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. 

It's go time...

After more than a two year break our time is finally here.

It's go time!

Level's are up, lining is beautiful and our little frozen embryo's are just about to come to life!

Dr. Binor is back to work, healthy and has agreed to take on a limited number of cases, ours of course being one of them.

The medication is getting to me more than it has in the past. The tears come and go, but I've tried keeping myself busy while getting ready for Christmas. I've always loved the holidays, but ever since becoming a Mom, it's just more special. Being surrounded by family and playing Santa's helper is just what the doctor ordered to get us through this round, the final round.

I say it's the final round, because this is the round that will work- it has to. I say the final round because I don't see us going through another multiple rounds. I say the final round because we've worked so hard to get to where we are today that this is our round, I know it.

We have been through multiple frozen embryo transfers and unfortunately we haven't had the outcome we had hoped and prayed for. Ectopic and miscarriage are the only close to pregnancies we've faced after doing a FET. Everyone who knows me and reads my blog knows that I am partial to fresh cycles. My Olivia was a fresh cycle so I guess I'm a little biased.

I try not to play doctor and I trust Dr. Binor more than most people in my life. He says it could work. He says it should work. So we will try. I don't have many frozen embryo's left and I only have one fresh cycle left in a lifetime (per insurance)....so I'm literally putting all of my eggs in this basket ;) and I am asking everyone who has joined us on this journey to pray for our little embryos. We need them to survive the thawing process and we need them to be healthy, viable embryos in order for the transfer to happen.

I am trying to stay focused and not feel the pressure, but it often feels that I am walking around with a load of bricks on my shoulders.

For people who are going through infertility, this is the first and last thing they think about every single day. We've paid our dues and we're great parents...I just can't imagine this not going our way.

We thank everyone who has joined us on this journey. Come Wednesday, when we go in for our transfer, I know we aren't alone. The constant calls, texts and emails remind us of how lucky we are. No matter what happens this round, we thank you all for the constant love and support. It means more than you'll ever know.

xoxo

Please pray.

5 days before we were to have our FET (frozen embryo transfer) I received a message that Dr. Binor was ill and we would need to cancel.

Ill???? He's got 5 days to take some medicine and get better! What the hell is going on!?

The message didn't add up. He wouldn't cancel if he were fighting the flu. This man lives and breathes babies and he was just excited as we were for our FET. 

I called Nora, my case nurse. She's my favorite and she's been my nurse since before we had Olivia. I could hear the worry mixed with uncertainty in her voice and my heart sank. 

"We don't have any answers at this point. I am hoping and praying for the best, but we don't know if and when he will be back. Hold off if you can. If you can't wait we can make a recommendation for you to see another specialist."

What. The. F***. . 

As disappointed as I was that we had to cancel our FET- the amount of disappointment couldn't measure the amount of heartbreak I felt for Dr. Binor. I've lost sleep wondering how he's doing and what could be wrong. I've called his office every couple days for an update. Thanks to HIPPA I haven't been able to find out much, but I am hoping and praying for a positive outcome. 

Family and friends have been quick to tell me to find a new doctor. I understand where they are coming from, but it's more complicated than just finding a new doc. My frozen embryos are with Dr. Binor's lab. To transfer embryo's costs a pretty penny and I only have 3 left. 2 embryo's are transferred every FET. Per insurance, I only have ONE egg retrieval left in a LIFETIME. One. That's it. If and when we make our move- we have to be 1000000% certain that we pick the right doctor. There's no room for error here and to be honest, I'm not ready to make a move. 

When I was admitted to the hospital with OHSS, Dr. Binor showed up in his pajamas. He spoke to every single doctor and nurse before they were aloud to step foot in my room. 

When we went in for the reduction consultation, I left the room to call Dr. Binor. I needed to know what to do and he helped us make that decision. 

When I bled throughout the first several months of my pregnancy, Dr. Binor gave us his home phone number. He took our calls every hour of the night and gave us comfort in our times of panic. 

He spoke to every doctor, specialist, technician on our behalf. He tracked our pregnancy and celebrated the day Olivia was born. He throws birthday parties for all of his miracle babies. 

He's more than just a doctor. He's a miracle worker. He's a kind, gentle, funny human being and because of that man, we have our Olivia.

We won't be making a decision until we speak with Dr. Binor. 

Please pray. Pray as hard as you can. Keep this man in your prayers because he would do the same for you. He did for me. 

During our last consultation with Dr. Binor I told him I was afraid he was going to go somewhere or retire.  He smiled and looked me right in the eyes, "not until I get you pregnant."

Ok Dr Binor, I'm ready when you are. 

Bring. It. On.

"How's Olivia!?"

It's been two years since I've seen her and she still remembers my Olivia's name. I'm surprised, but not surprised at the same time. She cares. She genuinely cares.

Her name is Nora and she's been my nurse since the first time I started seeing Dr. Binor. She is short like myself, always has a smile on her face and an enthusiastic tone in her voice. She's rooted us on from day one and has shared our joy when there's been joy and disappointment when there's been disappointment. She's genuine and she's kind and she means a lot to me.

"She just started Kindergarten. She's getting big. Too big."

"That flew by, didn't it?"

"Too much."

We caught up and spoke about what's been going on these past couple of years.

"So, you're ready to go at it again?"

"I'm not getting any younger. Are you going to be my nurse still?"

Dr. Binor assigns one sole nurse to every case. They're all great, but Nora has been with me from the start.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Is that ok with you?"

"I just wasn't sure if you still wanted me. I think I killed your success rate."

We laughed- pitifully. She gave me the wink she always gives me and tells me it's going to work. "It" meaning IVF.

Don and I quietly waited for Dr. Binor. We haven't seen him in two years. It was time. We waited long enough and it was time to have this conversation. As nervous and as anxious as we were, our nerves left us as soon as that man walked through the door.

Dr. Binor is the type of doctor that knows his patients chart inside and out. Because our case is unique and one for the books, we have a special connection with this man. As often as we think of him, he thinks of us just as much.

We talked about what's been going on health wise these past two years. Though I don't have an official diagnosis, I have been cleared to move forward with IVF by my neurologist. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a tiny bit hesitant to try again. For one, I'm older. Two, Olivia is getting older and the thought of starting all over is a bit daunting. Three, I don't have an official diagnosis and my doctors aren't sure what a pregnancy will do to my body. It may make my symptoms worse, it may not. We just don't know.

"Go have your babies, you're not getting any younger"- is how my neurologist gave me the green light. We will continue with consultations and safe testing should I become pregnant, but the good news is I am now cleared to try again. It's been a long two years- but it was a needed break- even if I didn't have a choice.

Don and I went back to Dr. Binor when Olivia was 10 months old. We tried for two straight years. 7 embryo transfers and like my pregnancy with Olivia, those transfers brought us more heartache and drama than we ever could have imagined. Two years took a toll on me emotionally. More than I ever realized. I remember laying in my bed with my brother after our last attempt failed and he suggested I take a break- to get myself back together and to live life again. I couldn't understand why he told me to get myself back together- I was together! Or so I thought.

After that final attempt I had really lost all hope. Don or his mom would give me my injections and I would lay there crying. They had to go through so much scar tissue that the pain became unbearable. My heart hurt every day and I would coast through the day feeling numb to the bone.

As much as my medical issues have come in the way of our future, a break was necessary. I know this.

Dr. Binor talked about the month long cycle evaluation. It will consist of blood work, ultrasounds and a biopsy to rule out chronic endometritis. Once the evaluation is complete we will have a more concrete plan and move forward with the next round.

Fresh or frozen? It's always brought up when we talk. Dr. Binor is very much against any couple "banking" embryos. Why? Because they are living human embryos. Once a couple calls it quits or completes their family, they discard the embryos. I agree, I don't like the idea of banking embryos however, I've had one successful live birth and that live birth came from a fresh cycle. I've always been partial to fresh cycles. When it comes to frozen we technically have 5 embryos however, we have 3 that he believes will give us the best chance. I don't have another two years worth of trying to conceive. I have a couple tries left before closing this chapter of our lives.

"What is the success rate, for a typical patient?"

"You're not a typical patient. If you were we wouldn't be sitting here right now. It should have already worked for you."

He's right, I'm not typical. My body throws a curve ball every chance it gets.

"You've given me quite the headache. What is it about your system that is preventing this from happening?"

I've asked myself this question every single day, multiple times a day. When I can't come up with an answer I simply shout out, "what the f*ck!?"

"How is she?"

"She" meaning the one.

"She's great. She's 5 now. She just started kindergarten."

"Show me a picture."

I had my phone ready to show her off. If he wanted he could flip through all 5,395 pictures I have saved on my phone (my phone is only a year old).

"Wow, is she something. She's beautiful."

I teared up and didn't have to look to see what Don's reaction was because I saw him wiping the tears from his eyes. We are so proud of her- and we are so thankful for him.

"She was the best of the best. Really, she was the best of the best." 

We both nodded. There were four of them, but she was the strongest. They were all the best, but she is the one who made it- and at times, she really probably shouldn't have.

I always say that my Olivia is a miracle, but most people just nod and smile without really getting how much of a miracle that she really is. Dr. Binor, he gets it. 1000% he gets it.

"I want you to not cry and give this baby the best chance to make it. Every week, the chances will increase." Those are the words he told me when we had to say our goodbyes to baby A and B. She was our Baby C. She was the best chance we had- to becoming parents.

She defines "miracle". Dr. Binor gets it.

"I'm so happy to see you guys". He smiled at us and I looked down- in fear that I would really start to cry.

"We're so happy to see you. I was worried you may be close to retirement."

"I can't retire. I have to get you pregnant first." 

Genuine. This man and his staff are genuine and they love and care for their patients more than any other doctor out there.

We've been through 7 failed attempts. Whether it was a negative result, late implantation or miscarriage, we've been through the ringer.

People always ask me if I would consider seeing another doctor.

No. The answer is no. This man is the best of the best. It's not his fault that my body has failed us all. I trust him with my life and whether or not we are blessed with another child, he has brought meaning to both Don and I...because he brought us to our Olivia.

There is no other doctor for me. For us. He is the one.

I woke up this morning with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Do we? Don't we? What to do!? I went outside for a bit of fresh air when the most beautiful butterfly flew right past me. It was a sign, no doubt. In my past blog I talk about how butterflies are a symbol of my loved ones that have passed- particularly my Uncle Tommy- who was also my Godfather. I haven't seen many signs the past two years, and rarely really see any butterflies anymore. I laughed though when I saw him today. Go figure, right? He didn't stay for long- really only long enough for me to take notice. I looked his way- "it's about time, where have you been?"

So, here we go. Starting a month of evaluation with a hope to complete the next round in October. We are cautiously hopeful and we are ready.

Bring. It. On.

The start of a new journey

There's no parent handbook that tells you what to expect or how to handle certain situations. You just go through every day trying to be your best and make the right decisions for your kid(s).

I had my Olivia 5 years ago, yet it feels like just yesterday. I remember being at the store trying to find shorts that would fit so I could go to my nephew's birthday party. It was 4 days after I had Olivia. My hair was a mess, I hadn't showered in a few days and I was running on a few hours sleep....but I was in heaven. While checking out, the lady in front of me turned around and told me to take it in because it goes by way too fast. I remember thinking, "I hope not too, too fast..."

Today, my Olivia started Kindergarten. She started full day, five days a week Kindergarten.

I can't even type out that sentence without crying. As happy as I am for her (because I am), my heart hurts. I never believed in growing pains, until now. This is hard...

The end of summer break brings most moms together so they can celebrate their kids being out of the house and back in school. Not this mama! If I could I would keep her with me all day long. If my husband would let me I'd quit my job and homeschool this child. She's my little buddy, my best friend, my mini me...and she's my only. This milestone was one I've been trying to avoid. Quite simply, I'm just not ready.

Kindergarten officially closes the door to those baby years that you try so hard to hold on to. I grasped on to every single day for the past five years. I know there are more milestones to come and it's not like I just sent her to boarding school, but shit...she will be in school for the next 17 (maybe more) years. I'll never get those baby years back...and I loved every single moment of those years.

Olivia is a miracle. I mean every kid is, but Olivia really is a miracle baby. She was the baby we weren't sure we would be able to have. She was the baby they put into my arms and I thought, this is what love at first sight means. She was so easy. She still is. She slept through the night at 3 months. She never fussed. Never screamed. Has yet to throw a full blown temper tantrum in public. We get compliments that she has the best manners. She is kind. Funny. Everyone loves having a conversation with her because it's like you're talking to a little old lady. She is the definition of perfection.

I've taken thousands upon thousands of pictures of this child. We have gone above and beyond for birthdays, family vacations and every day adventures. We have always been well aware that time would go by fast...but never dreamed it would go as fast as everyone always says it does. I'm not sure we will ever be blessed to have another child, but if we can't, what I do know is that we hit the jackpot with this child. I'm proud of this little family of mine and everything that we have accomplished together. We hit this milestone out of the park...can't wait to see what's next.



To my Olivia...

If you only knew how proud we are of you. I hope this next adventure is everything and more. I hope you spread your kindness and show the world how special you really are. You're going to do great things. I can't wait to hear everything you've learned day in and day out. I hope you push yourself and step outside of your comfort zone. Meet new kids. Make new friends. Smile to everyone that walks by. When someone appears to be "different" know that different is good. When someone isn't kind to you, keep your head held high. Always be the bigger person. Kindness goes a long way and this world could use more kids like you. 

I know you were nervous about today, so was I, but know that we were so proud the moment you took that first step onto the bus. You're a big girl now. As much as I tell you to slow down and to stop getting big- here you are, beautiful as ever, going to a big girl school! 

I can't wait to continue watching you grow. Fly high kid, the opportunities are endless. Let's make the most out of this life, together. We love you to pieces my little lu. 

See you at the bus stop. 

Love,
Mom



PS- I have the best family and friends a girl could ask for. Thank you to all who called/text me this morning to check in. The tears were flowing from both Don and I...but we made it. Now, we patiently wait for our love to come home.

We couldn't have got through this morning if it weren't for my niece, Grace. Olivia and Grace are now going to the same school together, and riding the same bus together. Grace has taken it upon herself to look after our Olivia and guide her like any great big cousin would. Even though there were a few tears this morning, I know Olivia got on the bus today because of Grace. We love you Grace- and thank you for taking your "job" so serious. Here is a note Grace wrote herself before bed last night...





This picture is of two proud parents crying on their walk home...his tears this morning made me think that homeschooling could have been an option ;)




and a few more...

One more try wouldn't hurt anyone.

6 years ago I sat down with Dr. Binor and he said "your infertility will either make you or break you." I remember kind of laughing in my head thinking "well, infertility has another thing coming because I'm too strong and stubborn  to let this break me."

6 years later...it's breaking me.

When Olivia was just about 10 months old is when we started the process back up. We figured we would get a jump start on baby #2. I was nervous and hesitant because of everything we went through with our pregnancy with Olivia, but I knew that Dr. Binor was going to do everything he could to play it safe- and we really wanted another baby.

I couldn't have been more wrong. We faced disappointment after disappointment. Heartbreak after heartbreak.

Olivia turned five last month.

In my head I always give myself a cutoff. I always wanted children close in age. At first I said, when Olivia turns two is when we'll stop. Then two came and went. When Olivia turns 3, that's it. Then three came and went. When Olivia turns 4, for sure that's it. Four came and went.

Now keep in mind, due to other unknown health issues we've had to take a break from IVF- two years to be exact.

Olivia turning five was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. For one, five years old officially closes the chapter to her toddler years. I have a big girl now and that in itself just about kills me. Five is also the year she starts Kindergarten. Holy hell, how did that happen? I just toured preschools, now I'm shopping for school supplies for kindergarten!? Ugh, dagger through my heart!

Five was also the year that we were going to close the door to ever trying again. 5 years is a big age gap. They'll never go to school together. Their interests most likely will never line up. It's just not what we had planned in our heads. On Olivia's birthday I remember looking at her thinking- how is my baby no longer a baby? Why does time move so damn fast!?

Last week was a bad week for me. Just dealing with stress of the unknown has been bringing me down lately. After tucking Olivia in for bed she kept telling me she wasn't tired and that she didn't want to read her books. She told me she wanted to keep talking and asked if I could bring the phone into her room. She doesn't know how to dial the phone, but it made me chuckle wondering who she would have liked to call for a quick chat. Regardless I said no and told her to go to bed. She asked me who she could talk to and I suggested that she say a prayer. She didn't sound amused by my thought and informed me that she always says prayers and that that's boring. I kissed her head, said goodnight and told her I was going to bed. When I closed her door I heard her little voice not sounding so little anymore.

"Hi!"

For a second I thought she was calling me back into her room.

"Can I have a sister?"

My eyes filled up immediately. I wondered how many times she's asked. I wondered how many little prayers she's said on her own, without me knowing. My heart broke for her.

I was talking to a friend the other day whose kids ages are pretty spread out. I told her about my dilemma of knowing when it's time to close that chapter.

"If you could tell yourself that you tried everything and that in 20 years you won't regret not trying one more time then it's time to close that chapter."

I can honestly say that we have tried everything. We've put our whole heart into trying for another baby. Regret is a heavy thing to live with though- and it's not something I am willing to live with.

One more try wouldn't hurt anyone.

Don't.

Don't.

Don't tell me you can't imagine what it's like to struggle with infertility because you're right, you don't understand. It's struggling while suffering at the same time. Can you imagine that?

Don't tell me you feel sorry for me. I don't need pity, I need strength.

Don't tell me I'm not getting pregnant because I'm stressed. Last time I checked you don't have much of a medical background.

Don't tell me I have options and to look into adoption. You're telling me to give up and I don't take that lightly.

Don't tell me to be thankful for what's going "right" in my life. I'm well aware of what's right and I thank God every day.

Don't tell me infertility is getting the best of me. Don't mistake these tears for weakness.

Don't tell me I'm still young and time is on my side. How many more years of heartache do you think I can handle?

Don't tell me I'll be ok after having a miscarriage. I just lost a soul that I fell in love with the moment I was told I was pregnant.

Don't tell me to be happy when people announce their pregnancy. It's not about being unhappy. It's the hope that I can experience the same thing.

Don't tell me about your morning sickness, weight gain or swollen feet. I would kill to be in your shoes.

Don't tell me you were up all night thanks to your crying baby. I dream of a baby crying for me.

Don't tell me God won't give me more than I can handle. Next time you speak with him, tell him I'm about to hit my limit.

 Don't tell me "at least you have one child" when you yourself have multiple. I'd have to ask you which child of yours you can live without, and I'm not sure that's a question you're able to answer.

Don't tell me that my child doesn't need a sibling because she has cousins. A cousin isn't a sibling. I can't imagine life without one of my siblings. Is it so much to ask for my child to have the same thing in life?

Don't tell me that you understand. You don't.

Don't talk. Just listen.

Most days I have it together

Growing up if I ever said things weren't fair my parents would quickly correct me. We were always reminded as children that others had it worse off than us. We were reminded of everything that was right in the world and to appreciate the little things.

After the reduction I remember laying in bed staring at my Dad who sat by my side. He told me it was ok to cry- one of the few times he's ever said this to me. I cried as calmly as I could, not to upset the baby I was trying so hard to hold on to. I looked at my Dad and quietly whispered "this isn't fair". He nodded his head and said, "your goddamn right it's not."

My brother once told me that maybe the reason why I suffer with infertility is because I am strong enough to take it. My strength has been tested time and time again. I question the strength I still have, if any. I always think it's a little funny when people reach out to me saying they admire my strength for being an open book. It's not strength though. I talk because that's what gets me through. When women reach out asking how I do it I always say, "I don't know. I guess I just have to". And that's the truth. There's no secret in trying to achieve your dream.

Last week I had a long sit down with my Neurologist. We spoke about my upcoming Mayo trip and I told her why it's so important to me that they figure this out. It's not just about wanting to feel better, but I feel like for the past two years my life has been put on hold. I want a baby! I've been patient and I'm getting closer to hitting a wall.

She looked at my chart and said, "you're still young! The guns not to your head yet." 

"We started trying when my child was one. She's about to turn 5."

"Time is on your side. We have to get you healthy first."

"I have to have a baby. I have to. We have to get moving. I'm losing my patience."

"Don't you want to feel better?"

"I don't know what is worse some days. The heartache that comes with not being able to have a child, on your terms, it's unbearable."

"Give us time to figure this out and then you'll have your baby."

I pouted. I actually wanted to leave the appointment, but I love my doctor and I know she's right. She finished the consult by giving me a stack of tests she ordered. I am so over tests. I am tired and annoyed and just over it. She left the room and had her nurse come in to explain some of the tests to me. A few minutes later she opened the door and peeked her head in,

"I bet you're a great Mom."

"I am. I try. Thank you."

"Have a nice weekend."

The nurse asked me to go set up my next appointment and then head to the 3rd floor for some blood work. I didn't do either. I didn't feel like being poked that day and just wanted to go home.

I stood in the elevator feeling sorry for myself as a young child entered with their mother. The child was wearing a mask and looked quite ill. I initially put my head down feeling rather ashamed for the pity party I had just thrown myself. The child stood there looking at me and I told him I liked his mask. It had characters on it and seemed fitting for a child his age. He thanked me and told me he liked my shirt. I smiled.

I left the elevator and told myself that I was an asshole. I have a team of doctors trying to figure out what's going on with me and they deserve my patience. I couldn't imagine what that little boy was going through. What was his diagnosis? What appointment was he coming from? How was his mom holding up? I can't imagine and probably couldn't bear hearing the answers to the questions in my head.

It quickly brought me back to the days that I would complain to my parents about things not being fair.

Infertility is a bitch. It's cruel, heartbreaking, gut wrenching and will make a person go crazy. I do feel like it's not fair that people who struggle with infertility would make the best mothers and fathers. But I also know that there's children out there struggling to see the next day. There's people who wish they had one more day with a loved one. There's people who are on their knees begging for a little luck to come their way.

I don't have it all that bad. I tell myself this often. Some days I am guilty of feeling sorry for myself, but I'd like to think that most days I have it together- and that I'm truly thankful for the gift of the present moment.

Finding Hope

I've taken a long, much needed- not by choice- break. Our fertility journey has been put on hold for just about two years as I deal with some unknown health issues. Doctors are still unfortunately searching for answers, but in my gut I feel like we're getting closer and closer to finding a diagnosis. I go to Mayo Clinic in May and have some appointments before then so hopefully this long drawn out saga is coming to an end. Which will then bring me back to the other saga...infertility.

Taking a two year break has given me plenty of time to do some thinking. In fact, I think about it every single day. It's the first thing I think about when I wake up- and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. The unknown has taken its toll on me. Just when I think I'm getting a grip on things something will happen and I'll take ten steps back.

Around the holidays I thought I came to terms with the fact that this is it for us. We will always be a family of three. I struggled with the decision, cried privately and lost more sleep then ever before. Olivia is four, almost five and the thought of starting over is a bit daunting. I wanted children close in age. 5-6 years is a bigger age gap than I ever hoped for. In my head it just doesn't work.

How would we break the news to Olivia? How long will it take for her little broken heart to mend? Will she cry herself to sleep? Will she be jealous of other kids? Will she always wonder what it would be like to have a sibling? These are the questions I ask myself every day. I'd look for signs as a symbol that hope was still alive- that there's still a possibility, but I never saw anything. No signs. My hope was gone. I knew that one day Olivia would ask why not and that we would be able to assure that we did everything. We tried everything. We got close, so close. It just wasn't in the cards for us.

So I made my decision. No more trying. Priority is getting my health in order and never take a single day for granted with our sweet Olivia. I sat in the shower and cried my eyes out. One day I'll be able to breathe easy again. I told myself to be proud that we survived everything we've endured and that we've come out as a stronger family.

A few months came and gone and I woke up to Olivia jumping on me telling me that I had to get up...it was my birthday. She was beside herself and wanted to get to celebrating. A few minutes later she demanded that I go look out the window. Her voice was filled with excitement and she started yelling at me to go look at the birds in the backyard. She said, "Mom! There's three of them!" As soon as she said "three", I shot out of bed and walked to her playroom where I could get a good view of our backyard.

There they were. Three birds. Three different birds. Walking across the lawn together. How fitting.

You see, when our three babies died during our pregnancy with Olivia, Don & I said that birds would be our symbol for them. In Olivia's bedroom we have three birds on her wall looking over her bed. I'd like to think that they are her guardian angels. When I'm down or I need a pick me up- it seems like I always see three birds together- and they're always different birds which is fitting because our babies were not identical. Olivia doesn't know about the babies or the symbol for birds. One day we will tell her, but not until she is older.

I stood at the window and watched the birds and of course my eyes immediately welled up. It was so nice to see them- to feel them again. When I eventually made my way downstairs I looked out the window again to see them sitting on our fence looking toward the house. Don wondered if they were hurt. He said he's never seen a bird just lay there on the fence. I knew they weren't hurt- they were exactly where they needed to be and I loved every second.

Later that night I thought to myself that maybe it was a sign. 1. a sign that they're still with us and 2. a sign to not give up. Maybe those birds were the signs of hope that I have been desperately trying to find these past two years.

Last year Olivia asked for a sibling almost every other day. She stopped the past few months with only an occasional comment or two. I always tell her to ask God, but she's getting smart and a little sassy these days and she usually snaps back by saying, "I do. He doesn't listen." I can't argue with her. I feel the same way.

I try to keep Olivia busy. I try to spoil her and always take her out to try new things- or adventures as I like to call them. I try to make up for the what we can't give her. Maybe you agree with my parenting- maybe not...I don't care, but I do my best and I feel like if I keep her busy and entertained then she won't feel the void in her life.

A few nights ago I gave Olivia a bath and started to brush her hair. She has half curly, half straight hair and it's always tangled. I told her that her hair reminds me of her Aunt Taylor when I use to brush her hair when she was little. She asked me if I was Taylor's mom and I said, "Nope...she's my sister." She then asked if Aunt Carrie was our Mom and I said, "No...she's my sister." I could see her face in the mirror as she was trying to make the connection she said, "so...they're both your sisters?" I almost said no. I felt an immediate guilt, but knew I needed to answer her as her eyes were deadlocked with mine. I quietly said yes and that's when she looked at me and said "Wow...you're so lucky". I nodded my head and didn't utter a word. I know how lucky I am- which is why I struggle so much with the fact that she may not have what I have.

I was hurting pretty bad that night and the first person I text was my sister. We went back and forth a little bit and then I was off to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night (as usual) and saw that I had a text from my sister saying she loves me. Olivia needs to have that too.

I don't know what's going on with my health. I don't know if it's something that can be fixed or something that I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life. Doctors have advised that if I were to get pregnant I may end up feeling worse than I already do. My bigger concern is that it could be some hereditary- which if it is we won't try again. If it's not, and the Mayo doctors give me the green light, then Dr. Binor will be the first phone call I make.

I don't ask for much, but I'm asking that you say a little prayer. Though my faith as been tested and I've had words with the big guy upstairs, I still need all of the prayers I could get. Pray for answers and pray for my Olivia. Every kid deserves a partner in crime.

Until next time...