Ever wondered what it’s like to be on a years-long journey for those two little lines on a pregnancy test?

Well, grab a cup of coffee (or tea!) and settle in, because I’m about to share my story.

My name’s Laynie, and this is my chronicle of hope, heartbreak, and everything in between as my husband and I navigate unexplained infertility.

Fair warning: there might be some medical jargon sprinkled throughout (thanks to my healthcare background!), but I promise to keep things as simple as possible.

Let’s dive in, shall we?

Late 2018 to 2019: The “This should be easy” phase

So, let’s rewind to late 2018. That’s when my husband and I officially started our trying-to-conceive journey. Before that? We were your typical careful couple – condoms and withdrawal were our go-to methods because, you know, timing is everything!

I remember feeling so ready when we finally made the decision. I was 32, hubby was 36, and we were like, “Okay, this is it!” Looking back, I was probably a bit too optimistic. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? My cycles showed up like clockwork (though those first couple of days were always rough – we’re talking serious pain, like 7 or 8 out of 10).

But here’s the thing that really gets me: we were doing everything “right.” We ate our veggies, stayed active, and I’m not even kidding – we were those people who didn’t touch soda!

Both of us were at healthy weights, our annual physicals always came back perfect, and I was even working from home with manageable stress levels.

Talk about checking all the boxes, right?

2020-2021: When time stood still (but somehow kept moving)

Enter 2020 – we’d been trying for a year when COVID hit. You remember those early pandemic days?

Everything stopped, and I told my husband, “Hey, maybe this is a blessing in disguise? We can use this time to keep trying!” Plus, he was working from home now – perfect timing, or so we thought.

By the time 2021 rolled around, I knew we needed answers. I made an appointment with a fertility specialist/reproductive endocrinolgoist (that’s what an OB-RE is, by the way), and that’s when things got real. She ran some special tests, and here’s what we found out:

My results weren’t exactly what we hoped for:

• My AMH (that’s a hormone that shows egg supply) was on the low side at 1.5
• I had something called adenomyosis (mild diffused to be specific)

My husband’s results were a mixed bag:

• Great sperm count and swimming ability
• The shapes weren’t perfect, but our doctor wasn’t worried since there were plenty of them

The doctor suggested two next steps:

1. An HSG test (basically an X-ray to check if my fallopian tubes are open and free from blockages)
2. A treatment she called “chemical menopause” to help calm things down in my uterus for three months

Here’s where I hit the brakes – the chemical menopause thing scared me. I’d never even taken birth control pills before, and with my family history of blood clots, I was extra cautious. The doctor understood my concerns and said we could wait until after the HSG to decide.

But then COVID had other plans. Cases started rising in our city just as I was about to schedule the HSG. We decided to wait it out for safety reasons.

You know how that goes, right? A few weeks turned into a few months, and before we knew it, half of 2022 had slipped by.

2022: New doctor, new game plan

By early 2022, I was starting to wave the white flag.

“Maybe this just isn’t in the cards for us,” I told my husband, suggesting we take a more go-with-the-flow approach. Truth is, I was probably just scared of that chemical menopause treatment – I’d read too many Lupron horror stories online (we’ve all been down that late-night Google rabbit hole).

Finally, near the end of 2022, we gathered our courage to go for that HSG test. Of course, life threw us another curveball – our original fertility doctor had moved to another city. But hey, one door closes, another opens! We found a new doctor who was ready to help.

The new doc ran fresh tests, and whew, this is where things got intense:

• My AMH had taken a nosedive from 1.5 to 0.5 in just a year
• The HSG showed my tubes were open (that’s what “patent” means – good news!)
• But instead of celebrating the good news about my tubes, we got blindsided. The doctor said we needed to go straight to IVF because of my low AMH and age (I was 36 by then)

I’ll never forget crying with my husband in the clinic parking lot. We thought we’d get a gentler suggestion, like IUI (that’s artificial insemination) or maybe some ovulation medications. After all:

• My tubes were fine
• My husband’s swimmers were champs
• I was still producing a decent number of follicles (7-10 each cycle)

But here’s where I went into research mode. I started reading about something called reproductive immunology and discovered stories about women getting pregnant after this treatment called LIT (lymphocyte immunotherapy).

When I brought this up with my fertility doctor, she shut it down immediately – she wanted us to focus solely on IVF and wasn’t convinced about immunology treatments.

Maybe I was in denial, but I decided to follow my gut. There was exactly one reproductive immunologist in our city, so I made an appointment. After running more tests, they recommended LIT treatment. I gave it my all – three sessions with both my husband and a donor friend as sources.

But when the numbers didn’t improve enough, I hit a wall. Physically and emotionally drained, I told my husband I needed a break from it all.

2023 to 2024: Down another rabbit hole and finally giving in to IVF

2023 brought a new revelation. While diving into yet another frantic research session (can you tell how I’m obsessed with research now?), I stumbled across something interesting: stories of women just like me, dealing with unexplained infertility, who discovered they had “silent endometriosis.” Talk about a lightbulb moment!

The pieces started falling into place:

• Painful periods run in my family
• I’ve dealt with brutal menstrual pain since my teens
• Even ovulation feels like someone’s stabbing me with a tiny knife

These women shared how they got pregnant naturally after having a specific type of surgery called “excision” (not “ablation”) for endometriosis. The catch? Finding surgeons who do this special technique is like finding a unicorn in Southeast Asia.

But I got lucky! I found an endometriosis specialist in Singapore who actually responded to my email. She laid out a game plan:

1. Get a pelvic MRI in the Philippines
2. Bring the results to Singapore
3. Have a consultation with her

By January 2024, my husband and I were sitting in her Singapore clinic. She did this super-detailed ultrasound scan she called “endometriosis mapping” and reviewed my MRI. The verdict? She found a small endometriosis nodule in my right uterosacral ligament – something our doctors back home had missed completely.

I thought, “Finally! This is it! Someone will actually look inside and figure out what’s going on!” (Can you tell I was getting desperate for answers?)

But nope. Plot twist – she recommended IVF instead of surgery. Her reasoning? The nodule was small, and with my age and low AMH, banking some eggs should be the priority.

So there we were, July 2024, heading to Manila for a mini-IVF at Kato Reprobiotech Center. The results? I wrote about it in two parts:

• My IVF Experience at Kato Repro Biotech Center Philippines Part 1: Initial Consultation
• My IVF experience at Kato Philippines Part 2: Protocol, Results, and Costs

Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but hey, we’re still here, still trying, still hoping.