Hello, my name is Jennifer, and my husband Ben and I want to share our journey with you about infertility, joy, loss, and perhaps, renewed hope.
Our Son Before Loss and the Shots That Got Us There
TW: Pregnancy Loss
I always thought people fainting from shock or grief was something out of the movies, an exaggeration for dramatic effect, but on July 7th, 2020, I learned in the worst possible way that was not the case. After a beautiful and much wanted pregnancy, an IVF pregnancy that came after years of struggle and heartache and complications, it was revealed at our 20-week ultrasound that something was very wrong with our son.
The visit started with a giddy ultrasound tech suddenly going silent mid-scan. They then ushered me into several empty rooms until finally they took me into one ominously labeled "High Risk Neonatal Consult" where my ultrasound pictures hung across one wall. I could see the news to come on everyone’s faces, and then I saw it for myself. I was alone, COVID protocols leaving my husband to hear the devastating news from our car. The situation was clear. Our son had severe fetal anomalies: his brain, organs, and spine were all affected.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I’ve always been a fighter. My mind raced as fast as my heart. What could we do? There had to be a way through this, a surgery, something to help my perfect boy. But I knew, right away I knew it was beyond hope. My legs buckled; the world narrowed to those scans and then to a pinpoint, all dark and fuzzy edges. The maternal fetal medicine doctor helped me onto a table in her office, clearing all the purses as she helped me lay down. My husband managed to ask all the right questions as I struggled to stay conscious through the ocean of grief threatening to drown me. How could he be so sick when I could feel him nestled safe within me? How could I lose him when I had just begun to distinguish his little movements?
A week later, he was gone.
Our Last Photo of Our Son, Waving </3
We miss him every single day. I hold onto memories of dancing and singing with him in my belly, imagining holding him in my arms, watching as my husband made silly noises through my belly, even though our son could not yet hear him. Those memories are never enough. In my grief group, we talk a lot about this. Some of us have a thimbleful of ashes. Some footprints. Some an imprint of a feeling and others lasting tattoos. But it never feels enough. For me, having little trinkets makes me feel closer to him, reminds me that he was here. And with Ben beside me, time, talking about my loss publicly, and being that person others can reach out to with their own loss, the pain doesn’t feel so all-consuming.
Still, this loss has only been compounded with my inability to get pregnant again, a second infinitesimally rare occurrence. I don’t know what happened. What changed. If it was trauma from the loss or if my pregnancy was just a fluke. I’ve undergone so many painful and expensive tests, spending a small fortune to chase this dream. We are so blessed to have many beautiful embryos, but they don’t seem to stick, and each failure (four so far) has been more painful than the last.
Just a Small Part of the Physical Journey
We’ve thrown everything we have into our journey to become parents, and still, all we have are empty bassinets, a car with too much space, a life on pause. The list of all the things we’ve tried, tests we’ve run, is long, but ultimately, at my age and with these embryos, we don’t have a good reason for the failures. We (and both of our fertility clinics) see only one real path forward: surrogacy.
With a healthy surrogate and our twelve perfect, genetically tested embryos, our odds are very high (80%+) of having our dream come true. Yet even this doesn’t come without its challenges. The financial aspect is immense. We have spent 130,000 dollars on this journey so far (a staggering number, I know). A further $140k looms before us. And then there are all the little losses: never carrying another baby, my only pregnancy being a traumatic one, never feeling them kick, them not knowing my voice from the womb, never giving birth. So many dreams torn away. But I know deep in my heart that when we get to meet and hold our child, how our baby got here won’t matter.
To reach these new dreams, we plan to tap in to every resource we have (our home, our savings, selling more books, applying for grants), but another $140k is currently out of reach. Though the literary agency is doing really well, and has helped us get this far, we need some help. Every fiber of cultural pride is screaming at me to not share “our business”, but pride isn’t going to heal our broken hearts. So here we are. All donations will go toward expenses related to surrogacy (breakdown at the bottom for those interested).
We are so ready to welcome children into our home and a life surrounded by loving family. My husband, Ben, and I have been married for five years, together for eight, and it was practically love at first meeting. Within three weeks, we both knew we never wanted to be separated again.
Our Engagement. Happier Times.
Ben is a Mexican-American former theater kid who comes from a military family, loves games (board and video), has been working in instructional technology for the last ten years, and before that, he worked for the U.S. Navy. He has one of the most generous hearts of anyone I’ve ever met, and that’s one of my favorite things about him. I’m a first-gen, former choir kid who comes from a big Armenian family and runs a literary agency that aims to guide writers and artists in developing the kind of stories that reflect our diverse world (one both of us struggled to find ourselves reflected in as children).
Our home is already filled with Legos to step on, hilarious dogs to snuggle with, and stacks of books to read. We hope to raise empathetic and kind humans that believe their dreams are possible. We have 14 nieces and nephews between us. Our world is full of children, and we hope it will only grow fuller still. While this is likely going to be a long and difficult road, my husband and I are strong enough to walk it. I know it will all be worth it when we hold our healthy baby in our arms.
Nothing will ever replace what we have lost, but because of your help, we can dream of happier days ahead. Our words can never express our gratitude for that. We’re facing a long fight, but at least we don’t have to fight alone.
Whether it is a small donation or a simple boost on social media, anything and everything is greatly appreciated. If you would prefer to donate outside of Go Fund Me, you can send a donation to my Venmo handle, @Jennifer-Baxter-37.
Thank you so much for reading this far!
Iroh and Zuko: Future Child Snuggling Brigade
Surrogacy Costs in CA, Estimated Breakdown:
Surrogate Base Pay $35k-$55k
Contracts and Parentage Proceedings $5k
Separate Attorney for Surrogate $2k
Escrow Set Up $1.5k
Mental Health Screening $1.8k
FDA Screening $3k
Surrogate Screening $3k
Life Insurance for Surrogate $1k
Health Insurance Premiums $10k-14k
OB, Labor and Delivery $10k
Insurance Lien $20k-$25k
Agency Fees $15k-30k
Travel Costs (if local) $400
IVF Transfer and Medication $15k
Embryo Transport $1.6k
Prenatal Care/Allowance $4k
Embryo Storage (1 year) $500
Other Potential Fees are Multiples, C-Section, Multiple Transfers (and repeat of some costs above), Bedrest, Lost Wages, Invasive Procedure, Mock Cycle, and Lost Organ.
Organizer
Jennifer Baxter
Organizer
Murrieta, CA