Our First FET: Hope, Loss, and What Comes Next

Hi friends,

As many of you know, we have officially completed our first frozen embryo transfer (FET). This was our first FET experience, and leading up to it, I was filled with so many emotions…hope, excitement, anxiety, and stress…but mostly hope.

I know I’ve been quiet and pretty much MIA, and that was intentional. Our transfer worked but I had a chemical pregnancy.

What is a chemical pregnancy? Per the Mayo Clinic, it’s a very early miscarriage that occurs within the first five weeks. It happens when an embryo implants but doesn’t continue to develop, resulting in a positive pregnancy test followed shortly by a negative one. It can come with light bleeding, mild cramping, or sometimes no symptoms at all. Experiencing a chemical pregnancy IVF cycle can be especially emotional, as hope builds quickly and then shifts just as fast.

I wrote the following in real time while I was processing everything. What you’ll read below is raw and unfiltered:

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“Today, all of those feelings have disappeared, and I am left with defeat and devastation.

We just got our blood test results:
Estradiol: 145.67 pg/mL
HCG: 18.45 mIU/mL
Progesterone: 16.92 ng/mL

The good news is that I am pregnant. The bad news is that my HCG is extremely low.

My next step is another blood panel on Thursday. We’re hoping for my HCG to increase by at least 1.6x. If it does, that’s encouraging…but even then, we may or may not be in the clear. I’ll be monitored closely over the next several weeks with more bloodwork and an early ultrasound.

Here are the possibilities right now:

• I am pregnant but experiencing my third chemical pregnancy.
• I am pregnant and experiencing an ectopic pregnancy.
• I am pregnant and this could still be viable, just with late implantation.

These are the lowest HCG betas I’ve had in all four of my pregnancies. I am thankful to be pregnant, but I would be lying if I said I don’t feel hopeless.

I know it’s early…but I also know my body. This time feels different.

Four losses are hard to comprehend. Every time I fill out a form asking how many pregnancies I’ve had versus live births, the number grows…and it makes me feel like a complete failure. As a woman. As a wife.

Women are supposed to be able to do this… and for whatever reason, I can’t.

I feel isolated and alone. I don’t know anyone who has had this many losses without having a child. I’m starting to wonder if this just isn’t in the cards for me.

Yes, I know we have more embryos. Yes, we could try again. But right now, I don’t know what to feel.

I hope my numbers rise…but honestly, I’m not feeling hopeful.

I walked into my appointment knowing I was pregnant, grateful and full of hope. And to leave with these results… it’s just devastating.”

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Now that a few weeks have passed, we’ve had time to meet with our doctor and talk through next steps.

My doctor believes I may have Endometriosis.

According to the Mayo Clinic, endometriosis is a chronic condition where tissue similar to the uterine lining grows outside the uterus, causing inflammation, scar tissue, and sometimes infertility.

The surprising part? Outside of recurrent loss, I wouldn’t say I have obvious symptoms.

But as my doctor pointed out, just because something is my normal doesn’t mean it’s actually normal.

When I was younger, I had extremely heavy, painful periods. I’m talking bleeding through a tampon and pad, needing my parents to bring me new clothes at school…always so embarrassing. My periods used to last 7–10 days and were intense. Since coming off birth control, my cycles are now regular, shorter, and mostly pain-free.

To definitively diagnose endometriosis would require laparoscopic surgery. But our goal right now isn’t just a diagnosis…it’s a healthy baby. Because of that, my doctor is recommending the ReceptivaDx test instead.

This is a specialized biopsy that looks for a marker (BCL6) associated with inflammation and endometriosis. It gives us insight without needing surgery, and it can help guide the protocol for future transfers. We’ll be doing this test during my May cycle.

The good news: we also ran an extensive blood panel, and everything came back normal. We’ve ruled out clotting disorders, major autoimmune conditions, and several other potential causes.

Regardless of the Receptiva results, my next transfer protocol will be adjusted as if endometriosis is present, just to give us the best possible chance.

As for timing…our next transfer is on hold.

Ian’s surgery is officially scheduled for May, so our fertility journey is paused while we focus on his health and recovery. And honestly, I’m looking forward to the break.

The last 14 months have been a lot:

• March 2025 — Egg Retrieval #1
• May 2025 — Egg Retrieval #2 + emergency surgery to save my ovary
• August 2025 — Pregnancy #3 (spontaneous)
• December 2025 — Termination for medical reasons
• February 2026 — Hysteroscopy
• March 2026 — FET
• April 2026 — Pregnancy #4 and chemical loss

I keep getting asked how I’m doing, along with a lot of well-meaning advice.

The truth is, I’m exhausted.

And right now, I don’t have the capacity to educate people on how to talk about infertility in a gentle way. So I’ve pulled back. Maybe it’s not the perfect approach, but it’s what I need.

On top of everything, Brialle’s due date is approaching, and that has been weighing heavily on me. There’s something about knowing where we should be…and realizing we are nowhere closer to bringing home a healthy baby. It’s a grief that doesn’t really have a place to go, but it’s there…and it’s LOUD.

What I do feel, though, is gratitude…for Ian.

I have a husband, partner, and best friend who is completely in this with me. I know not everyone has that, and I don’t take it for granted.

So for now, my focus is shifting.

Ian is known for being the strong one…but this time, it’s my turn to help carry the weight. I’ll be sharing more next week about his upcoming surgery and what that looks like for us.

We don’t always get to choose what we carry. But we do get to choose how we show up…for ourselves, and for each other.

Right now, showing up looks like rest.
It looks like stepping back.
It looks like supporting Ian through surgery.

I’m still here…but I’m adapting to what I can give right now, and that’s less than I normally can.

And for now, that has to be enough.

With love,
Britt

“Everything happens for a reason
But you don’t know what you don’t know
And you’ll never have peace if you don’t let go of tomorrow
‘Cause it ain’t even faith ’til your plan falls apart
But you still choose to follow
If it doesn’t make sense right now
It will when it’s over

There will be joy in the morning
There will be joy in the morning” – Tauren Wells