Pregnancy: A Beautiful Nightmare
The best way for me to describe my first pregnancy is simply that it was a beautiful nightmare. I know that contrast sounds jarring but both truths existed at once. Let me explain how.
Behind the Science and Surrender: What Made Transfer #2 Different
One detail I didn’t include in my Fertility + IVF post is that the protocol for my second embryo transfer, which led to the birth of my son, was very different from my first failed transfer. And as anyone who’s walked through fertility treatments knows, the tiniest shifts can make all the difference.
For Transfer #2, the process began a full month before the actual transfer. I was prescribed birth control to help regulate my cycle, followed by a 14 day course of daily Lupron injections in my thigh. On day 15, we introduced Estrace: one pill taken each night for 4 days. By day 19, I added a morning Estrace dose, and then by day 23, my routine included Estrace three times a day. These doses, along with the Lupron, continued until day 28. At that point, I transitioned off Lupron and began intramuscular progesterone in oil injections (PIO) - the longest, most intimidating needles I’ve ever seen. On day 33, we transferred our embryo. Then came the wait—two weeks of holding my breath while trying to stay grounded in hope.
5 days post-transfer, I couldn’t wait any longer. I tested early and saw the faintest line, so faint I had to squint, then squint again. But it was there. By day 8 post-transfer, the line deepened. I felt the first flutter of peace. When my nurse called me on day 14 post-transfer, I said, "You're about to give me good news." She laughed. She confirmed. And then she reminded me: we were only at the beginning.
On day 16 post-transfer, my final blood test confirmed what my heart had already begun to believe - my HCG had doubled! I was officially four weeks pregnant! Up to this point, I had also been doing weekly acupuncture, hoping to support my body in every way I could. And while we still had miles ahead, that moment marked the shift: from uncertain hope to an unfolding promise. Both the Estrace and PIO continued three times a day until I reached 12 weeks of pregnancy.
The Shots I Saw Coming
Health conditions before pregnancy don’t always stay in the background, they can impact the journey. And in my case, I knew that walking into pregnancy would mean walking into complexity.
A few days before my 27th birthday, I was diagnosed with May-Thurner Syndrome, a condition where the right iliac artery compresses the left iliac vein leading to an increased risk of blood clots. A stent graft was placed following my diagnosis, but I understood that if I ever carried a pregnancy, those veins would be under added pressure. That meant my risk of clotting, already elevated by pregnancy itself, would be even higher. So I prepared myself. Not just for the shots tied to fertility—but for the ones that would follow when pregnancy was confirmed.
The moment it was, I was placed on blood thinners. I knew this would continue until six weeks postpartum, and mentally, I accepted the assignment. What I didn’t anticipate was how physically taxing and emotionally draining it would be over time. The first trimester was manageable. But as my belly grew, and each injection left behind bruises, tenderness, and the quiet ache of routine, I found myself digging deeper for strength. Between April 2023 and January 2024, I took approximately 275 blood thinning injections. I still ask myself how I did it—but I did.
If you’re walking this path, know this: I see you. I’m rooting for you!
Because of the blood thinners, my pregnancy was classified as high-risk. Every appointment was with an OB, rather than a midwife. And delivery was recommended by 38 weeks. Was it manageable? Yes. But it added layers of planning and oversight that made everything feel more clinical. Still, every layer was necessary. Every needle, every protocol, every early decision—all of it paved the way for the little life that now fills my home with joy.
First Trimester
If I had to describe my first trimester in one word, it would be: layered. Medically layered. Emotionally layered. Physically layered.
It wasn’t just pregnancy symptoms I was navigating, it was a cocktail of side effects from the medications I was still taking to sustain the pregnancy. The distinction matters. Because while pregnancy alone is often enough to humble the strongest among us, IVF pregnancies come with added complexity.
Medication Side effects - Hot flashes, headaches, bruising from blood thinners, PIO injection site soreness
Most of the side effects were uncomfortable but short-lived. But PIO shots? Those left a mark. Quite literally until I stopped them at 12 weeks pregnant.
Pregnancy Symptoms - Heightened sense of smell, nausea & vomiting, fatigue, bleeding
At 6 weeks pregnant, I began spotting which brought on a wave of anxiety and fear. Any form of bleeding during pregnancy is unsettling. A scan confirmed the presence of a subchorionic hematoma—a condition where blood pools between the uterus and the outer layer of the pregnancy sac. My doctors reassured me it was common with IVF pregnancies and not concerning unless the bleeding became heavy or constant. Not gushing through a pad in under an hour, they said. Okay. But less than 2 weeks later, at 8 weeks pregnant, I got up from a nap and was met with exactly that. I had no thoughts as we made our way to the ER. Thankfully, our baby was fine. It was the hematoma bleeding out. And eventually, it stopped, though I don’t remember when. Trauma rarely logs timelines.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the dry heaving triggered by brushing my teeth. The moment the toothbrush touched my mouth, my stomach revolted. Eventually, I gave up entirely. I resorted to rinsing my mouth with water and brushing my tongue with my teeth. Food, which I love so much, betrayed me. Whatever went down, almost certainly came back up. I was grateful to be working from home because the toilet bowl and I became very well acquainted.
What helped - Ginger everything, eating before the hunger hit (nearly impossible), lunch naps, starting my baby registry
By 9 weeks pregnant, I’d graduated from my IVF clinic. At my first appointment with the high-risk OB, we reviewed expectations, tests, and monitoring protocols. As a Black woman, I was reminded of the higher risk for cardiovascular conditions like preeclampsia. As such, I started low-dose aspirin and was asked to log my blood pressure weekly.
Week 10 brought the Non-Invasive Prenatal Test (NIPT) to screen for chromosomal abnormalities and reveal the baby's gender. We’d already tested our embryo pre-transfer, so the results confirmed what we knew: healthy and growing.
Weeks 11 through 13 blurred together in a haze of sameness and slow relief. Around week 12, I stopped the progesterone shots. And somehow - I made it.
Second Trimester
New Pregnancy Symptoms - sciatica, food aversion
More of the same as the first trimester in terms of pregnancy symptoms, but no more bleeding. I began limping from sudden, unexplained sharp pain that made walking difficult. I thought it might be residual pain from the PIO shots, but it turned out to be sciatica. The pain disappeared as mysteriously as it came, but not before I endured a frustrating visit with a dismissive midwife and weeks of discomfort. Additionally, food became more of a challenge. I desperately wanted to enjoy our summer trip to Europe, but my senses had other plans. Everything smelled off. Everything tasted worse. But once in a while I stumbled on a meal that hit the spot. In Rome, it was a margherita pizza and in Paris, burger and fries. Coca-Cola was the one thing that consistently eased the nausea and reset my taste buds.
Third Trimester
New Pregnancy Symptoms - Gestational diabetes, Chelostasis of Pregnancy
From the beginning, my pregnancy was deemed high risk due to daily blood thinners. I had prepared myself for that layer of complexity. What I hadn’t prepared for were the new hurdles the third trimester decided to throw my way - ones I hadn’t even considered.
The first came after failing both my 1-hour and 3-hour glucose test and just like that I was enrolled into my hospital's gestational diabetes monitoring program. Four daily blood sugar checks: fasting, and one hour after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Followed with weekly reports sent to the nurse practitioner for review and monitoring. I cannot begin to explain how annoying and tasking this new routine was. I hated the pricks more than the sting of the blood thinner injections. I made the decision to give up on the rigorous monitoring around 34 weeks and instead leaned into being mindful of what I ate and relied on my weekly ultrasounds and semiweekly non-stress tests for reassurance. At this point, preserving my peace was more important than tracking every data point.
As I was adjusting to the blood sugar checks, my body threw another surprise my way around week 29-30. It started one evening as I was chatting with my husband. Out of nowhere, I became intensely itchy, so much so that I stripped down, jumped into the shower, and took Benadryl. The itching eased but never fully went away. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced and I have seasonal allergies year round. I turned to Dr. Google (as one does) and immediately suspected something more serious. I emailed my care team and requested testing. A week later, my suspicion was confirmed: cholestasis of pregnancy—a liver condition that affects bile flow and increases the risk of stillbirth in the third trimester. I was placed on medication (ursodiol) right away, and to avoid stories that touch, my delivery was scheduled at 37 weeks.
Lastly, I caught covid, for the first time ever, at my own baby shower. On the bright side, my son would be born with antibodies protecting him. But at that moment, it was just another health concern to navigate and yet another prayer point. Thankfully,my symptoms (cough mostly) resolved without any complications.
The Final Stretch: Gratitude in the Midst of Monitoring
The last 4 weeks of my pregnancy were a whirlwind of monitoring—weekly ultrasounds, semiweekly non-stress tests, and a daily countdown to delivery. Each visit offered reassurance and a reminder that my care team was informed, responsive, and ready to act if needed. I was also deeply thankful for the ability to use my pre-birth benefits at work, giving me space to prioritize my health without guilt. With every scan and every test, I held onto a mix of why me and gratitude for coverage, for care, and for strength.
Final Reflections
My first pregnancy was a full-time job in crisis management. I am grateful that my body hung in there through all the challenges that came along. I am grateful for my husband, family and friends who prayed, encouraged, and carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. It truly takes a village and mine showed up.
MMy story isn’t meant to scare, to earn sympathy or praise. It is meant to inform. Because while pregnancy is a beautiful and sacred journey, it can also get scary and life threatening very quickly. In the U.S., Black women are three times more likely to die from pregnancy or child birth than white women. That statistic isn’t just numbers—it’s our lives, our sisters, our stories. We deserve to be here, holding life not losing it. And yet, we obsess over asking women when they’ll have babies while avoiding real conversations about the risks. We need to talk about this. Because lives depend on it. And because every Mom deserves both the joy and the truth of what it means to bring life into this world.
So, now what? What can we actually do?
Speak honestly about pregnancy - the beauty and the brutal. We owe each other truth, not just celebration.
Prioritize gynecological care. Every woman should have a provider they trust and see at least once a year. Preventive care is radical self-love.
Reflect on your why. Ask yourself: Is motherhood something I truly desire, or something I’ve been taught to chase? Your health, your timeline, your truth—they matter.
TLDR
Babies are cute but baking them? That’s a whole saga. Behind the bump are bruises, bloodwork, and battles no one sees. Especially for Black women, the path to motherhood is lined with beauty, risks and resilience. It’s time we tell the full story, not just the nursery reveal.
Disclaimer: None of the information disclosed above is medical advice. This is based on my experience and my learnings. Please consult with your Doctor before you make any decisions about your fertility and your health.
