I felt my husband’s leg tapping underneath the table, and I calmly put my hand on top of it. The doctor on the other side of the screen had just matter-of-factly told us that the likelihood of us having a child “the natural way” was slim to none and immediately recommended IVF.
“I’m going to have a financial counselor call you as early as next week.”
The call was quick. The doctor didn’t extend any empathy or any type of emotion - but I also didn’t know what to expect. The abrupt push for IVF didn’t feel right at the moment - I did know that.
I remember this day like it was yesterday. It was September of 2020, a few days shy of my oldest daughter’s 11th birthday, and we were still knee-deep in COVID, so all non-life-threatening appointments were virtual.
We had been trying for a baby for a year (as most doctors will tell you, that is the length of time to try for a baby before seeking medical attention), and nothing was budging. We moved to Dallas in May of 2020, and one of the first things I did was find Black practitioners to help me along this baby-making journey.
I found a Black female OBGYN who I thought was a sound choice, but after sharing my history of ovarian cyst bursts and learning that I had two small polyps in my uterus, she proceeded to tell me:
“I don’t feel the need to remove them, but if you were to get pregnant and possibly miscarriage, then I would go in to remove them.”
I was stunned. If you know I am actively trying for a baby, and you know there is something inside of me that could potentially prohibit that from happening, why would you fix your lips to say that to me?!
Needless to say, that was the last time I ever saw that doctor, and I immediately went on a search for a new OBGYN. Little did I know that was going to be one of the many times when I had to actively advocate for myself throughout this fertility journey.
Ironically, this OBGYN recommended the fertility specialist who laid the very harsh news on me and my husband that following September. While IVF may have been our only option, I knew in my spirit that this doctor wouldn’t be the right choice to walk along this journey with. We needed someone to deliver facts as well as empathy and compassion.
I didn’t want to feel like just another number. Another line item. After processing what was said and allowing my husband and myself to have a moment, I immediately started looking for a second opinion.
Always.
Always.
Always.
Get a second opinion.
My Marriage
Witnessing my husband’s response was gut-wrenching for me. I am grateful to have a partner who has never been ashamed of expressing his feelings, but I feel as though I saw hope leave his eyes. It was a lot to take in. Not just learning that we would need medical intervention to maybe have a child of our own (because there is no guarantee with IVF), but that he had also spent the past 6 years helping me raise my daughter - a little girl he claimed but shared no genes with.
“However long you need to process. Take your time. But whatever you do, please promise me that you won’t give up. That is all I ask.”
This is what I expressed to him at the moment and continued to express leading up to our actual IVF journey.
He honored that.
Starting IVF
We ended up getting a second opinion, and it affirmed what the initial doctor had told us, but this doctor was more compassionate in her facts and her language. I felt safe in her care, and we began discussing the next steps.
This included contacting my insurance company to see what all was covered on their end and how much we would have to come out of pocket. I can’t even begin to count how many times I called to speak with a rep or put in a request to chat with them through the chat box and save the transcript to ensure I was getting told the same thing from each rep.
I learned that all of our diagnostic testing was covered:
- Sonohysterogram
- Hysteroscopy
- Hysterosalpingogram (HSG)
- Ovarian Reserve Testing
- Semen Analysis
This doctor even removed those small polyps from my uterus that the previous doctor opted not to do.
“This journey costs way too much money to have anything that we can easily remove stand in the way of progress.”
Say less, doctor, say less.
Unfortunately, that is where the grace stopped with insurance. The diagnostic testing was the only thing that was covered. To actually begin IVF, we would have to come up with $20,000 for the cycle, PLUS another $5,000 to get our embryos tested if that is what we wanted.
We did not have that type of money.
But as of January 25, 2021, none of this would matter.
I was rushed to the hospital for what I now know to be my very first IBD flare. After a four-day emergency hospital stay and a colonoscopy, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called ulcerative colitis - the most common type of inflammatory bowel disease that causes inflammation in the colon.
“I understand that you are trying for a baby, but I strongly suggest you prioritize getting into remission before starting your IVF cycle,” my gastroenterologist recommended at the time.
Although my head understood the practicality of it all, this felt like a blow to my heart and spirit. This felt like another speed bump on our journey to have a baby - on top of the infertility speed bump we still hadn’t gotten over.
But I took heed to her words and did just that. I completely changed my diet, added supplements to my daily regimen, joined the gym, and did my best to keep my stress down.
I also took this time to lean into my marriage and my baby girl, who was alive and well and getting ready to start middle school. In hindsight, it felt good to not be fixated on IVF, even if just for a moment.
The road to remission would take me the remainder of 2021 but in true “God be knowing” fashion, I would end up securing a new job this same year with insurance that would cover my entire IVF cycle PLUS meds.
Courtesy
I remember how I felt when the box of injection meds showed up on my doorstep. I anticipated the delivery but also couldn’t believe we were actually getting started. We were officially approved for our IVF cycle in January of 2022, and I was set to begin taking injections that following day.
It was a mixture of five meds that needed to be taken at the exact same time every single day for 12 weeks.
Every.
Single.
Day.
My husband and I watched the tutorials on how to mix the meds and the ideal injection site to prevent lump bruising.
I was excited but equally nervous because what if I was doing all of this to my body and we didn’t get the outcome we desired?
Courtesy
In March 2022, I had my egg retrieval, which turned into seven healthy embryos.
On May 17, 2022, I had a successful embryo transfer.
Courtesy
On days 6 and 8 post-embryo transfer, just a few days away from going back to the clinic to see if I was, in fact, pregnant, I purchased two pregnancy tests, and both of them had positive results.
Courtesy
When we did finally go back to the fertility clinic, my blood test only confirmed what the at-home tests read. We were pregnant!
We’re Expecting
This exciting news didn’t come without its own scares.
Trigger Warning:
When we were seven weeks along, one day before we were scheduled to hear the heartbeat, I experienced what I now know to be a subchorionic hemorrhage (hematoma). A subchorionic hematoma is when blood forms between a baby's amniotic sac and the uterine wall.
I was on a flight back home from a work trip, and as soon as I stood up to deplane, I felt a rush of liquid in my pants. I went to the restroom and believed I was miscarrying.
Our first appointment since our pregnancy was confirmed the next morning, and I was believing the worst, but when we put the ultrasound wand on my belly, we heard the most beautiful sound. Our baby was doing just fine.
Our doctor confirmed the hematoma and ordered pelvic rest as, unfortunately, there is no resolve for subchorionic hemorrhages. It happens in about ⅕ of pregnancies, and while they don’t cause serious health conditions for the mom, they can cause miscarriages. These are even more common in IVF pregnancies.
This same afternoon, after returning home from our appointment, my body would have another episode. I just knew this time we had lost our baby. I found an after-hours facility that provided ultrasounds by appointment, and we went to check on our baby.
Again, our baby was doing just fine, and the heartbeat was strong. As the doctor said before, pelvic rest and be patient.
Prayer Warriors + Intercessors
Outside of a select few family members and close friends, we kept this journey close to the vest.
I didn’t feel as though sharing openly would necessarily jinx our process, but I knew I wouldn’t want those who would pray for us at the drop of a dime and meant us well to be in on the intimate details.
Between these few people and Facebook Infertility Support Groups, this was our saving grace.I knew how important having a community was throughout this process, specifically amongst those walking the same path as us. To this day, I am still involved in these support groups and share insight with those moms at the beginning of their journey.
Love at First Sight
On January 26, 2023, at 7:17 a.m., our miracle child, Demi Rae, was born right on our living room floor.
Now, that wasn’t the initial plan, but I knew we wouldn’t make it to the hospital. From my water breaking to her making it earthside, she was here in a total of 15 minutes, right in her daddy’s arms.
It was perfect.
Courtesy
My original desire for delivery this second time around was to give birth at home, but my anxiety convinced me otherwise. I had a doula and found a midwifery company that walked us through our birth plan, and even though nothing went according to plan, I am grateful for my birth team.
Our doula walked us through best-case and not-so-best-case scenarios. Meaning, that if we didn’t make it to the hospital, we would be prepared to confidently and safely bring her into the world.
As I am on all fours in the living room, my husband has our doula on the phone along with the paramedics to guide us through this tender moment. But to welcome our baby girl into this world with just him and I was a level of intimacy I am so grateful for and wouldn’t have had it any other way.
We went from being told we wouldn’t have our own biological child to constantly redirecting a soon-to-be two-year-old from slapping folks every time she doesn’t get her way. Life does come at you quick.
Demi is such a happy child and brought so much energy into our home, and to see the relationship between my two girls growing every day does my heart well.
Courtesy
I never thought IVF was going to be a part of our story, but now that we are on the other side, I make it a point to share our story and hold space for other couples (especially couples of color) who are fearful of infertility diagnosis and need to see that IVF can be an option for them too. It is not ideal, I get it, but it can be a solution.
In June of 2024, in honor of Infertility Awareness Week, I hosted a panel of other women who have gone through IVF (both successfully and unsuccessfully) to share their experience and give their insight into what their life is like now as well as a Q+A with a well-known infertility doctor for community members to have direct access to a medical professional.
Courtesy
Seeing other Black women in the fertility space normalized the journey for me, and I want to be a resource for others like the women in these support groups have been for me.
Prayers to the couples who are experiencing infertility and feel saddened, angry, and lost. I get it. I truly do. But this does not have to be the end all be all.
Talk to a therapist.
Consult with your insurance company to see what is covered if you are going the IVF route.
Join support groups like Black Women TTC and Black Women and Infertility.
Schedule a consult with a fertility doctor to learn all your options (and get a second opinion).
Get a workup done to learn your health status all around.
Pray.
Stay encouraged.
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RELATED
Let me start this off by saying that of course, to a certain extent, the answer is subjective because it’s mostly opinion-rather-than-fact driven. However, I personally think that sex is hella impactful, which is why I hope that my personal breakdown will at least cause you to want to think about what you do, who you do it with, and why, more than you may have in the past.
Because although, at the end of the day, the physical aspects of making love, having sex, and f-cking are very similar, you’d be amazed by how drastically different they are in other ways…at the very same time.
Making Love
GiphyBack when I wrote my first book, I wasn’t even 30 at the time and still, one of the things that I said in it is, I pretty much can’t stand the term “make love.” Way back then, I stated that sex between two people who truly love each other and are committed for the long haul, when it comes to what they do in the bedroom, it’s so much more about CELEBRATING love than MAKING it. To make means “to produce” or “to bring into existence;” to celebrate means “to commemorate,” “to perform” or “to have or participate in a party, drinking spree, or uninhibited good time.”
The act of sex, standing alone? It can’t make love happen and honestly, believing otherwise is how a lot of people find themselves getting…got.
What do I mean? Tell me how in the world, you meet a guy, talk to him for a few weeks, don’t even know his middle name or where he was born and yet somehow, you choose to call the first time you have sex with him (under those conditions) “making love.” You don’t love him. You don’t know him well enough to love him. He doesn’t love you either (for the same reason). And yet you’re making love? How sway? Oh, but let that sex be bomb and those oxytocin highs might have you tempted to think that’s what’s happening — and that is emotionally dangerous. And yes, I mean, literally.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times before, that one of the reasons why I like that the Bible defines sex between a husband and his wife is by using the word “know” (Genesis 4:1) is because, well, I think that is what celebrating love is all about — we know each other well enough to know that we love each other, we know each other well enough to know that we aren’t going anywhere, and that knowing is what makes us want to celebrate that union by getting as close to one another and bringing as much physical pleasure to each other as we possibly can…as often as absolutely possible.
To me, that is what the peak of physical intimacy is all about — and the people who choose to use the term “make love,” it should be seen through this type of lens. When this type of mental and emotional bond comes together via each other’s bodies, they are amplifying love, enjoying love, embracing love.
Making it, though? Chile, the love has already been made. Sex is just the icing on the cake.
Having Sex
GiphyA few nights ago, I found myself rewatching this movie called Four of Hearts (which you can currently view on yep, you guessed it: Tubi). It’s about two married couples — one that is in an open marriage and another that isn’t although they somehow thought that sharing a night with the other couple would be a good idea (chile). Anyway, as one of the partners found themselves getting low-key sprung, the one they fell for said in one of the scenes, “It wasn’t a connection. It was just sex.” JUST. SEX.
Listen, when you decide to let a man put an entire part of his body inside of you at the risk of potentially getting an STI/STD or pregnant (because no form of birth control is 100 percent except for abstinence), it can never be “just sex” (somebody really needed to hear that too). At the same time, though, I got the character’s point because, if one or both people do not love each other or even deeply care for one another and/or sex is treated as an activity more than an act to establish a worthwhile connection and/or you and the person you are sleeping with have not really discussed what you are expecting from sex besides the act itself — you’re definitely not making/celebrating love.
Not by a long shot. What can make things get a bit complicated, though, is you’re doing the same act that “love makers” do without the same mental and emotional ties…or (sometimes) expectations.
You know, back when I decided to put all of my business out there via the piece “14 Lessons I've Learned From 14 Sex Partners,” now more than ever, I am quite clear that most of those guys fell into the “having sex” category. I wasn’t in the type of relationship with them where “making love” even made sense; however, because I was friends with most of them, we weren’t exactly f-cking (which I will get to in just a moment) either. We had a connection of some sort for the bedroom yet not enough to be together in the other rooms of the house.
We were really attracted and curious, so we decided to act on that. Oftentimes, the sex was good and so we rationalized that “having sex” was enough because if the friendship was, eh, “sound enough”, that we could justify the physical pleasure.
And y’all, that’s kind of what having sex is — it’s the limbo (or purgatory, depending on your situation) between making love and f-cking. The thing about limbo ish is it’s a lot like something being lukewarm: it’s not really one thing or another which means that it can completely blindside you, if you’re not careful (and totally honest with yourself as well as your partner(s)).
So, if you are contemplating having sex, I really — REALLY — recommend that you figure out how you feel, what you want (outside of the act itself) and if you are prepared for what “not quites” can bring. My mother used to say that the consequences of sex don’t change just because the circumstances do — and there is some solid “wow” to that, if you really stop to think about it.
GiphyAnd finally, f-ck. Although most experts on the word (and yes, there are some) agree that its origin is rooted somewhere within the German language (although some say that it might’ve come from Middle English words like fyke or fike which mean “to move about restlessly” or the Norwegian word fukka which means “to copulate”), you might have also heard that it is an acronym that once stood for “Fornication Under Consent of the King”; and there is actually some data that is connected to that as well.
Legend has it that way back in the day, in order to keep reproduction rates where a particular king wanted them to be, he would instruct his residents to have sex with each other — whether they were married or not (hence, the word “fornication” being in the acronym). However, because sex outside of marriage was taken far more seriously at the time, residents had to apply for a permit to participate so that the king could determine if things like their occupation and lineage would prove to be beneficial for the kingdom overall. F-ck: no love; just necessity. And although some believe this to be more myth than fact, what is certain is it was only over time that f-ck was seen as a profane/swear/cuss word — a word that was perceived to be so offensive, in fact, that between the years 1795-1965, it didn’t even appear in dictionaries.
Personally, when I think of this four-letter word, the first thing that actually comes to my mind is animals. Take a dog being in heat, for instance. That’s basically when a female dog is ovulating and wants to have sex the most. It’s not because they are “in love” with another dog; they are simply doing what instinctively comes to them — and since animals do not reason or feel at the same capacity that humans do, although they science says that many of them do experience pleasure when they engage in their version of sexual activity, it’s not nearly as layered or even profound as what we experience.
Let’s keep going. Another reason why f-cking makes me think of animals is due to the doggy style position. Hear me out. Ain’t it wild how, most of us pretty much know that the term comes from how dogs have sex, even though most animals have sex that same way — and think about it: Doggy style doesn’t consist of making eye contact or kissing while having intercourse. It’s “hitting from behind” without much emotional energy or effort at all. Just how animals do it. And so, yeah, f-cking does seem to be more about pure animal — or in our case, mammal — instinct. I don’t need to feel anything for someone, so long as the sexual desire is there. Hmph.
Something else that I find to be interesting about f-cking is how dictionaries choose to define it. Many of them are going to provide you with two definitions: “to have sexual intercourse with” and “to treat unfairly or harshly (usually followed by over)” and that definitely makes me think of another term — casual sex and words that define casual like apathetic, careless and without serious or definite intention. So, the dictionary says that while f-cking is about having sexual intercourse — just like making love and having sex is — it goes a step further and says that it can include being treated unfairly or harshly.
And although that can make you think of assault on the surface, for sure — sometimes being treated unfairly or harshly is simply feeling like someone had sex AT you and not really WITH you; instinct (i.e., getting off) and that’s about it. Yeah, the way this puzzle is coming together, f-cking seems to be more about lust and self and not much else.
Now That You Know the Difference, What to Keep in Mind
Y’all, this is definitely the kind of topic that I could expound on until each and every cow comes home. That said, here’s hoping that I provided enough perspective on each act to close this out by encouraging you to keep the following three things to keep in mind:
1. Before you engage in copulation, be honest with yourself about what you’re ACTUALLY doing — and that your partner agrees with you. You know, they say that our brain is our biggest sex organ and honestly, breaking down the differences between making love, having sex and f-cking helps to prove that fact. I say that because, although the sex act itself is pretty much the same across the board, you and your partner’s mindset can make the experience completely different. That said, if you think that you are making love and they think y’all are just having sex — stuff can get pretty dicey. Bottom line: communicate in the bedroom before attempting to connect outside of it. It’s always worth it when you do.
2. Yes, you can feel one way and do something else. I can just about guess what some of y’all are on: Shellie, we can love our partner and still just want to f-ck. If what you are saying is you can emotionally love someone and physically lust them and want to act sometimes on the lust without really factoring in the love — yes, I agree. Doggy style continues to be a favorite sex position for people, in general, and I’m more than confident that many of the participants polled are in a serious relationship. However, having lust-filled sex with someone who you know loves you is vastly different than doing it with someone who you have no clue what they think about you or you barely know at all. Y’all, please just make sure that you know…what you should know. Sex is too amazing to have a lot of regret after it.
3. Have realistic expectations about sex. Listen, so much of my life consists of writing and talking about sex that I will be the first one to say that it deserves a ton of props for what it is able to do, in a wonderful way, for people mentally, emotionally and physically. Yet again, I’m not a fan of “make love” because something that feels really good doesn’t always mean that it is good for you. Meaning, you’ve got to be real about what sex with someone will do to your mind and spirit — not just what it will do for your body. An author by the name of Gabriel García Márquez once said, “Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love.” For no one, should this be a constant norm. Feel me? I hope you do.
____
One act. Three very different experiences.
It’s kind of wild that sex has the ability to create that — and yet, clearly, it does.
Please just make sure that you know which experience you’re signing up for.
So that you’re having sex (you know, in general) instead of sex having you. Real talk.
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