We tried everything.

It has taken me a long time to write this post. Part because it has taken us a long time to make this decision and part because it has taken me a long time to be able to say the words out loud.

Our IVF journey has come to an end. While it breaks my heart to have to make this decision, I know it is what's right.

We started trying for Baby #2 when Olivia turned one. She will be 6 1/2 in a few weeks. The amount of heartache, pain and torment that Don and I have faced is immeasurable...and I've had enough.

We have witnessed the horror of stopping two babies heartbeats. We have experienced an abnormal ectopic and had to make the decision to terminate yet another pregnancy. We have experienced multiple miscarriages. And we have lost count of the number of embryos we have lost in the process of it all. We have suffered a great amount of loss and I think we have both hit our limit.

This last miscarriage was unexpected. It knocked the wind out of us. The possibility of experiencing another loss is very much our reality...and I'm not sure it is something we can get through, yet again.

There is not a single day that I don't wake up and wonder and think and hope and pray. This process, it has consumed me since it all began before having Olivia. It's changed me and I always said I would never let that happen.

I'm broken. There is no other way to describe what this process has done to me.

I still lay in the shower and cry just about every day. I mourn the loss that we've experienced during every quiet moment that I have.

I'm bitter. Toward every person that gets pregnant so easily- though I swear, I wouldn't want it any other way. No one should have to go through what we have been through.

I'm sad. That I will never have another sleeping baby of my own laying on my chest. That I will never experience another kick in my belly or hear the sound of a healthy heartbeat.

I'm angry. That my child will never get to experience the gift of having a sibling.

I'm panicked that we only get one life to live and the time to have children is a very small window. The thought of not experiencing another gift of life literally brings me to my knees.

We haven't told Olivia that it will never happen for her. I don't see a point- she's too young to understand. When she asks what she should pray about- I no longer encourage the conversation of praying for a sibling. Instead we pray for good health and happiness.

Olivia is smart. I think she has picked up on the fact that it's never going to happen. When she asks, she can see the tears in my eyes and she always sweetly changes the subject.

My little sister is pregnant with #2 of her own. I didn't purposely keep it from Olivia, but I never brought it up to her because to be honest, I never wanted to have to explain why them and not us. After facetiming with my sister and nephew Olivia asked me why my sisters belly was bigger than usual. I told her it was because she was pregnant. Olivia stared at me and I could tell the wheels were turning in that little head of hers. I danced around the subject which didn't work because a couple minutes later Olivia told me she was sad. When I asked her why she said-

"Sadie and Payton have each other. Grace and PJ have each other. And now Jackson will have a baby of his own. I'm the only one without a brother or sister, Mom." 

"I'm so sorry." What else could I say?

We talked about how sometimes good people don't always get what they want or what they ask for. Sometimes God has a different plan for some people and that that's ok. I didn't have to tell her that she will never have a sibling- I think she figured it out on her own and that hurts my heart. Olivia went to bed that night telling me she considered Jackson as a brother and that even though he's not, she will feel better if we can share him. I agreed. Cousins can be just as good as siblings- something I've had to tell myself over and over and over again.

In January, when we miscarried, my brother wrote me a letter. He told me that Olivia will never feel the void of not having a brother or a sister because she has too many cousins who love her just as much. He wrote, "Olivia will always be so lucky, because she has two of the best parents that I've ever met and she will never have to share their love with another sibling. And now you can give her all of your love and really start living life again."

It's taken us quite some time to come to this decision. I've seen the pain in my husbands face. The pain of having to keep it together when he had every right to let it all fall apart. I've looked in the mirror many of nights and wondered how I'm still standing. And you know, it's not easy to live that way. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want to beat myself up and I don't want to be bitter.

We are great parents. Damn good parents. I can't for the life of me figure out why God would let us go through what we've been through. But what I do know is that he gave us the best of the best. There is no other kid out there like our Olivia Hope...and for that, we are blessed. It is because of her fight and strength that she is here today. She is our miracle and we thank God every single day for this child.

Baby #2 wasn't in the cards for us. It wasn't our dream to be had. One day when Olivia is old enough, she will learn that she was a quadruplet. One day, she will learn that her Mom and Dad did EVERYTHING they could to try to give her a sibling. We walk away always wondering if it could have happened for us, but with no regret...because we tried everything.

I know I don't have to be...but I'm very sorry to all for the outcome. To every person who offered so much love and support. To my daughter who deserves the world. To my husband who has proved time and time again that he is one hell of a dad. My body has failed us and so many that deep down, I'm just very sorry.

Thank you for shedding tears with us. Thank you for making us laugh through the pain. Thank you for the hugs, the phone calls, the messages, cards, flowers and meals. Thank you for the prayers. Thank you for the support.

To our families, we owe you so much. We have the best family and we are forever lucky for all of you carrying us through.

To my siblings...you three are the reason why I so much wanted Olivia to experience what I've been blessed to have.. I had hoped so much that she would experience what it was like to grow up with the best, most loyal friends life could offer. During the toughest days, you've been our backbone. As much as I wanted to do this all in private- I couldn't have done it without the three of you. Carrie and Taylor, thank you for always showing up when I told you not to. Peter, thank you for crawling in bed with me more than once to let me cry on your shoulder. There's no words, just thank you.

To Don, there will be a special post for you. To not wouldn't be right. Just know that it is because of you that I am still standing.

Dr. Binor doesn't know of our decision. I'm in the process of writing him a letter. If I walked in his office to inform him of the decision, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to follow through. In fact, I'm probably still so weak- that I would get caught up in seeing all of his newspaper clippings and pictures of his miracle babies that I would probably sign us up for another round. So I'll send the letter and after the holidays I will walk in to give him the hug I promised I would give him if we were done.

I always wanted to do one of those pictures showing off my IVF baby inside of a heart showing the struggle and fight. I was proud of how hard we worked and the strength we had during the entire process. I thought the picture would look a little different. Instead, when you look at this picture, I hope you see the blood, sweat, tears and heartache that my family went through. I hope this picture makes you thank your lucky stars that you don't have to go through what we've been through. I hope this picture makes you think twice before asking someone when they are going to have a baby. I hope this picture makes you appreciate your own little miracle and to never take for granted the gift of being a parent.

Though our outcome is a little different, I can now appreciate the road we've been on and I can tell you, I will never take for granted this thing called life.

We're family.

For the past few months I've taken a step away from blogging, injections, pills and countless doctors appointments that go along with my infertility journey.

This last miscarriage rocked my boat and I needed time to heal and think about what it is our future looks like. 

So many have reached out asking how we have been doing and believe me when I tell you that the support has meant everything to us. I've heard from friends that I went to school with a million years ago and coworkers I worked with a lifetime ago. It's been nice catching up with past friends and bonding with new....

As much as I would like to come on here and tell you that we have it all figured out- I'm afraid I'll disappoint you...because we don't. We're close, but still undecided. 

A few weeks ago I had an appointment to see Dr. Binor. I needed to clear my head and there is no better person to do that with than Dr. Binor. Don sat this one out...I needed one on one time with the man that has lived and breathed this journey along with us for the past several years. 

I briefly spoke to Dr. Binor a couple days after the D&C. He called to see how I was doing, but I could barely get a word out. I cried so hard while he said sorry multiple times. There was nothing for him to say sorry for, but he knew and felt the pain that we were going through once again. Meeting with him a few weeks ago was the first time since that phone call. 

When he walked in we both smiled at one another said how nice it was to each other. He starts every "consult" the same way. He briefly recaps every IVF round, the result and test results in my chart. I tend to zone out because the brief is depressing and I've lived and experienced every attempt and loss that it's forever etched in my heart. Right away, I tear up. The subject is so sensitive to me that it's hard to get through 5 minutes tear free. While he's reading my chart he reaches over and hands me a Kleenex without skipping a beat. Once he finishes his brief he looks up at me and takes a deep breath. 

"My most tricky patient. I've been wondering when I would see you again."

I smile while wiping tears from my face. 

"How have you been?"

"Ok. Better than I was a few months ago."

"Let's talk about it. Where are you at in that head of yours?" 

"I'm exhausted. I'm tired of the drama of it all. I wake up and I think about what it is I'm suppose to do and I go to bed wondering, what it is I'm suppose to do."

"That's fair. Have you figured it out yet?"

"Nope. That's why I'm here. What do I do? Is having a baby a possibility for me? If I was your daughter what would you tell me?" 

Dr. Binor promised me that he wouldn't take me on as a patient if he thought I couldn't have a baby. 

"I don't know what it is. I do believe that we are up against something that we don't know what we're up against- but the problem is no longer getting pregnant- it's staying pregnant. I've studied your chart- I've studied your results- there's nothing on paper that says you can't have a baby- so yes, I believe you can have a baby and I believe I can get you there, but I don't know what kind of journey you'll have to go on to get there because well, at this point- no one knows that. Now tell me, what is it that you want..." 

I pause and take a moment while trying to separate what I want verse what I can handle. 

"5 years ago I sat in your office and told you I wanted another baby. I've lost track at how many times we've tried and how many losses we've been dealt. If I was being selfish I would tell you that I'm done.  I've taken all that I can personally handle...but I have a 6 year old at home who asks me for a sibling every day for the past few years and it's because of her that I keep trying- because more than anything I want to give her that gift and I fear the day that I have to tell her that it's not going to happen."

As soon as I make eye contact with him I notice tears in his eyes as he reaches for another Kleenex- this time for himself. I lose it. Not once have I ever seen him lose his cool. We both sit there in silence. 

"Do you remember when Don and I first sat here and you told us that IVF would either make us or break us?"

"Yes."

"It's breaking me."

"I know."

Dr. Binor asked me if I had my mind made up and I said no. I told him that some days I call it while other days I whisper to myself, "just maybe". He asked me how I would feel if he told me that having another baby wasn't a possibility. 

"A weight would be lifted from my shoulders because at the end of the day I wouldn't be the one to make the decision. I could have the conversation with Olivia and start to find closure." 

"What would you tell her?"

"That we tried everything and that sometimes you don't get everything you want in life."

I told Dr. Binor that I'm not the most religious person, but I have a relationship with God and sometimes I wonder if not having another baby is a sign to walk away...

"Olivia slept through the night at 3 months. She eats food I would never dream of trying. She is so sweet. I get complimented all the time for her manners and sense of humor and kindness. Sometimes I wonder if God is telling me that he gave me the best of the best and to run with it- and to let go of what's not meant to be." 

"It's not fair, Courtney. I see parents who are deserving and parents that may not be so deserving and I would say that if you walk away today I would tell Olivia that she's one lucky little girl. She has two of the strongest, most deserving parents that I could ever pick out for her....but I don't want you to be done. Not unless you're done and you're not questioning yourself because if you walk in these doors at 40 I'm either not going to be here- or you and I are going to have a very different conversation. So what ever decision you make- make sure you are right with it. And if you decide you've had enough, please come back here and give me a hug because I'm proud of you."

Another Kleenex. I swear I go through a whole box every time I'm in his office. I wish he would take out the big boxes for me and not the hospital sized boxes. 

We talked about tests he would like to take. I agreed and told him that depending on the results, we would make a decision soon. 

"Where's my picture?"

I had several to show him, I mean, how do I choose one? 

"There she is...she is our good egg" he smiled. 

I smiled while proudly showing her off. 

"She really is perfection. She's my life" 

My voice cracked. Showing off my daughter to the man who gave this gift of life to me is...unbelievable. 

"I know you're a good mom because you light up when you talk about her. You're our friend here in this office, but you're my family. What ever you decide to do- I support you and you will always have a special place in my heart." 

I left his office that day knowing I still have a decision to make. I don't know if we will try again, but I feel more confident knowing that Dr. Binor will support our decision and that no matter what happens, Dr. Binor will always be a part of our life- because we're family. 

One foot in front of the other

This miscarriage rocked my world. You would think that I would get use to experiencing such loss- that it would get easier to recover.

Not so much.

Shockingly, this miscarriage took us by surprise. We were so hopeful that we didn't think this was a possibility. We were so wrong.

I've become a professional crier. I can cry in bed and not make a peep. I can sit at work and have tears run down my face only to wipe them away 30 seconds later and recover in time for my next meeting. I can cry in the bathroom one minute but get it together to make dinner five minutes later. Crying has become my new reality- and I don't say that for you to feel sorry for me. It's just...the "gift" that infertility has brought me.

I've lost count as to how many embryo's we've gone through. Don probably knows- he's better at keeping track. Our journey has left me broken. As much as I said I would never let that happen, it has. The strength that I once had is gone. The fire in me has dimmed so much that I'm not sure I can ever get it back. Infertility has beat me down so much so, that I think it won this time.

When I was getting Olivia ready for bed the other night she told me how she wished that I had a baby in my belly. I thought I was going to hyperventilate. She was so sweet telling me what she had wished for, but it made me so sad.

"I'm not sure it's going to happen for us buddy"
"but why?"
"Because sometimes we don't get everything we wish for"
"Why?"
"I'm not sure buddy"

My voice cracked. I tried so hard to keep it together, but she saw the tears in my eyes.

"It's ok, Mom. I don't need a sister."

Anger. I went to bed that night so angry I could have screamed. I find myself shaking my head in my most quiet moments.

In the past, when we would miscarry or get a negative pregnancy test, we would say- "next time". We would cry, mourn the loss, but we always said, "next time". Now we look at each other and say, "what now? What do we do now?"

A few weeks ago I had a follow up appointment with my OB. The follow up was really a well being check. She asked me how I felt I was doing. I sat there for a good 30 seconds completely silent. I was trying to figure out how to put into words how I felt.

"I'm angry. I heard that baby's heartbeat and that makes me angry. I want answers but I know there aren't any. I'm angry right now in this office, but I'll go home and that anger will turn into tears because well, that's my every day."

"Normal. Those feelings are normal and I don't blame you one bit. I want to make sure you understand that there was nothing you did that caused this miscarriage"

"Oh, I know it wasn't me. I've done every single thing that was asked of me. I've followed all of the rules. I just want to know why?"

"Unfortunately, I think you have been incredibly unlucky."

That's putting it mildly.

4 kids. That's what I wanted. When Don and I were dating, I told him I wanted 4 kids.

We're not going to have 4 kids. It will never happen for us. We have one and she is healthy and I am forever grateful. For selfish reasons I want more, but more than anything in the whole world- I want it for Olivia. So much so that it kills me that I can't give her this gift.

Do I put all of my heartache aside and try again, for Olivia? Or do we call it quits and accept that we will forever be a family of three.

Soon after the miscarriage, Don booked a trip to Disney World. For the first time in my life, I had zero desire to go. He thinks it's a good idea to escape reality, clear our heads and then come back and make a decision. Deep down, I know he's right.

So that's what we are going to do. We are going on vacation, we will enjoy our little family- and then when we get back, we will decide our next steps.

For now, I'm taking everything a day at a time...putting one foot in front of the other.

Picking up the pieces

Picking up the pieces...I'm trying.

This week has been excruciating to say the least. The amount of disappointment and heartache I feel is almost unbearable at times.

When I found out that we were pregnant I told myself not to get so excited. When I told my family that the IVF was successful, I sent them a text saying, "no gifts, no cards, no celebrating, no congratulations...we're not there yet." Everyone followed my rules, except for me.

I told myself I wouldn't get ahead of myself, but then I picked out the crib...and then I started looking for names...and then I found a stroller I wanted...and then I planned the nursery out in my head....but worse, I thought of how we would tell Olivia that she was going to be a big sister- and that's the part that I just can't get over.

Everyone keeps offering to take Olivia out and occupy her so we can have a moment to ourselves. The truth is, she's the only reason I get out of bed every day.

I've always felt that we got extremely lucky with Olivia. When we were pregnant with her, we didn't know what the outcome would be. The odds were against her yet every week she got stronger and stronger and she fought harder and harder. I strongly believe that we were never suppose to have Olivia. She is a true miracle who just never gave up.

My brother sent me a message saying he admired my strength and that in time, the pain will start to ease up. There are moments in each day that I feel weak, but then I look at Olivia and think- no one had to be stronger than her. No one had to fight harder. It wasn't me, it was her. So when I feel weak, and when the pain takes my breath away, I look at this child and I tell myself to do it for her.

I use to pray every day. I'm not a big church goer, but for as long as I can remember, I've always prayed every single day. These days, I find myself so confused and bitter that I can't find myself to pray anymore. I have nothing nice to say. I've begged and pleaded, I've cried on my knees, I've made promises, I've proved myself to be a great mom- but that doesn't seem to count for anything. I often wonder if there is anyone up there listening to me. Can they hear me when I sit in the shower screaming so loud I get an instant headache? Maybe praying is silly- maybe I'm talking to no one. If there is a God, why would he allow pain to exist?  It's something I wonder every day.

Everyone has been extremely supportive this past week. Even though I haven't been answering my phone, I've listened to every message, I've read every text, email and card. All of the well wishes and support, the flowers, the hot meals, the visits...it means more than you'll ever know. If there is one thing that this whole experience has taught me- it's that we have an army of support. And for that, I am forever grateful.

Dr. Binor called me last Friday to check on me. We had a conversation that I'll keep private, but it was sincere and heartfelt and for as much as we are hurting, I know he is hurting as well. I mentioned that when we started up this past round, I told myself and everyone else that this was it for us. I can't for the life of me imagine going through this again. We've had one loss too many and it's getting harder to accept and harder to move on. He told me to pause those thoughts, grieve and then make that decision once I have my head together. I agreed.

The unknown is hard for me to deal with. I can say life isn't fair, but I have Olivia and that's more than what most people have. I can't for the life of me figure out why we're not meant to have more kids and why Olivia can't have a sibling. It kills me, but deep down I know that it's something I need to come to terms with. As hard as this miscarriage took me down, it hurts more knowing that I can't give Olivia what she wants most in life.

I was laying on the couch the other day and Olivia decided to lay with me. We worked on a project that was due the next day and she held my hand and told me, "We did such a good job. Mama and monk! Best team ever!" (monk is short for monkey)

I got so lucky Olivia Hope. You gave me the gift of being a Mom and I will forever be grateful for the team that we've become. What ever the future brings, we will be together.

Heartbroken

This is the hardest blog post I think I've ever had to write. I'm finding it hard to find the words. I have so many thoughts, but I can't figure out how to process those thoughts.

6 weeks, 5 days.

We made it 6 weeks, 5 days...and that's all God would give us.

On Thursday, January 18 I suffered a miscarriage.

On Wednesday I started to bleed right before my weekly appointment with Dr. Binor. Sherri did an ultrasound and assured me that everything was alright. Cervix was closed, lining was thick, baby was sitting cozy and heartbeat...yes, there was a heartbeat.

"Listen to this, Courtney"

She turned up the volume and let me take in the sounds of that beautiful heartbeat.

"I know you're scared, but everything looks great. Go home, relax and enjoy"

I went home, laid down, but I couldn't relax. Something wasn't right.

Come Thursday I started feeling a bloated pressure that I've felt one too many times. I couldn't shake the feeling because I knew, deep down, what was to come our way and sure enough, Thursday evening the bleeding increased.

Don and I went to the emergency room and needless to say we were both a wreck. When I get nervous I have full blown conversations with myself in my head. I kept trying to assure myself that there was a heartbeat and that this is going to be a rollercoaster of a pregnancy which in the end would deliver a trouble maker of a baby. My guess was that it was a boy.

After my initial exam in the ER, the doctor had a more positive tone to his voice.

"Cervix is closed Courtney. This is a great sign. Let's get you in for an ultrasound and see what that shows."

Cervix closed. Thank God! Just what I thought, a bad baby.

The wait was too long for a couple who were struggling to cling on to hope. We tried making small talk to pass the time and every once in a while one of us would make the other laugh. After what seemed like forever, they finally wheeled us into ultrasound.

I always try my best to read the ultrasound tech's face. I look for any expression that could possibly give a clue as to what they see, but this ultrasound tech was wearing her poker face and I couldn't get a good read as to what chance we had. I kept looking at Don who was studying the monitor profusely.  No one was making any faces and no one would look at me. The dark room was filled with silence and it killed me.

This ultrasound took longer than most that I've had. Once the tech left I looked at Don who said, "I saw something. I saw the baby." 

Oh, thank God. I'm two days shy of being 7 weeks pregnant and have already had 3 decent heart attacks thanks to this bad baby!

Once we got back into the room we waited for the doctor to confirm what Don saw. We were already there for a few hours and I was getting more than antsy. At this point I was shaking off the cramps and bleeding and was ready to get home to bed.

In walks the doctor.

"I'm sorry, I was hopeful. Baby doesn't have a heartbeat and you're still a couple days from miscarrying." 

He knocked the wind out of me. I guess I knew all along, but didn't want to believe it.

Don hurried the nurse up to get me discharged. I was hanging on by a thread and he knew I was about to flip. The nurse said sorry countless times and gave me a pitiful, poor soul smile that I wanted to slap off her face. She handed me the ultrasound results and discharge papers and told me to follow up with my OB.

As we were walking through the ER I started to read the ultrasound results.

"Twin pregnancy."
"Baby A- no heartbeat"
"Baby B- no heartbeat"

I stopped in my tracks and shouted "twins" to Don.

This is how we find out that we had twins? What. The. F*ck.

Unfair is not the right word. It's putting it too lightly and I have yet to find the words to explain the devastation, hurt, anger, hopeless, heartbroken feeling that I feel all at once. There's no word.

I met with my OB the next day and we decided that a D&C would be best. The cervix was still closed and we were days away from the actual miscarriage. My OB thought it would be best that we get the D&C so we can grieve and not prolong the whole process. I agreed and went in yesterday for the procedure.

As they wheeled me into the OR I started to cry. My OB tried making small talk and said, "tell everyone your daughter's name"

"Olivia."
"What's her middle name?"
"Hope."

A nurse, who I've never met before, smiled and said, "well isn't that a fitting middle name"
and just like that, I went to sleep.

The past few days have been brutal. As soon as I think I can catch my breath I just about lose it again. All I want to do is sleep, but I find myself wishing that once I wake up I realize that it's all been a nightmare and that all will be alright again.

My OB told me that once a healthy heartbeat has been detected, 94% of pregnancies turn out successful. Of course, I fall into that 6%.

The pain is still very much raw. This is the 6th baby we've lost and let me tell you, it doesn't get any easier.

My heart is broken and I don't know how to make the pain go away.

6 weeks, 5 days...and I loved every second.

Baby Steps

December 20th we transferred two viable, healthy embryo's. It was our 7th IVF attempt to have another child. It's brought bumps in the road that we didn't expect, countless tears, too many injections to count, multiple bruising, swelling, nausea and the list goes on. We've prayed. On our knees, in our cars, in the shower, before bed. We begged and pleaded. Our faith has been tested since this process first began. We crumbled. More than once. But we always got back up. We did bed rest and we waited the long 2 weeks that IVF couples have to wait before learning their fate. We counted days, hours, minutes, seconds.

We won.

On January 2nd we got our positive.

Before the celebration begins, we have a ways to go. You see, we've been here before. We are thrilled to overcome the first major hurdle, but we still have some work to do. Like Dr. Binor said, we are cautiously optimistic. HCG, estrogen and progesterone numbers look good. Everything is where it needs to be.

We have so many people who follow our story that it was hard to keep this one to ourselves. So, even though we want to scream from the rooftops...it's not time...not yet. This pregnancy has already brought some minor complications. Last week I was in the hospital with pancreatitis and ulcers due to the meds I'm on. Yesterday, I was in panic mode due to moderate bleeding. Fortunately the bleeding is coming from outside of the cervix- which means it's most likely due to the medication as well.

IVF does a number to your body. My body has a mind of it's own and in less than a week, I've been once again reminded that this won't be a cakewalk. There's part of me that feels a little frustration that I can't just take our positive for granted and enjoy the ride. Everything has been a battle for us. We will take this on together as a family and deal with anything and everything that comes our way.

Until we get the green light, we will not be telling Olivia. God forbid things don't go our way, I wouldn't want to hurt her heart.

So, as of today we are 5 weeks and 3 days pregnant. We are thankful and blessed, but we're holding our breath.

When we were pregnant with Olivia, Dr. Alexander would set short term goals for us. Every time she would set a goal I would well up and think it was impossible for us to reach the goal. She always smiled and would say, "baby steps".

So, that's what we are doing. Trying to slowly get through each day, setting short term goals. The green light feels like forever away, but I know we'll get there.

Baby steps.

And now we wait...

I was overwhelmed waking up this morning to so many kind messages. Everyone's hopes and prayers have been heard, we are truly blessed. 

Before leaving for our appointment, I put a little curl in my hair and applied a bit of lip gloss. I thought it was appropriate to look my best before getting knocked up. 

Walking in this morning I know we weren't alone. We have an army of support and for that, I am forever grateful. 

Dr. Binor will only transfer two embryos. I have 4 left. 1 embryo is from Olivia's batch back in 2011. The other 3 are from 2014. The way the embryos have been stored/frozen, changed between 2011 and 2014 so Dr. Binor focused his efforts on the 2014 embryos. Unfortunately, one embryo did not survive the thawing process, but the other two did. Dr. Binor says they look beautiful and he was happy with the direction we are headed in. 

"Let's get you pregnant. It's going to be a Merry Christmas."

"Yes, let's."

I appreciated his confidence. For the first time in several years, I'm just as confident.

Dr. Binor wheeled me into the OR and I was greeted by several happy, hopeful faces- Sherri, being one of them. Sherri performs all of my in office ultrasounds and she assists in the embryo transfers. She's been with me since day 1. 

I was a little quiet while being wheeled in. Overwhelmed, excited, nervous...but at peace. Whatever is suppose to happen will happen, but I have a good feeling and I felt like I was exactly where I was suppose to be. 

I felt a little pat on my head and heard a whisper from behind, "This is your time. Are you ready?" It was Sherri. 

"Ready." 

Roll call! The embriologist calls for a roll call before each transfer. 

"Courtney Cummings. DOB. Embryo Transfer. We have two embryos today. Sherri, are you ready?"

"Ready."

"Courtney, are you ready?"

"Yep."

"Dr. Binor, are you ready?"

"Let's get her cooking! Christmas baby here we come!"

The procedure itself is pretty quick. Sherri guides Dr. Binor via ultrasound and they discuss exactly where they are going to transfer the embryos. They point to the screen-

"Keep your eyes right here, Courtney..."

I can't help but tear up. 

"Here you go Courtney, here they coooommmmmeeee!"

A light appears on the screen. There they are. Our hopes, our dreams, our prayers, our heart. 

I look down at Dr. Binor and he looks at me. We lock eyes and smile. He gives me a wink and I stare at him with tears rolling down my face. As much as this is my and Don's moment, it's his too.

The embryologist confirms that the tube is empty and just like that, the two week wait begins. 

Bed rest for a couple days, increasing meds starting tomorrow and bloodwork the day after Christmas. 

Two weeks is a long time, especially for a person who doesn't pride herself on patience. 

The hardest part about infertility is that it's all out of our hands. We have zero control over the outcome.  So please, say a little prayer for us. 

Come on little embryos...make some magic. We've been waiting for you.