This is 36

Today I turn 36. In the world of infertility, I’m considered geriatric.

Yikes.

Women have increasingly been making the decision to hold off to have a family. I remember growing up the amount of fear that sex ed classes instilled in you as a female. Watch out. You could get pregnant just after one time. This is where it all started. The stigma and categorization of when is the “right time” in your life to have children. Get married. Make your mark professionally. Have a stable bank account. Buy a home and car to fit in an extra bundle of joy.

If you meet all of the criteria, then you’re “ready” to start a family.

This is the old school mindset with strategically planning out every step in your life. Perhaps infertility wasn’t talked about back then. I’m sure it existed, but it wasn’t widely accepted to have these candid conversations. Women didn’t meet for afternoon tea to discuss their lack of child bearing. If a woman didn’t hit a certain age with a husband, career, and family to show for it, the societal whispers would ripple through all the gossip.

Do you think they have a good marriage? I’m shocked that they haven’t started thinking about having a family. Do you think everything is okay?

Gossip spreads quickly. This is where the ties with former friends start to wind down. You grow up and grow apart as your female friends all have children. You are the only one left to send the congratulations after they announce they are expecting. Oh, the Instagram posts with baby gender reveals. Should we go with a neutral gender name? Let me show you my maternal Lululemon leggings that I’m using during my maternity focused workout. For someone that is dealing with infertility behind the scenes, you don’t know if you want to roll your eyes or crawl into a ball.

Today’s world is different. Today’s woman is different. So why do yesterday’s stigmas still apply? Why is infertility still being treated with old school methodology and approaches?

And my gosh.

Why is it so hard to find reproductive doctors who don’t follow the same template script? Human making should involve human-focused approaches. This means the approach doesn’t always fit the out-of-the box IVF package that they’ve printed on one-pagers. But I digress…

The World Health Organization reports that 1 in 6 people globally are affected by infertility. There’s a huge disparity in treatment with clinics being located in high net-worth locations, leading to what is called “fertility deserts” throughout the United States. Location isn’t the only concern. In 2024, the estimated price tag for one cycle of IVF is between $12,000 - $14,000.

I am 1 in 6.

I was diagnosed with endometriosis after years of being unheard and misdiagnosed. What started out as painful periods that doctors tried to mask with various forms of birth control snowballed into debilitating pain. I became a regular at my PCP’s office. My medical record became filled with notes about my UTI symptoms with no lab results to explain. I eventually received an RX for antibiotics when and if the symptoms ever returned.

After seeing a new nurse practitioner, she mentioned the word endometriosis and gave me a referral to a specialist. After being tossed around from one doctor to the next, I had hope. I finally felt I was going to receive the medical care from someone who understood what I was going through. After going through my first laparoscopic excision surgery, I was shockingly diagnosed with Stage 3 endometriosis.

A couple of years later the pain returned. I was in a different point of my life starting to plan on when to have children. Surgery #2 showed no endometriosis. Rather, I had scar tissue that became the problem child of my existence. I was reassured that a year after this surgery we would be able to conceive. That was 3 years ago.

“Your AMH levels indicate you are perimenopause.”

This was my next yikes moment. According to the National Institute of Health, excisional and ablative surgeries decrease AMH levels by up to 60%. When there’s no other treatment for endometriosis, you have no choice but to go through multiple surgeries. It comes at a cost - the cost of lowering your AMH levels.

After moving to a new state, I sought treatment by a new infertility team. They did all the standard bloodwork. They made sure that my fallopian tubes weren’t blocked. We made the decision to go through 2 rounds of IUI. Both were mentally and physically challenging. It was easier mentally the second go around because I knew what to except. It was harder physically because of how much more responsive my body was to the drugs. Good and bad. It’s a catch 22.

IUI has a low success rate especially after the first two rounds. Feelings of frustration, guilt, and loss as to what to do next. And so, here I am today. Professionally I’ve worked across the board in storytelling. I’ve always been an avid writer. I have a knack for branding. I’ve worked with 30+ startups through Fortune 50 companies. I’ve always yearned for having a purpose, in making change, to try to find a meaning of my story.

I’ve told stories for years, but never shared mine.

Here I am turning 36. Sunny Side Bump was created as a cathartic journal for me to candidly share my thoughts and personal journey. It’s meant for me to share my latest findings and curiosities in the world of infertility. It’s a way for me to start the conversation with emerging startups who are working tirelessly to bring the next best advancements in reproductive health.

There’s no set timeline for posting. There’s no pressure for me to start another business as a side hustle. This is a way to authentically connect with other women struggling to find the sunny side up during their infertility journey. I want to build community. I want to feature conversations with the startups who are working behind the scenes to help increase the odds to conceive even in “geriatric” age. If you are reading this and categorize yourself in one of those buckets, reach out.

Welcome to Sunny Side Bump.

I’m convinced the future of fertility is in the hands of founders.

Follow me through my personal journal, research, and conversations with the movers and shakers in reproductive health as I try to bring purpose and meaning to my obstacles in infertility.

Sunny side bump,

Olivia