Our Journey Through Infertility: Hope, Loss, and New Beginnings
Infertility is not something you ever expect to face.
Our Journey Through Infertility: Hope, Loss, and New Beginnings
When Corey and I decided to start trying for a family in May 2021, we were filled with excitement, hope, and dreams of what our future would look like. I pictured baby announcements, nursery designs, and all the joy that comes with bringing a child into the world. What we didn’t anticipate was the long, winding road that would challenge our faith, resilience, and partnership.
We got pregnant quickly that summer, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. But by June, we were navigating the heartbreak of a chemical pregnancy. It’s hard to describe what it feels like to lose a pregnancy so early. Some people might think it’s easier because it happens quickly, but the loss is real, and the pain is heavy. We grieved for the baby we’d imagined and tried to comfort each other while still processing it all ourselves.
Then came September 2021. In the middle of picking ourselves up and trying again, I got some unexpected news: I had thyroid cancer. Cancer is a word you never want to hear, and suddenly, our plans for starting a family took a backseat to something even more pressing—my health.
I had surgery in December 2021 to completely remove my thyroid. What followed was an exhausting process of getting my body back on track. I spent the next 11 months trying to regulate my new thyroid medication, learning to live without the organ that plays such a huge role in everything from your metabolism to your energy levels. It was a tough year, but Corey was my rock through it all, cheering me on during every setback and celebrating every small victory.
By late 2022, we were ready to try again. But infertility is cruelly unpredictable, and New Year’s Eve 2023 brought another loss. It was our second pregnancy, and with it, our second heartbreak. I remember hearing fireworks go off as I lay in bed crying after we got home from the hospital, feeling like we were stuck in this cycle of hope and despair.
It was in February 2024 that we decided to explore fertility clinics. The losses had taken a toll on us emotionally, and after nearly three years of trying with no success, we knew we needed answers—and maybe some help. It’s such a vulnerable decision to make, to walk into a clinic and say, “We can’t do this on our own.” But I’m so glad we did.
Our search led us to Barbados Fertility Centre. From the moment we found them, something about their approach felt right. They came highly recommended, and their process seemed so thoughtful and personalized. By July 2024, we had everything scheduled. It was a surreal mix of emotions—hope, fear, and excitement—but most of all, we felt ready to take this step.
Fast forward to now: we’re here in Barbados. The past few months have been a whirlwind of preparation, and it’s strange to think that this moment is finally here. Tomorrow, November 20th, is our egg retrieval day. It feels like the culmination of everything we’ve been through—the losses, the tears, the waiting, the appointments, the injections, and the sleepless nights.
Throughout this journey, I’ve learned so much about myself and Corey. Infertility can test even the strongest relationships, but it’s also shown me how unwavering Corey’s support is. He has been my steady hand through every hormone-induced meltdown, every bad-news phone call, and every moment of doubt.
If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize, it’s that infertility isn’t just a medical condition. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, a series of hurdles you never thought you’d face, and a constant balancing act of holding onto hope while trying to protect yourself from disappointment. But it’s also taught me patience, resilience, and the power of vulnerability.
Sharing our story is not easy. Infertility can feel isolating, and there’s so much pressure to stay quiet about it. But I know that so many others are walking this road too, and if our experience can bring even a sliver of comfort to someone else, it’s worth it.
As I sit here in our room in Barbados, writing this the night before our egg retrieval, I feel a mix of emotions. There’s excitement, of course—the hope that tomorrow will bring us closer to the family we’ve dreamed of. There’s also fear. What if it doesn’t work? What if we’re back to square one?
But more than anything, I feel gratitude. Gratitude for the chance to be here, for the incredible medical team guiding us through this process, and for the love and support that’s surrounded us every step of the way.
To those of you who’ve reached out with prayers, encouragement, and kind words: thank you. Your support means the world to us, and it’s helped carry us through some of our darkest days.
And to anyone reading this who’s struggling with infertility: you’re not alone. It’s okay to grieve, to feel angry, to take breaks, and to ask for help. This journey isn’t easy, but it doesn’t have to be faced in silence.
As we head into tomorrow, I’m holding onto hope. Hope for good news, hope for healing, and hope for a future where Corey and I can finally hold the baby we’ve dreamed of for so long.
Whatever happens, I know we’ll get through it together.
Here’s to new beginnings and the strength to keep believing, even when the road gets rough.
-Elizabeth Lawson
Medical Disclaimer: The information provided in this blog is intended for general informational purposes only and should not be considered as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your healthcare provider or qualified medical professional with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read in this blog.