And now we wait...

The support...I am overwhelmed. I woke up this morning to countless emails, texts, Facebook messages and phone calls. I am speechless. I am touched. Thank you.

We successfully transferred two embryos today. And now, we pray and we wait.

In two weeks we will find out if we will be blessed with these two little souls...

The two faint white lights in the middle are our two little embryos! Get cozy little guys! We're ready for you!

Twas' the night before an embryo transfer...

And, here we are. I'm a little late at updating the current status of our trying for baby #2. Life has been hectic.

Good news is all of my testing came back in our favor. I can still carry a child.
Bad news is that we still don't know why the struggle.

With that, the big update is that tomorrow is our embryo transfer!

Turns out that Dr. B was probably right in recommending January as the transfer month. I'm obviously in too deep now, but last week as I was running all over town trying to finish our Christmas shopping I had a minor panic attack. Originally the transfer was suppose to be December 19 with 3 days of bed rest. That would have worked out perfect (meaning the holidays wouldn't have been disrupted). Unfortunately, I was bumped. Egg retrievals get priority over embryo transfers and apparently there are quite a few cases this month. With that, I was bumped to December 23rd. This didn't go over well. I sat in Dr. B's office crying because not only would I be in bed for Christmas Eve, but I would also be in bed for Christmas Day. This killed me. I want this embryo transfer more than anything, but I still have a two year old at the end of the day and if someone is going to be celebrating Christmas with her it's going to be her Mama!

Thankfully, after several attempts, Dr. B was able to move me up to the 22nd. Not perfect, but good enough. I'll be out of bed in time for Christmas morning!

I just put Olivia to bed, this will be my last time for 3 nights. It may not seem like much to most people, but this is our 5th round of IVF. That means I wasn't able to tuck my child into bed for a total of 15 days. That's 15 days too many for this Mama.

Everyone has been asking if I'm excited or nervous about tomorrow. It feels awkward that so many people know about the transfer. We usually go into these with only a couple of people knowing. We don't like the questions and we don't like when people pry for information. This time is obviously different- it's not bad, just feels different.

I'm not nervous or excited. I've learned to be hopeful, but not to get my hopes up. I feel...desperate. I can't imagine doing another round if this doesn't work. In my head, this has to work.

The medication takes a toll on your body and your emotions. Today was emotional. I'm getting a little impatient and snippy and I don't like it. I wrapped all of the presents and cried that this is my last day getting ready for Christmas. If I need anything these next few days, I'll have to depend on someone else and I don't like that either.

I am desperate for this to work. Not only for my sanity, but for the sleeping two year old who would make a great big sister. I'm desperate for this to work because if it doesn't, I'm afraid I'll break a little more. When people ask how I feel about tomorrow- I can't really put it into words. I just want this to go right. I just want this IVF crap to be over with.

I've definitely gained more weight this round. My belly is tender. My ass hurts. I cringe at the sight of a needle. I'm just over it.

These are SOME of the injections I've taken so far with this round...

These are the injections that I still need to take following the transfer...

This. Has. To. Work.

I'll go to bed tonight, say a little prayer and hope for the best. After tomorrow, it's out of our hands. It either takes, or it doesn't.

So please, say a prayer and think happy thoughts...

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Do you believe in love at first sight? The kind of love that gives you butterflies in your belly and makes your heart flutter at every waking moment. The kind of love that seems too good to be true, but that defines perfection. Honest love. True love. The kind of love that lasts forever. Do you believe?

I do.

On June 19, 2012, I fell in love and it was love at first sight.

My water broke at home the night before. I waited a couple of hours before going to the hospital- I wasn't 100% sure that that's what it was. It was still early, but I knew that we were within the "safe" phase. I was suppose to get induced a couple weeks later, but it was always my gut instinct that this baby would come on her own terms.

Doctor Alex promised to deliver my baby no matter what day or time she arrived. She was the only person I trusted being there with me. Not only that, but she had to perform a procedure immediately following the birth so she needed to be there.

Labor was kind to me. Of course there was screaming, tears and panic...but it wasn't as dramatic as I pictured in my head.

The room consisted of my husband, my sister Taylor and Dr. Alex. I didn't want a lot people in my room, but Taylor was a last minute add on. I felt myself panic the moment I found out my water broke and knew I needed someone in there that would keep the mood light. I also wanted pictures of every single moment and I trusted Taylor to capture those moments for us.

After about 15 minutes of pushing Dr. Alex told Don to get his scrubs on. He mentioned he wanted to deliver the baby and she promised that if all went well, she would let Don assist.

A few pushes later Don got what he asked for. He proudly (helped) deliver our little miracle, Olivia Hope. At that moment, we finally became, Mom and Dad.

It was love at first sight. I didn't want to let her go. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. As soon as they put that baby on my chest I let out the deepest of breaths that I had been holding in for 8 long months. We made it. We did it. As strong as Don and I had to be, so did Olivia. She was a fighter. She is the unknown. She is, Baby C. We never knew what our outcome would be. We hoped and prayed every single day, but there were never any guarantees. There wasn't one doctor or nurse that would promise us this gift. No one knew.

Olivia Hope is a downright miracle. I am blessed. We are blessed. I thank God every single day for bringing this child to me.

There is a picture my sister took that to this day is my favorite. It was the first moment we held our little miracle. This picture, it says it all. This child, she is loved.

I'm going to be a mom...

**This took place back in 2012. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...

Baby C's antics started to slow down a bit. She never really kicked, but because of her constant hiccups, I always knew she was still with me.

Doctor appointments never slowed down, but that was ok...I needed the constant reassurance to get through the day. 

By the time April came around Don and I started getting more excited about Baby C. We still mourned our other babies, but we allowed ourselves to enjoy getting ready for what we had hoped would be our little miracle. 

We ordered our baby furniture, wall decal and Don and my sisters took me to register. I had to sit in a wheelchair which made me a little sad. Everyone was so excited to register that I would find myself sitting in the middle of the aisle by myself while hearing the beep, beep, beep from the scanner two aisles down. I couldn't blame anyone for their excitement, but I so badly want to walk around myself and scan the items for my baby. Regardless, Don's face shined as he was scanning items we totally didn't need, but that he wanted. His excitement brought me back to the day I told him we were pregnant. It was good to see. He deserved this moment. 

I was home by myself the day the baby furniture came. This was a big day for me. It felt official. I picked this furniture out after researching hundreds of websites and reviews for the best of the best. I picked this out for my very own child. The delivery guys were carrying in big boxes of furniture while I sat on my front porch and watched...and cried. They gave me a few awkward smiles and glares, but little did they know how long I had waited for this moment. Getting the furniture was a huge milestone for us. 

After the furniture arrived Don put the wall decal up in the nursery. It's of a cherry blossom tree with birds. My sister found it and as soon as I saw it I fell in love. 

The decal came with 6 birds, Don asked what I thought about only putting up 3. At first I didn't agree, but then he said it would mean a lot to him if we only put up 3. Then I got it...3 birds. Our 3 babies. It was the most perfect idea. They should be included- I know that in some way, those 3 little lives will always look after Baby C and they will most certainly, always be in our hearts. 

The following month (May) was our baby shower. Our family threw the most beautiful shower to celebrate Baby C. I asked my sisters to throw the shower earlier than usual because I had a feeling that no matter what, this baby would come on her own terms. 

The shower was perfect. It felt good to celebrate with our friends and family who had supported and cheered for us every step of the way. My husband made a beautiful speech which brought everyone to tears. All in all, it was a great day. Perfect. 

After setting up the nursery and putting away all of the gifts, I stood in the middle of the room thinking, "Soon enough. Almost there. I'm going to be a Mom."

No days are safe...

**This took place back in 2012. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...

Slowly but surely we were making it through each day. Dr. Alex gave me weekly milestones to work toward. She would tell me we would have to make it to the following week so the babies lungs were developed, or eyes were developed. It was always week to week goals which helped me focus on remaining calm and helped me get to the next week. It was also a reminder not to push myself. She still had me on full bed rest, but would occasionally allow me to go to someone's house if I promised to stay on the couch, or go to a restaurant if I promised that Don would drop me off and pick me up at the door.

Leaving the house for short periods of time helped my sanity. I found myself getting jealous when I would be laying in bed while hearing kids play outside. Don once asked me what I looked forward to most when the day came that I would no longer be on bed rest- without skipping a beat I said, a walk. I couldn't wait to go take a walk. You take for granted the "little" every day things like taking a walk or going up and down stairs, but the day you're restricted from doing those things is when you fully understand the importance and privilege of every day physical freedom. I missed it all.

Bed rest was strict. Doctors always made it a point to remind me that my pregnancy was high risk. I never challenged their instruction/orders. I always did as I was told. Bed or couch, stairs once a day.

Even after following directions, I still wasn't in the clear. There were countless times where I would be laying in bed and full blown contractions would hit me like a ton of bricks. I would keep track on a piece of paper of how many I had within in the hour. I would hit anywhere between 10-20 contractions and would have to call the doctor. Most times I would be able to control the contractions by laying on my side or downing glasses of water. Not all times was I so lucky...

Dr. Alex told me I could go to dinner for my birthday.

"Dinner and that is it!!"

My family and friends were driving out to my favorite restaurant to meet me for my "big night out". I was excited to put maternity clothes on rather than my husbands t-shirts that I wore to lay in bed. While in the shower I started feeling contractions come on. I hurried back to bed to see if I could get it under control, while watching the clock get closer and closer to dinner time.

As silly as it sounds, I really wanted to go to dinner. I wanted to see my family, I wanted to leave the house and I wanted to celebrate my favorite day of the year, my birthday!

Unfortunately Baby C had other plans. Keep in mind it was March 10 (day before my birthday). My due date was in July. I counted something along lines of 22 contractions within one hour. Each contraction getting a little stronger. Dr. Alex told me it was time to head to the hospital, instead of her office I was to go straight to Labor & Delivery. This surprised me. She usually would always send me to either her office or the Radiologist for an ultrasound.

Dinner was off and I headed into the hospital. I was nervous as hell and made my brother to spread the news that I didn't want any visits or calls. I couldn't work myself up and I was in no mood to tell person after person the play-by-play.

When the nurse walked into our room she asked if I knew the difference between braxton hicks and labor contractions. She also asked me at least 10 times how many I experienced in an hour. I felt like she doubted my intelligence and thought I was being dramatic. After her interrogation she hooked me up to a monitor and left the room. Not even 20 minutes later she would return to tell me that I was having full blown contractions. Yeah, thanks Einstein.

Dr. Alex ordered a medication with hope that it would stop the contractions. They admitted me into a room and told me they would be monitoring me overnight. This upset me. Why was my pregnancy so out of control? Why couldn't my pregnancy be "normal"?

Don went to grab us some dinner and I sat in the room wondering if I would be going into labor that night. There was an empty baby bed that sat dead center from my bed. If I went into labor, what were the chances that a sleepy baby would lay in that bed?

A nurse assigned to my room came in to give my medicine. She told me she talked to Dr. Alex and that she was instructed to give her an update every hour. I knew the situation was serious.

The nurse told me to keep my nerves calm so they didn't bring on anymore contractions. Before leaving the room she said, "Get some rest, Courtney. You can't have this baby tonight!"

I didn't sleep a wink that night. I kept having nightmares that I went into emergency surgery for a c-section and that the outcome wasn't in my favor. They came in every hour to check my vitals and I was hooked up to machines from head to toe.

Once morning came Dr. Alex stopped by for a chat. She told me that the contractions subsided and I would be released to go home. If the situation repeated itself, I would have to come back. She told me our goal was 32 weeks. I sat there and cried. I was emotionally exhausted. She smiled, patted me on the back and said, "we've got this. Keep going."

Later that night my sisters and niece came over. It was my birthday and they made sure to make it special. They ordered my favorite dish from the restaurant we were suppose to go to the night before. Don bought an ice cream cake from my favorite place. The five of us ate pasta and ice cream cake in my bed. It turned out to be a good day. Thank God for family.

A few weeks later Don left town for a family obligation. This was the first time he left my side for a period of time and it was only for three days. It was good for him to get out of the house. I was happy that he was getting away. He deserved a little breather.

I had a doctor appointment. The baby had been quiet which meant she didn't have hiccups in quite some time. The only time I ever knew she was in there was when she had hiccups. She never moved and never kicked, but she always had hiccups.

Dr. Alex hooked me up to an NST to monitor the heartbeat and movement. I was suppose to hit a button every time the baby moved. I wasn't able to hit in once. There was no movement. The nurse walked in and handed me some juice. Still nothing. She walked in and handy me some candy. Nothing. Pop. Nothing. The final attempt was to "zap" the baby. They put a paddle on my belly where it shot out an intense vibration (nothing to hurt the baby). The baby's whole body jumped and her heartbeat picked up quite a bit...but no movement on her own. From there they rushed me into ultrasound.

They monitored the baby for a good half hour. Shaking my belly, putting pressure in areas....nothing. A half hour into it I could tell the tech was getting nervous. Just then a hand raised as if the baby was saying, "Do you mind!? I'm sleeping!"

The tech hurried and snapped a shot. We both looked at one another with our jaws dropped. Jesus...talk about relief.

Baby was good to go and I was released to go home. Not without a few words though. As I was leaving the office the crazy in me started shouting out loud to my belly.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again! Ever!"

I seriously had had it. Every appointment was a new surprise. Every week was a struggle. There were days I would sit and watch each minute pass. No days were safe. We just never knew when we would be hit with another bump in the road. How I or my husband didn't have a heart attack is really beyond me.

I remember sitting in my therapists office once. She said, "You became a mother, the moment you got pregnant."

It's so true. I started losing sleep, the moment I got pregnant.

Keep breathing...

**This took place back in 2012. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...

The couple weeks following the reduction are a blur. We didn't answer the phone, didn't want visitors and leaned on one another during every waking moment. I did everything in my power to keep my emotions in check and would allow myself the smallest of moments to fall apart. I would sit in the shower and let my tears flow, but I wouldn't let myself get hysterical. Every time I would cry I could hear Dr. B tell me to keep it together, for Baby C.

Once the worst days were over family started pouring in. We had meals coming from every other family member. Peter drove the hour to have dinner in my bed with me. Carrie and my Aunt would drive to my favorite restaurant and bring me my favorite pasta. Taylor would lay in my bed trying time after time to make me laugh. Don's sister brought over music and movies to help lift our spirits. My mom would make meals and clean for us. We received cards, cookies baskets, fruit baskets, chocolates, flowers- and the list goes on. . Don's parents constantly brought groceries. His Aunt Robin would sit and chat with me for hours. Every single thing that every single person did for us didn't go unnoticed. We were and still are so thankful for everything everyone did to help make our lives a little easier.

There was one particular visit that stood out the most. My Dad.

My Dad and Shai brought over dinner and a bunch of groceries one night. He was the last to come visit. He didn't rush because he knew I needed the space. Don and Shai sat downstairs so my Dad and I could be alone. He sat at the bottom of my bed and we just looked at each other. No words.

My Dad has always been the "there's no crying in baseball" kind of Dad. If you ran to him crying as a kid he would always say, "cut the tears. talk to me like an adult." Not insensitive though. My Dad probably has the biggest heart in the world, but he raised us to be tough, independent. He can find a solution to every problem- in his eyes, nothing is impossible.

So, I laid in my bed looking at my Dad. My heart was racing a million beats a minute. I wanted to crumble. I wanted to throw myself on the floor and kick and scream until all of the pain ran out. I wanted to be 10 years old again and have my Dad make every ounce of pain go away. I didn't want to be a grown up. I didn't want to be going through what we were going through. It hurt like hell and I needed my Dad to tell me what to do...how to do it.

"Cry."

I didn't say a peep.

"Cry. It's ok to cry. Cry."

And that's all it took. At that moment I fell apart. I needed to. I understood that I needed to keep it as together as I could for Baby C, but I'm not a robot!

"Life is a bitch, damn it. This sucks. If I could take it away for you I would, but you've got this. You're strong enough. You'll get through this."

I knew he was hurting for me. I hated that.

My Dad and I talked for a good hour. About life, God, pain, hurt, the future. Everyone who came to visit and offer their kind words and support helped a great deal, but it was the conversation with my father that was the turning point. He told me that after I was done crying to start enjoying the reality that at the end of the day, I was still pregnant. After all that we had been through we deserved to enjoy the pregnancy.

Every week following the reduction we had an appointment at Rush, sometimes two or three- mostly for ultrasounds. I was on full best rest, but was obviously aloud to make the trip to and from appointments. Because I was in the second trimester I could no longer see Dr. B. He only had medical privileges through the first trimester. Moving foward I was to flip flop between our high risk doctor and my OB.

I didn't mind so many appointments. The ultrasounds helped calm my fears for the most part and it was a good reminder that I was still pregnant. I guess that sounds funny to most people, but every day since the miscarriage I would pass blood clots each time I went to the bathroom or sat in the shower. And every time I would pass a clot, I would inspect to see if it looked abnormal or suspicious. Going to the bathroom was a constant fear and reminder to not take this pregnancy for granted.

About a month after the reduction we were starting to feel more hopeful that this pregnancy would make it through the initial high risk phase. I went to my OB for blood work and ultrasound not knowing really what they were looking for. To be honest, I lost track of all of the tests and learned to only worry if the doctor told me there was something to worry about. A couple days after the blood work I received a call from my doctor.

"I got your results back. I am comfortable saying that I don't think there is anything to worry about, but legally I have to report the results to you. One of the levels came back elevated showing a possible hole in the neck and spine."

"When you say, hole, what exactly does that mean?"

"A hole. An opening."

"WHAT THE FUCK!!??"

"No, no, no. I am telling you that I don't think there is any room to worry. Come to my office for a level 5 ultrasound and we'll go from there."

"What do you mean there's nothing to worry about!? There is a hole in my baby's neck and spine!!!"

"Courtney, the blood work is most likely picking up one of the other babies." (Keep in mind I was still carrying all 4 babies. I never passed Baby D from the miscarriage and Baby A & B were still present from the reduction).

I drilled her. I didn't understand what she was getting at and I was on the verge of passing out. I thought this was it. Was she telling me there was nothing to worry about just to make me feel better? Does a hole really mean a fucking hole!? Every ounce of cool I had was completely lost. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. I wasn't waiting for another damn ultrasound.

"The test is most likely picking up another baby."

"Why? How do you know? And why does another baby have a hole in their spine!?"

"Because those babies are deteriorating."

And just like that the wind was knocked out me. Oh my God. Deteriorating?? Oh my God. My babies. Deteriorating, in my belly, at this very moment. I could barely breathe. The visual was too much to handle. D-E-T-E-R-I-O-R-A-T-I-N-G. Deteriorating. OH. MY. GOD. NO!

I barely uttered another word. I hung up with her and called Don hysterical. Then I called our high risk doctor. After hysterically telling the nurse about my conversation with our OB, she told me to come in.

When the doctor came in he told me I looked pale as a ghost. I told him I couldn't take much more. Does baby C have the hole or is it true, the other babies are deteriorating?

He was very upset with our OB. He told me that he purposely didn't order that test for reasoning that it would of course pick up results from the other babies. He said there was nothing to learn from the test and that he didn't agree with our OB's decision to move forward with the test. He then gave me an ultrasound to show me the spine and neck of Baby C. No holes. He printed a few pictures and told me to call him any time I needed another ultrasound to calm my nerves. I appreciated the offer, and took him up on it a couple of times.

Ultrasound appointments kept me breathing throughout the pregnancy. Two of the ultrasound techs were familiar with my situation that they would show me Baby C and tell me to look away while they evaluate the other babies. Because those babies were still in my belly, they still had to report the size and no heartbeat. Most times I would look at the wall and cry, but the picture I held in my hand of Baby C usually helped soothe the sting.

We eventually made it out of the high risk phase from the reduction. It was the end of February and we still had months to go. I prayed to God that Baby C would make it full term and the remainder of the pregnancy would be less eventful and less tragic.

The day I forever lost a piece of my heart.

**This took place back in 2011-2012. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...I published this post without proofreading. I know there was grammatical errors. This was the hardest part of our story that I hope to ever have to write. Not everyone who reads this post will agree with my decision, but please don't judge me. The feelings are still very raw and I mourn my loss every day.

Dr. B put us in contact with a specialist at Rush. Before going to see him he asked Dr. B to give me another ultrasound. He wanted Dr. B to confirm that what Sherri saw was in fact the case. In the back of my mind I was hoping Sherri made a mistake and that this would all go away. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Not only did she confirm that I was pregnant with four babies, but she also confirmed that all four babies had normal heartbeats.

A few days later I was called in to the specialist. As I walked in the exam room the nurse looked at me with a big smile on her face and said, "So you are the most blessed patient that everyone is talking about!?"

I could have slapped her. Who the hell was she to smile at me? Define "blessed" lady! I came walking through the door with my head down- I haven't slept, I haven't eaten and I haven't gone an hour without crying. I would have appreciated it if she kept her chipper ass to herself.

She took my vitals and compared to the file Dr. B's office sent over. She noticed I lost weight and made a comment that if I wanted a healthy pregnancy I would need to stop losing weight. This pissed me off.

"I'm losing weight because every time I see an ounce of food I want to vomit. Because every time I catch myself wanting to pass out I have to remind myself to keep breathing. Because I can't stay awake long enough before I find myself crying myself back to sleep. And, I'm not the most blessed patient. Keep reading my file lady! I'm not here to find out my due date. I'm here to find out when I'm suppose to terminate this pregnancy!" At this point I sat in the chair with my arms crossed, head down and continued to cry my eyes out. I knew she was embarrassed and I knew she felt bad, but I didn't care how anyone else was feeling beside myself.

After my vitals were taken they called Don back into the exam room to be with me. Thank God for this. I couldn't go through this appointment by myself. There would be several more of these appointments and if it weren't for my husband I would be lost. I was emotionally broken, sleep deprived and didn't have an ounce of hope. When the specialist came in he was blown away by our situation. 2 embryos splitting with all 4 taking is incredibly rare to say the least. This man looked and talked to me like I was a science experiment. He spoke using medical terms that sounded like a foreign language. I was so upset and so frustrated that I found myself tuning out. I stared at the ceiling and let Don ask all of the questions. I did this with every appointment. I would lay there as they walked Don through the ultrasound while answering his questions. I rarely ever said a peep. When we got in the car I would snap out of my daze and ask Don what the doctor said. This was the only way I knew how to get through these appointments.

Our specialist was in full agreement with Dr. B. A reduction was necessary. He didn't think I could go full term with these babies. Here is a quick rundown of each baby.

Baby A and B shared a sac. Originally they thought there was a thin wall separating the two, but a few ultrasounds later it was proven that these two needed to be reduced.

Baby C looked healthy. Baby C had a sac of its own with plenty of amniotic fluid.

Baby D had a sac of its own, but lacked a healthy amount of amniotic fluid. Doctors predicted that this baby would miscarry on its own. If not, Baby D would need to be reduced as well.

The plan was to reduce A, B and D. A reduction is an invasive procedure. The specialist explained that there would no guarantee that Baby C would make it, but by doing the reduction, this was our best chance to walk away with a baby.

The reduction was scheduled the week of Christmas. As soon as they told me the date I cried. I remember thinking that every Christmas from here on out would be a reminder of what would be the worst day of my life.

A reduction can only be completed through your first trimester for obvious reasons. Therefore, there was a rush to get it done the week of Christmas as I was nearing the end of my first trimester. Our specialist then informed us that another doctor would be performing the reduction at another hospital within the Chicagoland area. He explained that Rush doesn't allow reductions to take place at their hospital. When I asked why he explained that they view the procedure as an abortion and for religious beliefs they do not allow it. Let me tell you, in that very moment, I felt like the dirtiest piece of shit that ever existed.

A couple weeks later Don and I sat down with my therapist. She got me through the IVF process, I thought it would be good that we meet with her to get us through the reduction. We were both struggling with the decision and we needed to get on the same page when it came to our views and beliefs. We both cried our eyes out and said what we needed to say. I made a comment in that session that I struggle with to this day. I told her that had I known this was going to be the scenario, I would have never done IVF to begin with. I would rather not be pregnant then have to deal with all of this.

I left that session feeling crappy about my comment. It was the intention to reduce three babies. I still had to hold on to hope that I would walk away with one.

A half hour after we left the therapist office I started to miscarry, in a Portillos.

Don rushed me to the closest ER. Unfortunately, it wasn't a hospital that had any affiliation with Rush. This meant that my doctors had zero privileges when it came to my medical care.

They wheeled me into ultrasound to get a better idea of what the situation was. When I got in the ultrasound tech who was about my same age asked if I was "really pregnant with quads!?" That's when I snapped back, "I'm having a miscarriage! Why don't you tell me if I am even pregnant anymore!" She never looked back at me. She finished the ultrasound and had me moved back into the ER. By the time I got back to my room my siblings, mom and Don's parents were there waiting. This overwhelmed me. I'm a very private person and though I appreciated everyone's support, I wanted to be by myself.

A short moment later the doctor came in to tell me that Baby D miscarried. Babies A, B and C were still holding on, but I was bleeding internally so he was doubtful that the pregnancy would have a positive outcome. They kept me overnight to monitor the bleeding. The entire time we had constant contact with Dr. B (who also communicated with our specialist and OB). Dr. B was still hopeful. As long as my body was slowly passing the blood, he still had hope for Baby C.

My reduction was moved back since they couldn't perform the procedure due to the bleeding. I was on complete bed rest and was absolutely miserable. The bleeding was heavy and continued for weeks. I was hesitant to go to the bathroom because I was afraid to see what would be in the toilet. I would sift through blood clots with my bare hands in the shower. I never knew what exactly I was looking for, but I was petrified of miscarrying another baby.

Don and I went to meet with the doctor who was to perform the reduction. I was 13 weeks pregnant and had no clue what to do. We had toyed with the idea of not moving forward with the reduction and see how far along I could make it. I won't discuss the conversation we had with the doctor, but what I will say is that his bedside manner was completely inappropriate and made the appointment worse than it needed to be. The doctor had little patience for a grieving couple and told us that if we were to move forward with the reduction we needed to do so that very day. It was getting to the point that I would be too far along to have the option.

Both visibly upset, I asked for privacy and Don and I called Dr. B. I was hysterical crying informing Dr. B of how our appointment was going. I told him that we were both confused and wondered if moving forward with the pregnancy was an option.

"Here are your options. You can move forward with the pregnancy, maybe make it to 17, 18, 19, 20 weeks. My opinion is that you will deliver and bury 3 babies. OR, you can move forward with the reduction and give Baby C the best possible chance of surviving. If you move forward with the reduction I want you to promise me not to cry and work yourself up. You take care of your body and give that baby a chance."

That was it. It was all I needed to hear. As much as I thought I would never be capable of a reduction, I am telling you that I am not strong enough to bury a baby, let alone three.

Don and I made the decision, a decision that we never thought we would ever, ever have to make. A decision that broke our hearts. We moved forward with the reduction.

Surprisingly, I was awake during the reduction. I had hoped he would have put me out. They put patients to sleep to get their wisdom teeth removed, they should put patients to sleep before they have their hearts ripped out of their chest. Don stayed in the room with me. I wish he hadn't. To this day I wish he hadn't witnessed what went on in that room. There was no convincing him to walk out. He was there for me and sat by the top of the bed the entire time.

If the above bothers you, please stop reading now. 

A Multifetal Pregnancy Reduction (aka- Selective Termination) is done by ultrasound. The doctor inserted a needle into my abdomen, into the fetus. Once he made contact with the fetus he injected a fluid to stop the heartbeat. The room was dark and it was the doctor, nurse, myself and Don. It was quiet. There was no small talk. Don had his head down. I looked at the wall to the left of me (which was where the medical cart was sitting). If I looked straight I could see the procedure being done, if I looked to the right I could see the ultrasound monitor. I chose looking to the left.

Every once in a while the Doctor and nurse would communicate, but they stayed true to how sensitive this moment was for us. The nurse would speak up to help guide him to the fetus. He would say things like, "I'm in." "Almost there." "Still a heartbeat." "Heartbeat terminated."

After the first fetus was terminated he removed the needle and emptied the fluid he removed from the sac. He did this on the medical table sitting right in front of my eyes. I about lost my mind. I knew I had to keep still, but my God- I felt like I was suffocating alive. How cruel that we had to go through this.

I didn't say a peep, but I cried my eyes out. I said sorry at least a hundred times. I was so sorry to my babies. I was so sorry that I gave up. I was so sorry that I made the decision I made. I was so sorry that I couldn't follow through with my promise to live a great life with these babies. I was so, so, so sorry.

Once the second fetus was terminated the Doctor looked at me and told me that he thought I made the right decision. I didn't respond, I couldn't. The nurse quickly took an ultrasound picture of Baby C and handed it to me. She told us to hold on to hope for this baby. I was sent home to be on complete bed rest. I was still bleeding internally from the miscarriage and because of the termination, Baby C's survival rate was at risk. Every two weeks the chances of survival increased. The doctor said that if we made it an additional 6-8 weeks, Baby C should survive.

Going home that day is a complete blur. I left that office with a broken heart that day. I will forever live on with a missing piece of my heart. Dr. B's voice kept playing back in my head, "Don't cry. You take care of your body and give that baby a chance." I'm not going to lie, I cried. I let the tears roll from my eyes, but I wasn't hysterical. I didn't let myself get worked up, but I would lay there and let the tears roll out. I would only stay awake until I felt myself breaking, and then I would go back to sleep.

I slept with my ultrasound picture and I held my belly every waking moment.

Please, Baby C, I need you. Please.

"Stop counting. Please. I can't breathe."

**This took place back in 2010-2011. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...I published this post without proofreading. This post was a big step for me.

The "2 week wait" is the longest, most brutal wait. Minutes seem like hours, days seem like weeks, weeks seem like months. It's awful. You over analyze every ache, pain, cramp, soreness. Every time I felt something that didn't seem right or felt like a period cramp I would Google what I was feeling to see if that was "normal". I read blog after blog, website after website. I always tell people that that "2 week wait" can make a person go insane.

It was finally my turn. After two long weeks, I went to Dr B's office to get my blood work done. He gets results back the same day which is a beautiful thing. I had to work that day which you would think was the best thing for me, but instead of keeping busy with work I held my phone and watched every minute pass. My boss and I had a client meeting that afternoon. Of course Dr. B was running late with results so I had to go into the meeting clenching my phone waiting for the "the call". Emily (my boss) at the time was beyond supportive and knew I would have to excuse myself once I got the call.

Sure enough, 10 minutes into the meeting my phone rings. I darted for the door, took a deep breath and answered the phone.

"Courtney?"

"Mmm hm. Yep. It's me"

"HCG is 89. You are definitely pregnant. Congrats my friend."

I couldn't say anything. Tears rolled down my face while I stood there looking out at Lake Michigan. It was the most stunning view which made that phone call one of the most beautiful moments of my life. After hanging up I gave myself a second to take it all in. I remember thinking, "finally, we did it."

After finishing the meeting I told Emily I had to go. I couldn't tell her the results of the phone call even though she was dying to know. Don had to be the first to know. He deserved hearing the news in person and I knew exactly how I would tell him.

I got home, wrapped his gift and waited for him to get home from work. It seemed like forever for him to get home. He wasn't expecting the results that day. I told him we wouldn't be getting the results until after the weekend. When he walked through the door I practically threw the gift at him. My patience had officially run out and I couldn't wait a second more for Don to find out that he was going to be a Dad.

He opened the gift and pulled out an infant size Blackhawks jersey. If you know my husband you know that he is a die hard Hawks fan. Every time we've welcomed a niece/nephew to the family he goes out to buy them their first jersey. It was only right that I do the same for him.

I have never seen a bigger smile on my husbands face. We stood in the middle of the kitchen holding one another, both crying. We barely spoke. This was our moment that we had been waiting for for over two years. We deserved this moment.

Because my HCG was so high I was able to get an ultrasound a week later. That's when it was confirmed by Sherri, Dr B's ultrasound nurse.

"Congrats, Courtney. I see Baby A and Baby B! You are pregnant with twins!"

Dr B's suspicion was right all along. A little overwhelmed, I loved hearing this news. I walked in the waiting room to show Don the ultrasound picture. I showed him both babies. We laughed so hard in the hallway. Of course this would be the case. We cried and stressed over getting pregnant for how long and now we don't only get one baby, but two!

I was beyond excited that I went to the store and bought a picture frame that said "Two Peas in a Pod". I put the ultrasound picture in the frame and wrapped it up. This would be the gift that we presented Don's parents to announce the good news.

We were both on a complete high that week. We went to a nice dinner to celebrate. We talked about the future and how we would move out of the master bedroom so we could fit two cribs in there. I browsed online at wardrobes for twins. It was exciting. Our family was complete. All of the frustration and pain we endured was over, we were going to be a family four!

Or so we thought...

The following week I had another ultrasound appointment. Don didn't come since we both had work that day. I walked in there feeling like a proud Mama-to-be and couldn't wait to get more pictures of my little peanuts.

Sherri made small talk with me while getting the probe into position.

"Here they are."

Just as she went to show me she pulled back the monitor.

"Oh wow, there's three. You're having triplets."

My eyes just about popped out and my heart started beating a little faster.

"Three? Oh my God."

Sherri didn't say a word. I looked at her face and could tell she was in complete concentration. She was looking at the monitor in complete shock.

Clearing her throat she quietly said, "Four. One, two, three, four."

"Stop counting. Please. I can't breathe."

I looked up at the ceiling and started to cry. To say that I was overwhelmed is a complete understatement. Am I on candid camera? Is this a sick joke? What the hell is happening? What are we going to do!? I had a million thoughts running through my head.

Sherri looked at me and asked if I was ok. I couldn't utter a single word. The shock knocked the wind out of me. I laid there crying at the ceiling unable to move. She left the room to give me a moment. Once I got dressed and walked out she told me that she paged Dr. B and he would be calling me shortly. I couldn't say anything. I walked past her in a daze and left the office.

Standing in the hallway I knew I had to call Don. How do I tell him? How will he take it? What are we going to do? How do we go from zero babies to four babies? How will be afford four babies?

"Hello."

"What I'm about to tell you isn't a joke."

"Ok. What's wrong?"

"Four. There's four."

"Four, what?"

"Four babies. I'm pregnant with four babies."

From there I went from crying to hysterically sobbing.

Don took the news better than I did. Though I could sense the panic in his voice he assured me that it would all work out and that we are fortunate to have enough love for all four.

A short time later Dr. B called. He told me that if I was driving he wanted me to pull over, so I did. I sat in a parking lot while he delivered a blow that I never knew existed.

"Dr. B, what happened?"

"Both eggs split and all four took."

"What? How?"

"You're not going to have four babies."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't have four babies. This pregnancy is high risk and I don't believe your body can handle quadruplets. Your health is at risk and the babies health are at risk. I've set up an appointment to speak with a doctor who specializes in high risk pregnancies. He is going to recommend a pregnancy reduction."

"What is that?"

"It is a procedure to terminate multiple fetuses. I'm sorry, Courtney. This isn't a good situation."

"I can't breathe. My heart. I can't. I can't breathe."

I hung up the phone. The conversation we had will forever change my life. I sat in the parking lot and screamed on top of my lungs. I screamed at my Godfather who was suppose to be my guardian angel. I screamed at God for giving us the best moment of our life and then ripping it away while leaving us breathless and devastated. I was completely broken. The pain of that phone call will forever burn in my mind. The phone call I had to make to my husband informing him of the reduction nearly killed me. To have to deliver that sort of news to a man who desperately wanted to be a father was beyond unfair.

The nightmare was only beginning and our two naive selves had no clue what we were about to face in the coming weeks.

"Your tubes are blocked."

**This took place back in 2010-2011. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...


"Your tubes are blocked." 

"Come again?"

"Your tubes. They are blocked."

Laying in the middle of the cold ultrasound room with complete and utter confusion I knew, this was going to be the start of a long journey for us.

Since beginning this blog I have received nothing but supportive emails from people all over the country. Everyone's question is always, "how did you know you needed IVF?" "What started this all?"

My husband and I were trying to have a baby with no success. Month after month we would get a negative pregnancy test which took away all of the "fun" from trying for a baby. Everyone around us either had kids or were pregnant and we just felt like total failures.

At the time I worked with a friend who was way too familiar with infertility. She suggested that I go see my OB and start getting tested. It had only been 10 months of trying and I knew Dr. A wouldn't see anyone until they had been trying for at least a year. Do I wait for two more months? Or, do I follow my intuition and lie about how long we had been trying for and make the appointment? So, I did what any person with zero patience would do, I lied.

I went through two months of blood work and ultrasounds and passed every test thrown my way. Don did his part and received an "A" for effort ;)

The last test she wanted to do was a Hysterosalingogram (HSG). It's an xray of your uterus and fallopian tubes. The doctor inserted a thin tube in my uterus and pumped dye through to see the flow of the tubes. If all goes well you're suppose to see the dye run through the tubes- it looks like little squiggly lines. I laid there and she kept pumping, pumping, pumping. I saw the dye, but it ultimately ran right back out. My tubes wouldn't open, not even a smidge.

When she said they were blocked I completely panicked. What? Why? How? I had never had surgery, no scar tissue- it didn't make sense. There was/is no rhyme or reason as to why these tubes are blocked.

Dr. A didn't really seem fazed. She told me the next step was surgery to open up the tubes.

Oh shit. Like, real surgery? The kind where you're put under? I've never broken a bone let alone had surgery.

She was fairly confident that this would be my fix and that I would be on my way to make some cute, healthy babies. I agreed to the surgery and a few weeks later I went under the knife for my "easy" fix. 

Once I woke up from anesthesia I asked for two things. 

  1. A milkshake

  2. Are my tubes open?

She had good news and bad news. Good news, my left tube was partially open, enough where she thought an egg could get through. Bad news, the right tube wasn't budging. She made another incision and tried for a different angle with no success. 

I hate when there is good news followed by bad. It's never good enough for me. The partially opened left tube gave me zero comfort. Dr. A wanted us to try naturally a couple more months before we look into other options. I didn't agree with her thinking, but I did as she recommended. 

The next two months were a complete failure. I got my period, but never ovulated. We didn't even have a chance. With that, she recommended that we begin to see a specialist. The best was Dr. B, but she said he was hard to get into so she told me to go to some fertility clinic as they could get me in sooner. 

Not happy and totally discouraged I spoke with my girlfriend who faced fertility issues of her own. 

"Oh no. No, no, no. Call Dr. B. He is the best. I wouldn't go to anyone else. Call him. If you want a baby, he is your man."

Done deal. I wanted the best so I called to make an appointment for a consultation. When the receptionist told me that his first available was in two months, I about fell off my chair!

"Lady! I don't think you heard me. My husband and I have been trying for over a year now and I need to get in right away!"

My complaining mixed with hopeless frustration didn't help any. The waiting game continued.

The day we met Dr. B I could have bet my life that I was on candid camera. This man walks in with biggest smile, thickest accent and full of jokes. I remember wondering what he was smiling about. I was sitting there feeling empty and pissed off and was in no mood to laugh at his jokes. He told me he would need a couple cycles of his own tests to determine which route to we would be taking. He wasn't impressed with a partially opened tube, especially not knowing why the tubes were closed in the first place. His fear was that the tube would close back up at any time.

Two months of additional tests was incredibly draining. Every test he took didn't come back in my favor. My estrogen levels are too low. My body doesn't produce progesterone. I only ovulate on the right side (right tube is closed). My cycle is all over the place which is probably why there are months I go without ovulation. Every phone call I received brought tears to my eyes. There were days I would leave the doctor and scream in the parking lot. I would sit at my desk with my head down and bawl. It wasn't going to be an easy road for us and I wasn't sure how prepared I would be to face the unknown.

After two full cycles of testing, Dr. Binor recommended that we move forward with IVF.

"Not only do I think you're pregnant, but I think you're pregnant with twins."

**This took place back in 2011. This is our story about getting pregnant with our Olivia...

IVF it is! No problem. Take my eggs, take Don's sperm...we're good to go!

Or, so I thought.

Dr. B explained to Don and I the brutal process of IVF.

"There's a lot of injections. There's a lot of pills. There is weight gain. There are a lot of emotions. It can cost a lot of money. IVF can make or break a couple. There is a 30% chance you will achieve pregnancy with IVF." 

30%!? 3-0? WTF!? I guess we were a little naive to this whole IVF thing. I figured it would be more like a 75% chance, no? I knew there were injections, but I didn't realize how much. I knew there would be pills, but I didn't realize how crappy they would make me feel. I could care less about the weight gain, so that wasn't an issue. Emotions...I've been emotional for two years now, so that's nothing new. Money- thankfully our insurance took care of a big portion of IVF. There were meds we had to pay for, but ultimately, it was doable. As for our relationship, that didn't concern us. We were (and still are) a rock solid couple. We face nothing alone. We do everything together. As long as we are together, we can do anything.

So, we signed on the dotted line and started the first round of IVF. We felt good about it. Confident. This was the answer to our prayers. If the painful shots would result in a baby then bring it on. I could take it.

The meds and injections went pretty smooth. Before we knew it the day of the egg retrieval was here.

Now, here's the crappy part. You go through a cycle of meds, blood work and internal ultrasounds. It is pricey, draining and your body is beyond sore. Once the egg retrieval comes around there is ZERO guarantee that any eggs are viable to be implanted. Once we learned of this it felt like someone stacked a pile of bricks on my shoulders. It's because of my body that we are here in the first place and if I'm unable to produce any quality eggs you might as well stick a fork in me. I already feel like a failure. I've already accepted blame for not being able to get pregnant naturally. Please, God, bring me some eggs (Grade A would be nice).

I was put to sleep for the egg retrieval and woke up to Dr. B standing over my bed.

"How many?"

"21. You did great."

"I've always been an overachiever." Zzzzz....back to sleep I went.

21 eggs!! I was feeling good. I was sent home to rest while the Embryologist worked her magic with our eggs and sperm. Dr. B would call the next day to give us an update and we were to go back in in three days for the egg transfer.

"You have 11 eggs. Looks good!"

"11? What did you do with my other eggs!?"

"11 is great. The other eggs were not viable."

I felt a little disappointed, but at least I still had 11 to work with.

Once our egg transfer came Don and I both walked in with our game faces on. We were ready. After almost two years of trying it came down to this moment. I did my best to keep my emotions in check, but the medication tends to get the best of you. Our families knew we were going through IVF, but no one knew where we were at with the process. This was a very emotional, personal journey and we wanted to do this ourselves.

Dr. B sat with us before he took me in for the procedure. He was very happy with the quality of our embryos and we all agreed that two would be transferred. He said he would "park the embryos" and after that it's in God's hands. At that point Don gave me a kiss and off I went.

The procedure is done in Outpatient. They wheeled me into the OR which had to be 40 degrees. I was a little nervous to see a team of nurses waiting for me. In the corner stood the Embryologist. She was waiting for the green light to get my embryos. Sherri, the ultrasound nurse from Dr. B's office was there to assist him. She's always been so sweet and supportive that I felt comfort to have her standing by my side. One of the nurses noticed that I was wearing a ring on my finger. She told me I needed to remove all jewelry before we begin. Sherri looked down and saw the ring. It clearly wasn't a fashion statement I was trying to make. This ring was so much more than that as it was my Uncle's, who just so happens to be my Godfather. He passed away when I was younger. He is the person that I cry to when I'm alone at night and I needed him with me at this moment. She knew it meant something to me and told the nurse it was fine that I keep it on. I thanked her and she winked back.

The egg transfer is done by ultrasound. It is the most surreal experience I have ever gone through. Dr. B inserts the catheter with direction from Sherri. Once in the correct spot, he gives the Embryologist the green light. She is then escorted to get the tube of embryos. Once she comes back the team stands around and does a little roll call.

"COURTNEY CUMMINGS. DOB, MARCH 11, 1983. WE ARE DOING AN EMBRYO TRANSFER. IT IS 9:13 AM ON WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 3" I made up the date, I don't remember the exact date, though my husband will remind me once he reads this ;)

The Embryologist then holds up my tube wrapped in towels and says, "COURTNEY CUMMINGS. DOB, MARCH 11, 1983. EMBRYO TRANSFER. WE ARE TRANSFERRING TWO EMBRYOS TODAY." She then hands over the tube to Dr. B who tells me to keep an eye on the ultrasound screen.

"Ready, Courtney?"

"Yep."

"3-2-1, fly little embryos!"

And just like that, two little white lights appear on the screen. I didn't utter a sound. I had tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. In my head all I kept repeating was, "please, please, please, please..." I felt helpless, but hopeful. This was the moment we've been waiting for. Please, God, let this be it for us.

Sherri gave me an ultrasound picture which I still have to this day. I have it in a box, hidden away. Dr. B put me on bed rest for 3 days. My picture stayed under my pillow for the entire 2 week wait.

Every day after the transfer I was feeling more and more crappy. My sides hurt, my stomach was swollen and it was getting harder to breathe. I called and spoke to a nurse who told me to hang in there. She said the medicine can make you feel pretty crappy and that if it got worse to call again.

About 5 days after the transfer I was tossing and turning in my sleep. Breathing was getting harder. After crying on and off for several hours Don insisted that he take me to the emergency room. Dr. B was paged and requested they do an ultrasound of my stomach and chest. In the meantime, he was on his way to see me.

The ultrasound showed fluid filling my abdomen and chest. So much so that the fluid was crushing my lungs making it hard to breathe. I was suffering from Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (OHSS). It basically means that my ovaries were over stimulated. When this happens your ovaries work overtime which causes them to secrete fluid.

Dr. B told us that the fluid would need to be removed immediately, a procedure called, Paracentesis. This is when a needed is inserted into your abdominal cavity and drains the fluid through a tube into a jar. This is also done by ultrasound. He met with every doctor and nurse before they were aloud to step foot into my room. The doctor in charge of the procedure told me that once the fluid starts to drain, my lungs will begin to collapse and that if all goes well, they will expand on their own a few minutes later. This gave me zero comfort. Lung collapse? If all goes well? Eek!

They sent Don out of the room which really upset me. I was scared out of my mind and really wanted him there for the support. A male nurse slid a table up for me to lean on. He stood there holding my shoulders back. Another nurse held an ultrasound to my back while the doctor began the procedure. The initial "tap" didn't hurt much, but once he started moving the needle inside the cavity was when I started to sweat. The male nurse tried making small talk with me, but as I started to talk I quickly started gasping for air. The longer the procedure went on for, the more I was losing my breath. I lunged forward with panic. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were wide open and I felt like I was suffocating. The nurse held me tight to help prevent me from making any sudden movement. The Doctor kept telling me to hold on and all I could do was kick my feet and bite down on my hospital gown. I couldn't speak. I couldn't cry. I felt like I was going to die. After much more kicking and my body shaking profusely, the nurse told the Doctor I was done. I could hear him repeat, "She's done. She's done. She's done. Doc, she's done." After what seemed like hours of pain, the doctor pulled the needle out and held my upper body up as I was beginning to collapse on the bed. I couldn't stop coughing and gasped for air. Once I started to catch my breath they let Don back in my room. I cried as soon as I saw his face. They filled an entire jug of fluid which looks like Guinness beer. That procedure was BRUTAL and made me appreciate every ounce of air that my lungs are privileged to take in. After a long drawn out day, Dr. B released me to go home. A few days later I found myself back at the hospital. My symptoms came back and Dr. B ordered another Paracentesis. As soon as he said the word I cried. This time I knew what to expect which made it even worse. The same doctor and nurse performed the procedure.

After the procedure Dr. B came back in our room. He explained that my ovaries should have recovered by now. The medication was cut back which would help prevent my ovaries from working overtime.

"Not only do I think you're pregnant, but I think you're pregnant with twins."