Caitie

I’m Caitie. I’m 33 and recently welcomed our miracle baby, after 5 consecutive losses over two and a half years. Statistics will say that my story is uncommon (I am the 1%), but from personal shared experiences and storytelling with the women in my life, I have come to realize how common my journey is. And in spite of that, how there is still such a lack of understanding and access to care for women like me.

I work in communications for a mental health non-profit organization in Ontario. For over 7 years, I have advocated for better access to mental health care. Through that, I have seen first-hand how lived experience and storytelling are the root of all meaningful and productive change.

My hope is that my story can shed light on the changes that need to happen around fertility care in Canada. I hope that my story will also help others feel less alone.

My journey began in October of 2022, when I found out I was pregnant for the very first time. When I look back on that memory, I can’t even recognize the woman I was then. So blissfully naive of all that was to come. Like many, I figured after a few months of trying I’d be pregnant and a baby would come 9 months later.

With my first pregnancy, I had my first ultrasound at 7.5 weeks and the baby appeared healthy and had a heartbeat. Funny enough, going into that scan, a heartbeat was not even on my radar. Again, I was blissfully naive.

I went back a few short weeks later for another scan due to some spotting I was experiencing. My family doctor assured me that it was normal but to go for the ultrasound to ease my anxiety. The same technician scanned me and this time, it felt like it was taking much longer than the first time. After what felt like an hour, I turned to her, and in some weird out of body experience I mustered the words, ‘there is no heartbeat anymore, is there?’

She grabbed my hand and looked me in the eye and said, ‘no, I am so sorry.’

My husband later told me that he heard whaling as he sat in the waiting room. It didn’t even cross his mind that that sound was coming from his wife, because he said it sounded nothing like me.

The next few days were a blur. I was carrying my baby but it was no longer alive. I had no idea this could even happen. This was not the way miscarriages happen on TV or how anyone talks about them.

I was scheduled for a D & C at Markham hospital 4 days later. I was told not to drink or eat anything the day of the procedure. My husband and I sat in the waiting room with pregnant women and mothers with newborns coming in for lactation consultant appointments. We arrived for a scheduled procedure at 9 a.m. and I was not seen by a doctor until 3 p.m. I waited another 7 hours until finally being wheeled into the OR at 10 p.m. I was hysterical, dehydrated and hungry by this point. I understand why I was not a priority - my baby was already dead. The on-call doctors were busy with living patients and babies. But it made the experience all the more isolating and traumatic.

The next few months were filled with grief and anger like I had never experienced. But, the words that all the nurses and doctors had told me played in my head, ‘many first pregnancies end in loss. Next time will be different.’ We somehow mustered up the courage to try again and by mid March of 2023, we were pregnant again. We were cautiously optimistic but deep down, I was terrified. I had some minor spotting but once again, was reassured by my healthcare professionals that this was normal. I opted to wait until 10 weeks for my first ultrasound because I didn’t want to get false hope at an early scan. At 10 weeks, I scheduled a private ultrasound at one of those boutique places because I thought it would be more comfortable and, this way, I could have my husband and my mom in the room with me. I laid back on the exam table and in front of us was a big screen TV. My seemingly empty uterus was displayed on it. The technician, who couldn’t have been a day over 22, asked me if I was sure of my dates, which I was. We rushed to the local emergency department and it was confirmed that the baby had stopped growing at 6 weeks. My uterus was beginning to feel like Schrodinger’s box – an experiment where a cat is placed in a sealed box with a poisonous substance. Since the box is sealed, there is no way of knowing if the cat is dead or alive until the box is opened…

I had another D & C. By this time we had moved, and luckily had an amazing experience at our small town hospital, in Cobourg, Ontario.

I felt devastated and numb and now I was beginning to worry that there was something seriously wrong with me. I looked up the statistics, which told me that less than 4% of women will have two consecutive losses. I knew deep down, this wasn’t just ‘bad luck,’ even though that seemed to be the answer every healthcare professional was giving us (despite having run zero tests).

It was at this point, I learned of the ‘three loss rule’ in Ontario. A woman is only eligible for a routine blood panel (recurrent miscarriage panel) covered under OHIP after three losses. This seemed unethical.

I opted to go on a waitlist for a fertility clinic in Markham, Ontario at the advice of a family friend. After a three month wait, we saw the doctor in June of 2023. She looked at my husband and me as if we had ten heads and said, (again, without running a single test) “there is nothing wrong with you, try again or try IVF.”

We were confused. On one hand, deep down, we felt something was wrong and didn’t want to try again without getting to the bottom of it. But on the other hand, this was a specialist, we should listen to her… right?

My gut told me something was wrong, but I went against my better judgement and listened to the doctor, something we are conditioned to do from a very young age.

We were pregnant again by Labor Day 2023 (the irony of it being called ‘labor day’ isn’t lost on me). I pleaded with the Fertility Specialist to test my progesterone levels or to put me on progesterone as a precaution but she refused. She said there was little evidence that progesterone supplementation will help, however my own research and the stories of those with lived experience told me otherwise.

We went in for our first ultrasound with the Fertility Clinic at 6.5 weeks. I recall being so nervous at the start of the scan that my legs were shaking uncontrollably. The technician laughed and asked ‘why are you so nervous, you’re pregnant.’ I cried a tear of relief which was quickly followed by real tears when she told me, “nevermind it is an empty gestational sac.” She said it was still early and perhaps my dates were wrong. I knew they weren’t and, this time, I saved myself from false optimism.

A blighted ovum.  The embryo had stopped developing so early that it wasn’t able to be seen on ultrasound. But, once again, my body had no idea and held onto yet another unviable pregnancy. The ultrasound tech confirmed this for me but I still had to wait to see the doctor. The doctor walked in with an ultrasound photo (of someone else’s baby) and a goodie bag and said ‘congratulations!’ This time, it was me looking at her like she had ten heads. She quickly realized her mistake and apologized.

I opted for medication management. It was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life but afterwards, I felt a weird sense of strength. I got through it. I faced my biggest fear, three times over; I could do anything - except carry a baby, apparently.

Now that we had three losses we were eligible for testing under OHIP, which we had done at the Fertility Clinic in December of 2023. A polyp was found in my uterus and my estrogen levels were high and my progesterone levels low. Everything else was status quo, including my husband’s results. The Fertility Specialist once again told us everything was fine. Which to me, was infuriating. Everything was not fine, we had now found tangible evidence of what could be wrong. But she assured us these things would not impact our chances and tried her best to push us toward costly IVF so that we could choose a genetically healthy embryo. Her position was that the losses happened because all of the embryos had been genetically abnormal. This seemed unlikely to my husband and me, given that the results of our genetic testing (karyotypes) came back normal.

While chromosomal abnormalities account for 50 per cent of losses, there are still an array of other causes that make up the other 50 per cent. Something most doctors fail to communicate. Other causes include uterine abnormalities, like the polyp found in my uterus, and low progesterone.

This was a turning point for us. We decided it was time for a second opinion. And that is when we met Dr. Andrew Browning, founder of Ontario Fertility Network. From our very first meeting with Dr. Browning, a sense of peace came over me. I finally felt like I could take off my self-advocacy hat and just be a patient trusting I was in the right hands. He empathetically entertained my absurd ramblings of rare causes of miscarriage, from natural killer cells to a rare autoimmune disorder. All from my Google research, of course.

He looked at my chart and then at me, and bluntly but kindly said ‘in medicine, we tend to treat common problems first. I see here two common causes of loss. Let’s eliminate them and see if that works.’ A plan! For the first time in two years someone had a PLAN! We were ecstatic.

Unfortunately, during this time before we had begun treatment, we suffered two chemical pregnancies back to back in April and May of 2024. But the fact we had a plan moving forward, gave us hope for the future. And truthfully, I was relieved that finally my body had recognized something was wrong, instead of holding onto nonviable pregnancies.

I had the polyp removed in July of 2024 and we began cycle monitoring with medicated cycles at the end of September. I got pregnant the first try and was put on progesterone and blood thinners at 3 days post ovulation.

With every blood draw, my HCG levels kept increasing. So far, so good. I began saying a mantra to myself every day, ‘What is it all works out?’

I had my first ultrasound at 8 weeks and I cried (and so did the tech) when she said there was a heartbeat. I felt incredibly sick through the first few months, puking nearly every day. This was new and hadn’t happened in any of the previous pregnancies. I also had zero spotting, despite examining the toilet paper after every trip to the bathroom. Looking back, a big sign that my hormones were not where they needed to be in my previous pregnancies.

I continued the progesterone until the second trimester. I had to pay $360 every 18 days out of pocket because my workplace insurance company excludes any fertility medications or treatments.

But, at every test and ultrasound, we continued to get good news. We had NIPT testing done (which we paid out of pocket $600 for as well) and found out we are having a boy but most importantly, that he was healthy. Our anatomy scan flew by and before we knew it, we had reached viability and then the third trimester.

It still feels like a dream most days and sometimes, I get scared that I’ll wake up back in the nightmare that is recurrent loss and infertility.

On July 7th 2025, our little miracle, Ben, was born. It took three years to get him here but he came in a huge rush with just a three hour labour.

My story is one of loss and heartbreak but it is also one of great joy. This experience has changed me, my husband, and our relationship. I feel called to do something bigger with what I’ve learned on this journey and I’m still figuring out what that might be. But for now, I hope that my story can highlight the need for change. No person or couple should have to go through three losses before getting access to testing and treatment. No person should have to pay out of pocket for medications they need to keep their baby alive. Especially when we consider the other side of the coin, that contraceptives are covered by almost all insurance companies.

The cost of recurrent loss on the healthcare system is far greater than the cost of simple fixes and routine testing. Not to mention the cost that recurrent loss takes on families.

Infertility affects 1 in 6 Canadians and that number is only growing. That is greater than the odds of experiencing homelessness or an addiction issue. And yet, we see little lobbying from leaders around changes to access in fertility care.

My hope is that in 30 years when my son is having a family, this has changed. That these barriers no longer exist. I hope to be a part of that change.

Sincerely,
Caitie

💚 Sponsored in part by First Response Canada
This 1 in 6 story is proudly supported by First Response Canada, whose commitment to fertility awareness and education helps us amplify real voices and real journeys. Together, we are changing the conversation around fertility in Canada—one story at a time.