"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."