipulate the natural cycle.

And then COVID hit.

And then I became pregnant – on my own!

And then I had another miscarriage.

Testing and doing crazy things

The second miscarriage qualified me for a whole bunch of new tests – the RPL (recurrent pregnancy loss) panel, as they call it. Everything turned up normal. I had two endometrial biopsies and a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) – both excruciatingly painful. Tubes are clear. Perfectly shaped uterus.

Throughout this whole process I have been relentlessly trying new things. Acupuncture. Arvigo Mayan Massage. Foot baths. Hypnosis. Talk therapy. Vaginal steaming. Functional doctor. Seed cycling. Taking a break from trying. Immaculate diet. Fertility yoga. No running. Reading a ton of books. Reading research articles. And oh, the endless supplements! Meanwhile it feels like the entire world is pregnant. And the ones who are not yet pregnant are going to become pregnant with no trouble at all.

This brings me more or less to where we are today. It’s been nearly 2 years since our first pregnancy, our unrequested invitation to hell. This journey has all but bankrupted me – financially, energetically, emotionally, spiritually, in every way. And before you tell me to relax and be grateful and then surely new life will spontaneously arise from my inner abundance, DON’T SAY IT. PLEASE DON’T SAY IT TO ANYONE. It’s unhelpful because we, the infertile people of the world, are aware more than anyone else of our stress, anguish, anxiety, and hopelessness – and we want more than anyone else to be able to relax, or at least to feel that our stress is manageable. It’s as cruel as telling a blind person, why don’t you just, like, see already? But I’m not trying to preach. Or rather, I’m trying not to, hah.


So why am I talking about my reproductive failure journey on the internet? Well, for one, I’m incredibly lonely. I’m human. Sometimes I need to vent, and this is my blog after all. For two, I am done with feeling shame over this part of my life that has been enormously crippling and is in no way my fault. For three, I believe that story-telling is a really important part of any healing process. Especially story-telling in the midst of the sadness and struggle, when there hasn’t been any sign or confirmation of a happy ending. I always thought that I would wait until we had managed to achieve a successful pregnancy before sharing publicly about our infertility. People don’t know what to do with unfinished chaos. I certainly don’t. One of my recurring wishes has been to be able to time-travel to the moment of the birth of our first child. This limbo feels unbearable, but I know that my work in this season is to come to terms with my story, stay in my own lane, and make space for hard thoughts & feelings without having them consume all my energy.

What’s next?

We still don’t know why we’ve experienced infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss. I’m moving on to more invasive and expensive testing. I am prioritizing my mental health/sanity, because the stress of infertility – in conjunction with the normal and very real stresses of 2020 – has become untenable. We are working extremely actively on nurturing our marriage and strengthening our partnership, which feels like it has had to bear SO MUCH in a short 3.5 years. I’m still in graduate school full-time and working part-time. I really, really hope that some day (soon) I’ll be back here with the story of a miracle. But in the meantime I want to honor the struggle of the in-between-and-really-only-god-knows-if-we’ll-get-there.

Kina Grannis – who has walked this awful road for over 4 years – captures the feeling perfectly:

Grocery shopping is Stressful

Brene Brown just posted this:

Comparative suffering. Empathy rationing. I do that a lot.

Example: Grocery shopping is so stressful right now.

Maybe you can relate (or maybe not) — whenever that thought crosses my mind, another thought immediately pops up and goes, How could I even think that? There’s so much privilege in that statement. I’m able-bodied, financially secure, young, and relatively healthy. What right do I have to be stressed out about meal planning and visiting the grocery store?

As it turns out, nobody is concerned about the nature of my specific stresses and whether they’re valid — other than myself. Surprise surprise.

So let this be my uncomfortable and unfettered attempt at owning how stressful I am finding meals and groceries right now.

I find myself unconsciously holding my breath when I’m outdoors, especially when there are people nearby. As you might imagine, this causes lightheadedness and other weird sensations.

Two people eating three meals a day at home go through a lot of food. It’s hard to come up with twenty meals every two weeks – and meals that will be enjoyed by two people who are often not on the same page about what they want to eat.

When I arrive at the store armed with a grocery list, I invariably find that most of those items are not available. In fact, there isn’t much of anything. But I must not leave empty-handed, because then I’ll have to come back and experience this all over again.

There is so much palpable panic in the air. I have almost crashed into other store patrons multiple times because we find ourselves doing a weird frenzied dance to avoid contact with each other.

I have no hand sanitizer. The store is often out of wipes.

Everybody is talking about COVID-19.

Things are changing on the daily. Limits on eggs. No store returns. Masking tape on the floor. Seating area closed. Change is stressful, even if not on a conscious level.

There you go. My little inner critic is screaming at me right now for whining about something like going grocery shopping. But my point here is that I can own and process my stress while ALSO being appreciative of all the things. I can be stressed about my ‘small’ stuff AND truly mourn and grieve how this epidemic has disproportionately affected more vulnerable folks.

And finally: This is an incredibly challenging time for anyone struggling with disordered eating or any obsessive/compulsive behaviors around food. Especially because they might not feel that their struggles are as valid as other struggles. If you are that person or know that person, please be kind <3. Also, check out this fantastic resource.

Body Respect & Codependency

What is codependency?

I’m a few years late, but I finally started doing some research on codependency and what it actually means. It’s definitely become somewhat of a buzzword, but I think it describes a very real phenomenon. The slightly less ‘pop psychology’ term for codependency is enmeshment, or a lack of differentiation. In simple terms, your sense of self is bound up in someone else. You are an overlapping venn diagram. When the other person experiences a failure or makes a mistake, you feel implicated. When they are hurt, you feel responsible for healing them. Codependency can be quite subtle, but telltale signs are feelings of clinginess, neediness, constant insecurity, and an inability to set boundaries (either positive or negative ones).

But isn’t that the point of being in an intimate relationship??? I know, it took me a while to start believing that codependency could be a negative thing to begin with. Especially because I grew up steeped in biblical language such as “two becoming one” and of course the wonderfully delicate topic of biblical submission (which I will not get into…for now).

If you are curious about codependency and its healthier alternative, interdependency, here’s a great video by a licensed marriage & family therapist.

A void in one’s sense of self

One of my lightbulb moments in understanding what drives codependent behavior is that it stems from a void in one’s sense of self. In my mind, it helps to think of this ‘sense of self’ in three stages:

  1. Knowing myself: my values, interests, goals, and needs
  2. Respecting myself and the values, interests, goals, and needs that I have
  3. Committing to pursue those interests & goals, staying true to my values, and fulfilling my needs

It was dumbfounding and a little embarrassing to realize that even in my mid-twenties, I was still stuck at stage 1. I didn’t know what my hobbies were. I didn’t have goals (I just made them up for job interviews). I absorbed the values of the people around me or perhaps worse, people on the internets.

It seems logical to me that when a person doesn’t know, respect, or commit to their sense of self, they will naturally turn to their relationships – especially intimate relationships – to feel fulfilled, happy, and even just okay. There is no shame in codependent behavior. It is an adaptive behavior that becomes maladaptive. However, I think it’s important to address the root cause of codependency rather than just trying to force non-codependent behaviors. It doesn’t make any sense to tell someone to start saying ‘no’ to what they don’t want and ‘yes’ to what they do if they don’t even know what they want to begin with.

Body image and self-worth

Alright, so there’s a lot of stuff written on the internet and in books and podcasts about codependency and I don’t need to belabor it. What I’ve been getting curious about in my own life, however, is how body image relates to our sense of self, and therefore, our relationships with others.

But first: did you know that 90% of American women are dissatisfied with their bodies? (source). That is heartbreaking.

For better or for worse, our body image – how we perceive our flesh and its shape and texture – is a big part of our sense of self. When I was single, I remember having loud voices in my head that said, “Your body is unloveable. No one will ever love you because no one will ever love your body.” Yikes. Sadly, I don’t think these thoughts are that uncommon. And of course, beginning to dismantle such ugly lies that were etched so deeply in my psyche was a lot more complex than just reading some article or blog post.

However, I think a big turning point for me was to realize that the next step after body hatred is not usually body love. Instead, body image is a spectrum:

body image spectrum
Source: Courage to Nourish

It was encouraging to know that it’s okay (and very normal) to I feel like I will never love or feel confident in my body. BUT, disliking my body’s appearance and respecting my body are not mutually exclusive. You might have to figure out what body respect means to you, but for me it means certain non-negotiables like: I don’t skip meals, I don’t cut out food groups, I am intentional about putting an end to critical body thoughts, I am intentional about putting an end to body checking or comparisons, I take care of my personal hygiene (including teeth), I don’t exercise if it doesn’t feel good, etc.

I might still wish my body were different. But practicing body respect is an enormous step towards liberation, even if it the process feels wobbly or slow.

Body respect & codependency

To put it all together, how we feel about our bodies is a part of our sense of self, and our sense of self affects the way we show up in our intimate relationships.

Demi Lovato opens up about her eating disorder and how it is related to her loneliness on her documentary here. As a side note, I am a HUGE Demi fan, and feel weirdly connected to her (we are the same age~). Anyway, the whole documentary is worth watching, but I am always impressed by how honest she is – both with herself and publicly – about her struggles with food and body image. Recognizing where you are on the body image spectrum can be really difficult. Taking the next step in the direction of health and wholeness can be utterly overwhelming. Is it worth it, though? 100%, I say. If you struggle with this is any way, I hope that you find this to be true for yourself too <3

Summer ’19

The temperature today will hit a mere seventy degrees*, which I am going to celebrate by walking everywhere. This summer has felt endless, and it feels like a relief to be finally entering FALL.

*= 21.111°C for Celsius friends




It’s been an odd summer. We attended five weddings, of which four required significant travel. We settled into a new apartment, only to make plans to move again shortly. We both left and started new jobs. I planted flowers for the first time and they’ve since shriveled up in the heat. I suppose if I had to put a word to it, I would describe summer as a time of limbo. Endings and beginnings. In-betweens.


Also, Paris Baguette opened up two new locations in Philadelphia 😛

Body weirdness

Summer has been slower. It took a while for me not to feel as anxious or panicky about having more free time. Sadly, it feels like I haven’t been able to make the most of this short-lived restfulness, partly due to the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time (and money!) dealing with a string of random health issues — the most vexing and recent of which has been a cracked tooth. No kidding, I have been to four dentists/endodontists this summer. Other fun issues have included a UTI, testing positive for tuberculosis (it was a false positive), knee problems, debilitating jaw pain, etc.

I find it interesting that all these ailments started popping up once I started to sleep more and rest more in general. My inner hypochondriac was freaking out a little all summer. As someone who came of age at the same time as search engines, I have fond memories of googling diseases and feeling utterly convinced that I had all of them.

Seriously, though, bodies are a mystery. On the one hand, they are so prone to disease and decay (and bug bites). But on the other hand, they have such an incredible capacity for healing and renewal.

Sleep quality

I’m truly grateful for what feels like a level-up in my quality of sleep. For the first time in ten years, I am sleeping ‘normally’ — for me, that’s about eight hours of uninterrupted shut-eye. I struggled with insomnia and waking up early (3-4am) for a long time, and to be honest, I can’t pinpoint what exactly has shifted. I suspect that not being in front of a screen for 12-15 hours a day has something to do with it. Having much less day-to-day anxiety is great and not being hungry all the time helps. But I think the final piece of the puzzle for me has been having a consistent bedtime routine. We learn that routine is critical for kids to thrive, but I wonder if adults are that much different.

I don’t know right now and that’s OK

Existential questions stop when you graduate college and/or get married, right? WRONG.

There are so many aspects of life that feel like shifting sand. Questions surrounding vocation, where to live, family, faith, friends, money, identity, etc. abound and can feel exhausting and overwhelming. When those feeling arise, I’m getting in the habit of saying to myself (sometimes out loud), I Don’t Know Right Now And That’s OK. Sounds a bit crazy, but somehow in our Cartesian minds we have an expectation that we ought to have it all figured out by now.

On a lighter note


At the beginning of the summer, I started swapping out some of our cleaning and personal hygiene products for more “environmentally friendly”, “less toxic” ones (in quotes because it’s hard to believe or trust these claims sometimes). My parents gifted me with a Target gift card for my birthday in May, so I decided to splurge invest in new shampoo, conditioner, facewash, deodorant, and detergent (laundry + dish). I have mostly enjoyed the new products, though I’ve run into a few issues here and there. The most interesting outcome is that my menstrual cramps have progressively become more and more manageable over the summer — from debilitating to a slight annoyance. If that sounds odd, one of the main reasons people switch from their regular beauty/personal products is that they contain chemicals that mimic our hormones (even the ‘good’ brands like Dove!). Research is still not conclusive, but the according to the theory, being exposed to these chemicals disrupts our hormonal balance. Some people argue that the vast majority of our exposure to environmental toxins is well beyond our control (e.g. toxins in the air), so using a different shampoo isn’t going to move the needle…but again, this is my highly unscientific personal experience & experiment.

Happy Fall!

Right, that was a monster of a post. Happy fall & go enjoy a pumpkin spice latte if that’s your thing!

The ‘p’ word: Why period health matters

Today I’m writing about something that’s a little bit awkward…but I think that’s exactly why we need to talk more about it. Many of us ladies (and perhaps men) have a bunch of negative beliefs about menstrual periods — that they’re gross, dirty, annoying, shameful, unnecessary, inconvenient, etc. — and that 6th grade puberty class probably didn’t help 🙂 I want to share a little bit of my journey here, and hopefully inspire some curiosity about your (or your partner’s) menstrual and hormonal health, because it matters.

Getting my first period

The first thing I remember about my menstrual journey is that I was incredibly anxious to get my first period. I was an active fourteen-year-old gymnast and was dreadfully conscious of the fact that every girl around me had started their period, except for me (or so it seemed). I read every Judy Blume book I could get my hands on and worried constantly that there was something wrong with me. I thought that maybe I had a rare, undiscovered disease where I bled out of my nose instead of my vagina, since I had a lot of nosebleeds back then (I wish I were making this up, but I’m not). Finally, while struggling over an assignment on war poetry, I started bleeding for the very first time. The relief!!! I was fourteen, which is a little later than average, but not anything to be worried about.

Unpredictable, painful, inconvenient

Of course, once I started my period, I wished I had never gotten it. I worried about whether I was going to bleed during gymnastics competitions. They weren’t regular at all, which made them hard to plan for. And they were so painful. I remember being in agonizing pain before a French final exam one time. My sweet friends bought me some french fries from McDonalds and prayed for me. I think it’s important to note that at this point, irregularities in the menstrual cycle are totally normal, and everybody’s process is going to be a little different — your body is cranking out a lot of hormones, and it takes a while (several years, actually) to get into a predictable rhythm.

Hypothalamic amenorrhea – losing my period over and over again

In my late teens, I started to under-fuel and over-exercise my body in response to some stressors in my life. I had no idea that I was developing an eating disorder and remained in denial about this for several years, but my body immediately sensed what was going on. I stopped getting my period almost instantly. I think ‘hypothalamic amenorrhea‘ (HA) is kind of an obnoxious term, but essentially it means your brain tells your body, “Stop! We don’t have the resources to sustain a pregnancy, so shut off the periods for now.”

My period came back in fits and starts throughout college and into my early twenties, but whenever I resumed the disordered eating and exercise behaviors, my period would stop like clockwork. I did get worried about this — not necessarily because I wanted to get pregnant right away, but because I am a worry-wart, and possibly because I knew instinctively that something else was going on with my health. However, whenever I raised my concerns with doctors and OBGYNs, they told me that it was no big deal. I wish someone had asked me a follow-up question about my eating habits or my lifestyle. I wish someone had told me that not getting your period was dangerous for your bone health, because making progesterone during your cycle is how your body retains its bone density. Instead, they told me that once I was ready to get pregnant, we could talk about some pharmaceutical interventions.

Charting, the pill

I remained dissatisfied with their answers, but also felt a little crazy and overdramatic for making such a big deal out of what didn’t seem too worrisome in the eyes of medical professionals. At this point in time, I was also starting to get interested in a form of birth control known as the Symptothermal Method (STM). At this point, I actually had been prescribed hormonal birth control (the pill) by my OB/GYN — the box of pills had been sitting in a corner of my bedroom for a long time — but for some reason or another couldn’t bring myself to take them. I read the classic resource, Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler, and had started to give charting a go on my own.

Screen Shot 2019-04-11 at 10.43.04 AM

Wait…what’s charting? Charting simply means tracking your temperature and other fertility signs such as cervical mucus and position on a chart; here’s a recent incomplete example of one of mine. By tracking these patterns, you get a sense of when you ovulated: after you ovulate, your body’s temperatures shift higher. In this cycle, my temperature shift occurred between day 17 and 18, so I likely ovulated on day 17. Side note: it’s a myth that every woman ovulates on day 14! It’s simply not true. It’s like saying, every woman is 5’5″ 🤦.

Anyway, I remember feeling kind of lonely and crazy at the time, because no one I knew was doing this stuff. It seemed a little neurotic. And besides, my charting efforts at the time felt fruitless because my periods were coming once every three months or so, and my temperatures had no clearly-defined pattern. My chart was literally all over the place. However, charting is what first tipped me off to the fact that my body clearly wasn’t functioning at its optimal level — in fact, it wasn’t even close. Other than the fact that my cycle lengths were irregular as an adult, there were two other characteristics of my menstrual health that helped me to grasp that something about my lifestyle – particularly my nutrition – needed to change.

Luteal phase length & anovulatory cycles

I don’t want to get overly technical here, because there is such a wealth of science information and research behind all this stuff, but I do want to share some specifics of what I learned in my charting journey. So first off, a couple of definitions:

Luteal phase: This is the phase within your cycle that starts from ovulation and ends when your next period comes. Counting the start of your period as day 1, this means on average that the luteal phase is between day 15 and day 28, lasting a total of 14 days. Having a luteal phase <10 days is known as luteal phase defect, and can indicate low progesterone and predict infertility and miscarriages.

Anovulatory cycle: This is when you have a cycle in which an egg is not released. It is perfectly normal to have this once in a while, if you’ve just started getting periods (menarche), or if you’re approaching menopause, but can be a cause for concern if you’re not ovulating at least most of the time otherwise.

In summary, charting – even through my wacky cycles – helped me to realize that (1) I had a very short luteal phase, lasting 6-9 days and (2) I often had cycles where I didn’t ovulate at all.

Recovery, progress, and the amazing human body!

Whew. This is a long post. But we’re finally getting to the turning point in the story.

Having the tools and the resources to observe and learn about my menstrual health was critical in helping me realize that my poor eating and self-care habits were sabotaging my overall health and making me miserable. I was cold all the time, grumpy, always in pain… and no wonder, since my hormones were out of whack. Learning about how my choices were affecting my fertility also made me realize that I was impairing my dream of carrying a pregnancy to term some day. I got some much-needed help from a team of professionals – a registered dietitian, a specialized doctor, and a specialized therapist. Learning to fuel myself properly and stop compulsive exercise was excruciatingly difficult after so many years, but that’s a whole other story for another time 🙂

Two months or so into treatment for my ED, my period returned. Just as charting my wacky periods helped me to know that something was going wrong, observing my menstrual health restore itself over the next several months and become regular again has been one of the most amazing signs of recovery and progress. I am in awe of the human body (and in particular, of the female reproductive system!) and sad that this is still such a taboo subject in our culture and in many other parts of the world. My luteal phase lasts for 14 days like clockwork, and I can clearly identify ovulation. A little geeky, but honestly, it’s so cool when you learn how to figure this out for your own body.

All the things I didn’t get to talk about

I’m going to stop here… but I want to acknowledge that there are ton of important topics that I didn’t even begin to address, since this is just my own personal story. Some of these topics are:

  • Charting with PCOS;
  • Charting when coming off hormonal birth control;
  • Endometriosis;
  • Using charting as a tool to either avoid or achieve pregnancy;
  • Involving your partner in this process;
  • The importance of progesterone and your period even when you’re not trying to get pregnant;
  • Specifics on how to track fertility signs (body basal temp, cervical mucus & position, etc)

I’m hoping that if you’re interested, you’ll check out the following resources that have been incredibly helpful for me:

Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler (book)

Kindara (free app I use for charting; their website has a lot of great info too!)

The Real Life RD (blog that talks extensively about hypothalamic amenorrhea)

Fertility Friday (podcast)

And as always, if you want to talk, please reach out!