Building a family through reciprocal IVF – the Baileys’ story

We’re once again coming to the end of Gay Pride Month. In the spirit of visibility and inclusion, we’re honoured to share The Baileys’ story with you. We all know that trying to conceive (TTC) is hard enough, never mind the additional processes and complications that can come with being pregnant. At times, the hurdles feel huge and it can seem as though having a baby with your partner just isn’t written in your stars.

But let the Baileys renew your hope. They chose the IVF reciprocal technique (reciprocal IVF) – a tough journey for them, but one that ignites the hope so many need when doubts weigh them down. You can follow their continued adventures through their website, where you’ll find their blogs, vlogs, TikToks and products.

From ‘test-tube babies’ to reciprocal IVF

Decades ago, children born through IVF were widely referred to as ‘test-tube babies’. The term came from the public, based on the idea that the embryo was fertilised in a test tube. This isn’t the case. IVF (In-Vitro Fertilisation) involves removing an egg from the ovary, fertilising it in a laboratory, and then transferring it back into the uterus as an embryo. Often, more than one embryo is created to increase the chances of success. In the Baileys’ case, they used reciprocal IVF, where one partner donates an egg to the other, who carries the pregnancy.

As with any artificial or natural conception process, there are risks involved, and preparing your body isn’t easy. The Baileys will tell you it’s no walk in the park. Miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies, egg retrieval complications and more can test your resolve. But despite all of that, when things go right, it’s a beautiful experience, and every hurdle is worth it.

It truly is wonderful to be alive in the age of modern science. Today, there are options in every direction to help people experience the joy of parenthood, and IVF is, in every sense, an art.

Baby Bailey (& our reciprocal IVF success story)

It was 2012. Girl meets girl through an online dating site. We were so embarrassed to admit it that we didn’t tell anyone the truth until 2016. The first time we met was at a park near my house. I walked over after finishing my shift at a restaurant in town. Before I left work, I made her a milkshake to bring with me. I wasn’t sure if there was chemistry when I showed up carrying a milkshake, but by our second meeting, I knew Katie was the one. She turned up on my doorstep with flowers, and that’s when it clicked – this was the girl I was going to be with forever. From then on, our weekends were spent taking turns driving an hour back and forth to each other’s houses.

After that first date, we just couldn’t stop seeing each other – everything just fell into place. We were married about a year after meeting. We moved in together and started saving for our future. In 2015, we bought our first house. It was time to start our family.

Katie and I began our reciprocal IVF journey believing we could turn our dreams into reality. I had always wanted children, but Katie didn’t want kids until she met me. She told me she wanted to carry my egg so we could both be a part of the process. We agreed it was the best path for us and started trying to conceive.

We knew we’d need help, and after our first IVF appointment with a fertility specialist, we already had a plan in mind. We wanted to transfer two embryos and hoped for two babies. We also thought transferring two would increase the chances that at least one would ‘take’. We never imagined that decision would cause problems later in our journey.

Our first round of IVF was exhilarating. We were excited about every part of it. The day our shots arrived in the mail felt like Christmas morning, and we couldn’t wait to begin. It’s a long process of medications to create embryos ready for transfer. I mapped out who needed which shot, on which day, and whether it was a morning or evening dose. In the beginning, I did most of the injections to prepare my body for egg retrieval. Meanwhile, we searched online for a sperm donor. That took several days. Choosing someone who will play a genetic role in your child’s life is incredibly hard. We tried to find someone who resembled Katie and shared similar interests (easier said than done).

Egg retrieval day was awful. My body was in so much pain. I was told many women feel moderate discomfort, but I experienced intense cramping. The pain continued after the procedure, and standing, walking, even going to the bathroom hurt. But pain wasn’t what we were focused on. All we cared about was the phone call about whether our eggs had fertilized. Our clinic told us we wouldn’t hear anything until the next morning. But later that day, Katie got a call from the embryologist asking for permission to open our second vial of sperm. The eggs weren’t fertilizing, and he wanted to try again. We both panicked.

What if our eggs didn’t fertilize? What if our dreams were crushed?

The image of us holding a little boy and girl in the hospital vanished from my mind. My heart sank. We were left waiting and wondering until the next morning.

The devastating news

The next morning, we got the phone call. Out of the 13 eggs retrieved, only two had survived.

The embryologist performed a rescue ICSI (Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection) on the remaining eggs, hoping they would fertilize. He informed us of the low survival rate for eggs at this stage.

Immediately after the call, we scoured the internet for any information on embryos surviving this procedure. We found far more sad stories than happy ones. Still, we hoped these two embryos would be our miracle babies, and our dream could still come true.

The following day, we received the news we didn’t want: one of our two remaining eggs didn’t make it.

We clung to hope for that final egg. I continued giving Katie nightly progesterone shots, preparing her body for the embryo. Every night, we went to bed wondering what would happen tomorrow. The excitement had faded, replaced by anxiety.

Sadly, the last egg didn’t survive either. The news was devastating. Day after day, we’d held on to the hope of a healthy baby from this fertility treatment. We felt hollow inside.

We broke down crying together after that final phone call, not knowing what to do except cry. I can’t say how many hours I spent crying, trying to get it out during the day while Katie worked. My body felt weak from grief. I turned to IVF blogs and online resources again, searching for answers. That’s when I came across embryo adoption.

Our treatment pivot (& back again)

Embryo adoption seemed like it could be the right choice for us. I liked that we could get three embryos, and there was a possibility of a refund if the procedure didn’t lead to pregnancy (if our health, age, and history qualified, which it did).

Unfortunately, the cost was significant. We would need to borrow money to proceed. We also considered that Katie’s body was already prepared with progesterone injections, leaving us uncertain about our next steps.

Time was running out, and we needed to make a decision. This could be our answer. We moved forward with embryo adoption, signed the papers, and returned to the clinic for transfer. That morning, we sat in the waiting room, not smiling, staring at other couples and wondering why they could have their dream and we couldn’t. When our names were called, we walked to the exam room, silent, each lost in our thoughts.

Our nurse, the same one from our previous procedure, walked in. She had supported us through our first failed round and shared our devastation. The moment she entered, I burst into tears and she hugged me. Katie was crying too. This was supposed to be a happy day, yet we were both so sad. After comforting us, she encouraged us to try IVF one more time.

We stayed cautiously positive, and scrutinized sperm donors more closely this time. After narrowing it down to three, we researched everything from success rates to  complaints, and donor age. The issues we’d faced with our last donor would not happen again.

We followed the same needle routine, prepping our bodies for egg retrieval. On retrieval day, I was in pain again, but we waited for the phone call the following morning. This time, there was no call that same day.

The next morning, the embryologist delivered fantastic news: 18 eggs were retrieved. Nine went through ICSI immediately, while the other nine were left for regular fertilization. In the end, 11 embryos fertilized, and two of those were grade A – a rare distinction, and the embryologist called them ‘fantastic’.

Embryo transfer day felt like Christmas again. We sat anxiously in the exam room, watching the ultrasound screen as our two little flickers of life were implanted into Katie.

Hitting rock bottom

Just as excitement returned, we faced turmoil.

Our second embryo miscarried. I will never forget that morning – Katie panicking and crying in the bathroom, blood everywhere. I tried to stay strong, cleaning the floor while hoping we hadn’t lost both babies.

We secured an appointment with our clinic that afternoon. The workday dragged on, and the hour-and-a-half drive felt endless. At the clinic, hearing the heartbeat of our remaining baby on ultrasound was a huge relief. A large blood clot sat next to our tiny baby (four times the baby’s size), threatening the pregnancy. We were told the baby might not survive.

Time passed, and eventually, our pregnancy progressed enough to transfer care to an OB-GYN, leaving the fertility clinic. That was exciting, though we tried not to get too hopeful. The risk was still there, but we had reached a significant milestone.

Luckily, our baby grew, and the blood clot stayed put. We spent the entire pregnancy cautious, worried about every detail. We avoided buying anything for the baby, fearing the worst. We didn’t talk about our fears much – it wouldn’t ease them.

As Katie’s pregnancy advanced, small moments of joy emerged. I remember feeling our daughter kick for the first time. I wanted to cry. I couldn’t believe a little baby we created, with the help of science, was inside her. In that moment, all my fears and worries melted away.

Kennedy’s arrival

Finally, Kennedy’s birth day was here. She had remained breech throughout the entire pregnancy, so we scheduled a cesarean section for her estimated due date. It was a date we already had memorized, and felt was meant to be.

We checked into the hospital only to learn that Katie shouldn’t have had orange juice that morning. It was frustrating, yet almost comical, that the day we’d been so anxiously awaiting would now be delayed. Our planned noon C-section was pushed to five o’clock that evening. We had to leave the hospital, go home, and wait around the house.

When we checked back in later, everything seemed to happen so quickly. Before I knew it, it was time to go in. The feeling was impossible to describe, sitting beside Katie, holding her hand, wearing a mask, waiting for a baby to emerge from behind the curtain. Then the doctor announced that the baby was out. At first, I didn’t hear crying, which terrified me. My mind raced with worry, but moments later that sound came. Crying. Relief.

They walked me over to see her, and it was indescribable. Seeing your daughter for the first time, this little girl who had once been an embryo in a dish, is overwhelming. She was amazing. Perfect. I couldn’t believe she was ours and that she was really here. In that instant, every memory of pain, injections, failed rounds, and financial strain disappeared. Kennedy was all that mattered. We had our family, and our dream had finally come true.

Katie and I have so much love to give Kennedy. We were already prone to worrying before she was born, and afterward that only deepened. We’d watch her sleep, terrified she might stop breathing. We worried about her car seat, her weight, everything. We were permanent “worriers.” Even now, I realise that anxiety never fully goes away. Being a parent means you’ll always worry, no matter how old they get. We’ve gotten better over the years. Kennedy is now three!

Fertility treatment for a sibling

When we began our IVF journey again for our next child, Charlotte (now a year old), we knew it would be a different experience. This time, we didn’t expect problems. We were using a frozen embryo, which felt simpler than going through another egg retrieval and fertilisation. The embryo came from the same batch as Kennedy’s. I didn’t need to do any injections this time, and the shots Katie took were just to prepare her body for transfer.

Transfer day came quickly, and we were both excited. Katie had to arrive with a full bladder, and because the clinic was running behind, we spent the wait trying to keep calm. Then, finally, the transfer – a flicker of light on the ultrasound screen. We sat there staring at our embryo photo, already imagining what this little boy or girl might look like one day. We were in love already.

A week later, we did the blood test and waited anxiously for the call. Although we were tempted to cheat with a store-bought pregnancy test, we didn’t want to risk a false result. When the phone finally rang, our nurse gave us the best news – we were pregnant! We immediately went out to buy a pregnancy test, knowing it would be positive. We took photos, smiling from ear to ear, already picturing our soon-to-be family of four.

Anticipating baby loss

But then came another setback. Katie’s second blood test showed that her BETA number hadn’t doubled as expected. The nurse reassured us that it might still be okay, but recommended another test to be sure. The next phone call was devastating. The numbers suggested that Katie would likely miscarry or had an ectopic pregnancy. We were told to watch closely, because if it was ectopic and untreated, it could cause serious harm.

We were terrified and heartbroken. We cried. Then sat in silence. Nothing could ease that hollow feeling. Why was this happening to us again? While Kennedy napped, Katie had to go back to work, and we both moved through the day quietly, trying to hold it together.

Waiting for a miscarriage was unbearable. Each day felt endless, filled with dread. One morning, Katie called to say she had started bleeding. Our nurse told her to prepare for the miscarriage to happen that day. Katie stayed home, waiting for the pain and cramping, but nothing came. She eventually went back to work. We scheduled an ultrasound to find out what was happening and made the long drive to our clinic, bracing for bad news.

After waiting what felt like forever, the truth appeared on the screen – a tiny flicker. A heartbeat. I wanted to cry then and there, but we waited until the doctors left the room. Our baby had been there all along. It was a miracle. The doctor said he’d only seen this happen once before and urged us to stay cautious, but confirmed the baby was growing as expected. This little one was a fighter.

A long nine months

Weeks passed, and we were transferred to our OBGYN. We began thinking about names. This pregnancy felt completely different from Kennedy’s, Katie was sick constantly, and we were convinced it was a boy. We planned a small gender reveal, just the two of us. Katie already knew the result and revealed it after work using pink and blue smoke bombs. I was stunned when I opened my eyes to see pink everywhere!

We both laughed about how strange it felt. We’d been calling her by the boy name we’d picked out the entire time. Soon the girl clothes were unpacked, and Kennedy and Charlotte’s shared room came together. It had been a rough start, but we were so grateful that Charlotte held on.

We plan to have more children in the future, though we know now that nothing is guaranteed. Pregnancy isn’t smooth sailing for us. We told ourselves we’d be more cautious next time, though we said the same thing before Charlotte and forgot it the moment we heard, “You’re pregnant!” It’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement. This journey has taken us from the highest highs to the lowest lows, but we’d do it all again to be where we are today.

Dreams becoming a reality

No matter what journey we take to make our families, we are all amazing parents doing what’s best for our babies.

Undergoing fertility treatment is hard. During our process, I always tried to focus my thoughts on the future. I thought about how, hopefully, someday we would have kids. I wondered what they would look like and sound like, what their personalities would be. I imagined the family pictures we would take, where everyone would look so happy. The stress, heartache, and money spent conceiving them would become a thing of the past.

My eyes would water thinking about these things, but those thoughts kept me going. I just kept telling myself: one day it will happen. I didn’t know how long it would take, but I knew it would happen for us.

We spent thousands of dollars making Kennedy and Charlotte. That’s nothing compared to what some couples have spent to have a baby. Once we had our girls, the money became just a number, nothing more. Charlotte was less ‘expensive’, but still costly when you think about how creating a child is usually free. There are so many options now for becoming a parent. Whatever road you choose, stay positive. Be there for one another.

When we had a baby, it created a tighter bond between the two of us. We are now a strong team, and teamwork has become a key part of our marriage, something that still needed improvement before Kennedy was born. The process of creating Kennedy strengthened any weak areas in our relationship, and Charlotte continued to build on that strength when we faced more heartache at the beginning of her fertility journey.

For everyone out there who has gone through IVF, it truly changes who you are. The journey is unlike any other. I’m so happy we decided to try again, because if we hadn’t, Kennedy and Charlotte wouldn’t be with us.

I still think about the “what ifs” of embryo adoption, because we almost went through with it, and I wonder if we would have three kids right now. I think about what they might have looked like, how they’d be a few months older than Kennedy is now. I think about the little boy or girl we lost, who was supposed to be here with Kennedy. I think about all the tears, worries, and stress of this journey, and all the joy we have now that Charlotte is here.

I don’t know how it feels to be a mother who conceived in the traditional way, without labs or doctors helping to make your baby, but I do know the feeling of seeing a baby you once saw in a dish. That feeling is the most incredible I will ever experience. I’m so grateful for the help of science and for being alive in a time that allows a process like this. Reciprocal IVF made our dreams a reality.

We had such a challenging road to get to where we are today. A few years ago, I started to think the road to having a baby was never-ending. I know some of you reading this are still on that road, and may have been on it far longer than Katie and me. I admire those who keep going despite the emotional stress and financial strain it brings. Stay strong.

We started our Instagram account (follow for all the twists and turns!) to help trying-to-conceive (TTC) and LGBT couples. When we were struggling to make our family, we found hope in Instagram accounts and blogs from others going through fertility treatments. Reading IVF and fertility experiences, and following families on Instagram, gave us strength during our toughest times. The online community we’ve found has been incredibly supportive throughout our journey. It’s amazing to connect with others who feel the same emotions you do during such a hard process.

We continue to teach our children that love makes a family. Love is something every person has in common.