Taking a Breath in the Chaos

If you’ve been following my journey, you know that IVF can feel like a full-time job with very little control. After two embryo transfers didn’t work during my last try, I decided it was time for a break. Seriously, sometimes the most important thing you can do is just step back. For so long, everything in life revolves around IVF. Vacations are off-limits, work schedules are dictated by appointments, and every meal, every drink, every movement feels scrutinized. I had tried everything, from acupuncture and Chinese herbs to every diet imaginable, and even juicing red beets every single day, which is absolutely disgusting. Igitt! And after all of that, I realized that I needed to take a moment for myself, to enjoy life and not constantly live in a cycle of stress and self-doubt.

During this break, I allowed myself the little joys I had been skipping for months. I drank wine without guilt, Prost!, stayed up late watching TV, and I went all out with a decadent dessert, just because I deserved it. It felt so gut to reclaim even a tiny bit of normal life. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t measuring my happiness by blood test results or lining thickness. I was just… living. And honestly, it reminded me why taking a step back is not quitting. It is survival.

Trying Again, Smarter and Gentler

After my break, I decided to revisit a fertility clinic here in the U.S., mainly because I still had some insurance benefits left. This time, I opted for day three embryos instead of day five. Research shows that day three embryos, while not genetically tested, have a more flexible implantation window, which can actually help with repeated implantation failures. I also made a very conscious decision about medication: instead of aggressive stimulation, I asked for very low doses of Clomid and Menopur. My thought process was simple - wenn du zu viel röstest, brennst du alles an (“if you overcook it, you burn it all”), and women with low AMH sometimes respond better to gentler protocols.

And this time, something wonderful happened. I finally had a small success: four day three embryos which was the best number I had ever gotten in years. Even if they weren’t fully tested, I felt a little spark of hope. I spent the holidays with my family, enjoyed every meal, laughed a lot, and allowed myself to relax, trying to let nature do its part. My doctor kept reminding me that sometimes, die Natur hat ihren eigenen Plan (“nature has its own plan”), and I tried my best to let go of the obsessive control that had been weighing me down.

The Two-Month Lupron Protocol and FET Attempts

Next came the two-month Lupron downregulation, and this part of the journey was challenging in ways I did not expect, especially when it came to navigating insurance and access to medication.

The monthly Lupron injection is not handled like most fertility medications. In many cases, it is not covered under pharmacy benefits. Instead, it is treated more like a specialty medication, similar to certain cancer drugs, and must be processed through medical insurance. That alone makes everything more complicated. Insurance plans often require the prescription to go through a very specific specialty pharmacy, and only large providers like Walgreens or CVS could bill medical.

What made it even more frustrating was that no one seemed to fully understand the process. I spent two weeks constantly calling my insurance company, the pharmacy, and my doctor’s office, often being transferred from one person to another without clear answers. Even supervisors struggled to explain the requirements because it is such a niche and highly specific case.

Eventually, I learned that for the medication to be covered, it had to be delivered directly to my doctor’s office and administered there. On top of that, coverage depended on having an official endometriosis diagnosis submitted as part of the prior authorization. Without that documentation, the medication would not be approved. It was a complicated and exhausting process that added an entirely new layer of stress to an already difficult journey.

Once I finally received the medication, I moved forward with the two months of downregulation. My body slowly adjusted, and I tried to stay calm and not stress, which is easier said than done when your life revolves around hormone levels and lining thickness. After two months, I was ready for a frozen embryo transfer.

January did not go as planned. For some reason, my hormones went rogue, my lining was not where it needed to be, and the cycle was canceled. February was not much better. Despite being on estrogen, I ovulated early, so that cycle was also lost. By March, though, I finally had my lining at 7.4 mm, which is not perfect, but the best it could be. I went ahead with the transfer, and then the dreaded two-week wait began.

Lessons from the Two-Week Wait

Of course, the two-week wait is the hardest part. Those fourteen days are filled with anxiety, obsessive thoughts, and a hundred little “what ifs.” My advice from experience is simple but crucial: don’t test early. Hold onto hope a little longer. After five failed implantations, I realized that staying calm and living life is essential. Bed rest, overthinking, or trying to micromanage every tiny movement does nothing and it only increases stress. Instead, I walked, met friends, ate what I wanted, and focused on things I could control.

This part of the journey also taught me how much IVF can change who you are. Suddenly, a missed phone call from the clinic can ruin your day. Planning a work trip or dinner out becomes impossible because you never know what your body will do. I had to cancel meetings, trips, and events that I had looked forward to for weeks. Sometimes it’s just not fair and it’s okay to acknowledge that. I often reminded myself, alles hat seinen Preis (“everything has its price”), and in this case, the price was patience and flexibility.

The Work-Life Tightrope

IVF doesn’t just challenge your body and emotions, it throws your whole schedule into chaos. Planning anything in advance feels impossible. Meetings, deadlines, business trips... suddenly, every single plan depends on where you are in your cycle, whether you have appointments, and how your hormones are behaving that day. I’ve had to cancel important work events, postpone trips I’d been looking forward to, and shift entire weeks around just to accommodate monitoring, injections, and transfers. It’s exhausting, and honestly, a little unfair.

Flexibility becomes your superpower. You have to constantly pivot, reschedule, and mentally prepare for the unexpected. One moment you’re confident and productive at work, and the next, a phone call from your clinic can throw your entire day off. Learning to accept that uncertainty, while still doing your job and keeping life moving, is one of the hardest lessons. But it also teaches resilience and a very strange kind of patience that spills over into every other part of life.

Finding Balance Amid the Struggle

So how do we survive those nerve-wracking two weeks? Live your life. Don’t obsess over every little symptom. Don’t test early. And above all, take breaks when you need them. Whether it’s a walk outside, a cozy coffee with a friend, or a lazy afternoon bingeing your favorite show, these small moments of joy are just as important as any medication or appointment. IVF can be brutal, exhausting, and unpredictable but you can find balance, even in the chaos. My advice, in short: stay calm, live your life, and don’t forget to laugh along the way. After all, sometimes a little indulgence and a little Berliner (jam-filled doughnut) is the only medicine your heart needs.

With love,

Alexandra 💗