We tried everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We're family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smile while wiping tears from my face. 

"How have you been?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

"It's breaking me."

"I know."

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

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

"What would you tell her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where's my picture?"

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

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

I smiled while proudly showing her off. 

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

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

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

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

One foot in front of the other

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

Not so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's putting it mildly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Picking up the pieces

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heartbroken

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

6 weeks, 5 days.

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

On Thursday, January 18 I suffered a miscarriage.

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

"Listen to this, Courtney"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In walks the doctor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby Steps

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

We won.

On January 2nd we got our positive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby steps.

And now we wait...

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, let's."

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

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

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

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

"Ready." 

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

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

"Ready."

"Courtney, are you ready?"

"Yep."

"Dr. Binor, are you ready?"

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

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

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

I can't help but tear up. 

"Here you go Courtney, here they coooommmmmeeee!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

Welcome to the world sweet boy...

I got her text at 4:45am that it was time. I didn't hesitate. Jumped out of bed, threw something on, grabbed my camera and out I went.

She's prepped, she's planned, hoped and prayed- and her time had finally come.

My little sister is a Mom.

I truly believe that the greatest gift in life is being able to parent a child. No amount of money in the bank, no fancy job or extravagant vacation will ever live up to that feeling you get when you've been blessed with such a sweet innocent soul.

Taylor had asked that I be in the delivery room with her and Matt. I was there to take pictures of their new little family, She had done the same for me- so it felt right. Her labor was long, heart wrenching and a tad dramatic, but she was a warrior and I couldn't be any prouder. Being able to witness the birth of your nephew is special. But being able to witness a little family being united is...priceless.

I took pictures the best I could, but then I took a little step back and watched as the three of them bonded.

I witnessed my sister becoming a Mom. I watched her fall in love the way only a Mom knows how. I watched her lose her breath at the very first sight of this handsome little boy. And I watched her whisper her first words to her new little man, "I've been waiting for you"...

The day was long and exhaustion was felt by every person in the room, but man...how it's all worth it.

Taylor and Matt...you hoped, you prayed, you wished and everything came true. He is perfect. Just perfect.

My advice to the both of you is to take in every moment. I know that's everyone's advice, but really. Take a million pictures. Kiss him a hundred times a day. Tell him you love him even at the hardest of times. Be best friends. You've just been blessed with a gift that not everyone is able to be blessed with. Never take for granted the gift of being a parent- I know you won't.

Welcome to the world Jackson Matthew Lee. You are loved. So loved.

What a wonderful life.

Who ever said wishing on stars really works?

I haven't slept good the past couple of nights. Not that I've ever slept through the night, but I've tossed and turned more than usual due to the constant race my mind has been running.

This shit is hard to take.

Olivia has been asking for a sibling more and more lately. I usually am able to change the subject or tell her to pray every night and ask God for a sibling, but lately she has been pretty demanding and less understanding.

Have hope. I tell her to have hope, but really I am the biggest hypocrite because I lost hope a long time ago.

I picked her up from my sisters house the other day and during our usual "how was your day" routine she sadly said, "I don't have anyone."

Deep breath. I knew where this was going.

I assured her that she had Mommy and Daddy, but she then went on to explain that she doesn't have any "kids".

"I don't have a brother or sister. I don't have anyone. I want a brother or sister."

She told me that she wanted what her cousins have. She said she wants to have a brother or sister to play with and that God isn't listening to what she wants.

I thought- you're right, he's not listening.

I told her to keep praying and to wish on a star and that maybe one day it will come true.

"Wishing on stars doesn't work."

"Sure it does! I wish on stars."

"Your wishes don't come true."

She's smart. So smart that its hard arguing with her. I asked her if she was sad and that's when the conversation broke my heart...

"I'm angry. And I'm so sad."

My kid has been sad and no doubt she will be sad a million more times, but I've never heard her say that she's angry. The worst part is that she is angry and hurt over something that I can't fix...and that kills me.

People always say "oh she'll be fine!" or "she has her cousins- she'll be fine!"

If we don't have another child there is no doubt that she will be "fine". I will make sure of it. But that doesn't mean she won't hurt or that she won't miss out. She is four years old and she can feel the void that we prayed she would never have to feel. Do you know how much that sucks? I feel like a failure. I feel that I am failing her every time she has to play by herself because she doesn't have a brother or sister to play with. I feel terrible that she's upstairs as we speak playing with her imaginary "princess sister". I felt terrible when the lady at American Girl Doll asked her if she was an only child. I hate labels- and "only child" is not something I strived for for my little girl. I panic when thinking that she won't have a sister standing beside her when she gets married. I'm throwing my little sister a baby shower and I always wonder- who will throw Olivia's? What if I'm not here? Who will she have when she's older and Christmas comes around the corner?

My heart breaks that she doesn't believe it will ever happen and unfortunately I can't promise her something that I'm not sure we can deliver on. It fucking sucks.

I spoil her. There's no doubt. I went down to a 4 day work week to make sure that one day out of the week was special for her and I. That one day means more to me then you'll ever know. I take her on an "adventure" every week and spend more money than I probably should, but I do it because I'll do anything I can to make her feel special.

Giving her a sibling should be an easy request- at least you'd think. I HATE that we struggle so much and I HATE that our struggle is now affecting her.

I'm at the point in my life where I need closure. We started back up with IVF right before Olivia turned one. She is now 4 years old. This saga has gone on long enough. My health concerns have held me up for over a year and I can't even begin to guess as to when we will get the green light to try again. I'm tired. I'm bitter. I'm sad and I'm angry. I think and I think and I think and I think. I pull the plug on trying and then get sucked back in two minutes later. I've rehearsed the conversation I will need to have with Olivia should a sibling not be in the cards. It's a conversation I dread, but... how much longer can this go on for?

I toss and I turn because it's hard to sleep through the night when your heart hurts so much...

Who ever said that wishing on stars really works?

So much hate...

The amount of hate in this country is overwhelming. It's scary and it's dangerous. People watch the news and automatically place guilt before knowing the facts. It's an uneducated decision to do so. Social media and biased news outlets have put lives at risk.

Yesterday I woke up to another white police on black shooting. Second day in a row. I thought shit. Here we go. Guilty or not I don't know. I wasn't there. I can't shout out support to the police officer nor can I support the man who got shot. I simply wasn't there. All I could do was pray that this country would sit quietly and let justice prevail. Let the details come out and guilty or not, we have a system in place that will handle the situation.

Last night I went to bed watching CNN. The tune quickly changed from police officers being unqualified, uneducated and dangerous personnel...to shots fired in Dallas. A couple officers down. Celebrities went from hashtagging blacklivesmatter to- oh wait! Blue lives matter too! It went from hate the police to pray for the police.

The news made me nauseous. I went to sleep praying that it would only be two cops and hopefully not with life threatening injuries. But then I woke up this morning to...

11 OFFICERS SHOT. 5 DEAD.

My God...

Are those 11 lives now enough to support the police?

Listen, there are bad eggs in every profession and in all communities. You have teachers raping students, priests touching children, parents killing their own children, gang members shooting 4 year olds, corrupt bankers destroying people financially, lying/cheating government officials. In every profession there's going to be an unqualified asshole who leaves a bad name for the job. Cops aren't perfect either. But most do their best. And we need them!

If you've been sitting there judging police officers these past few days then I challenge you to make a career change. If you can do it better then please do. If you have the courage and strength to put youf life on the line for the low, low price- then please, take on my challenge.

My husband is a police officer. Trust me when I say that I wish he wasn't. But he is a good guy. He puts his uniform on every single day without a single complaint. He chooses to walk out of our home to protect and save lives when there is zero respect for police officers.When he and his coworkers go to calls they are greeted with cell phones in the air videotaping every move they make. Waiting and wishing for someone to screw up. I go to bed every night and pray for the safety of every police officer and armed force. I pray because they need every prayer they can get.

I don't want my husband to put his life on the line to protect people who don't have an appreciation for life. I don't fine those people to be worth the sacrifice my husband or any other officer makes. Way back when, if you were a police officer you were a hero. Today, if you're a police officer you're a target. And that is shameful. We have government officials in this country who have gone public in saying they don't support law enforcement. We have celebrities who bash law enforcement with a "simple tweet" to the millions who follow. The same celebrities who use law enforcement for their own personal security.

We need police officers. Do we understand that these men and women who CHOOSE to be a police officer made that CHOICE? Do we understand that these men and women CHOOSE to save lives? Do we understand that these men and women CHOOSE to put their lives at risk? Do we understand that these men and women CHOOSE to miss holidays and celebrations with their families. This is a CHOICE. We cannot force men and women to become police officers. We cannot force people to choose this profession.

Every time a law enforcement official is caught in the spotlight there is an uproar. It's nasty and often gets out of control. Every news outlet covers the ruckus for days which creates even more animosity and unnecessary chaos. Oh, did you hear about the 4 year old boy who was shot while playing outside in Chicago? A couple months ago another toddler was shot in the head while riding in the back seat of her aunts car. Oh, just last week a Mom killed her 4 kids- stabbed them to death. Oh did you hear about that father that killed his kid who had a disability? How about the number of parents who accidentally "forget" their kid in a hot car- those incidences seem to be rising year after year. Where are those protests? Why aren't we protesting the safety of our children? Why aren't we demanding to get guns off the street?

Protests never go silent. People often shout "F the police"- "Police are pigs". You see people spitting in officers faces- throwing bottles and bricks at them, giving them the finger and yelling every profanity you can imagine. Businesses have been burned down and cars and homes have been vandalized."Peaceful protests" have become an internal war zone. Who are these people? They can't be human. They are filled with so much hate and disgust. Where are there parents? How were they raised? They are a piss poor example of being an American citizen.

The black lives matter hash tag angers me. We're all Americans. We all should want the same things. All lives matter. Black, white, gay, straight, male, female. What year is this!?!? Why have we taken hundreds of steps back? Why is it that the only time this country comes together is when there is an attack against our country. We all drive down the same roads, eat at the same restaurants, shop at the same stores. Every single person in this country has the same exact right as their next door neighbor. If you don't agree then you have the freedom to find a new home.

11 OFFICERS SHOT. 5 DEAD. I shake my head with disgust. Those 11 are real people. They have families just like you and I.

There are shootings every single day. White on white. Black on black. White on black. Man on Man. Female on Female. Husband on wife. Mom on children. Every which way. Its overwhelming. And I'm tired of it.

How do I explain the ugliness to my daughter? When her bubble bursts and she grows up knowing there is so much evil in this world, how do I explain that?

Our biggest problem use to be finding a cure for cancer. Now we think twice before entering a movie theater, going to a club, enjoying a meal at a restaurant, dropping our kids off at school or going to church. Last year we attended my daughters preschool orientation. I was uneasy with the whole idea of school. Crazy, right? At the end of the orientation they asked if any of the parents had any questions. My husband raised his hand and when called on he asked if the windows and doors in the school are bulletproof. You could hear a few gasps and eyes widened with such curiosity as to why he asked the question. As silence began to build we sat and waited for the answer. "I don't know." My husband explained that he assumed they would be since it was a newer school and since today's reality should require all schools to have some sort of protection. Besides, tornado drills have now been replaced with active shooter drills- even in preschool.

Our problems just aren't with race, religion, profession. We have a list of messed up problems. I don't know what the answer is. I wouldn't know where to begin. But I do know that we are moving quickly in a downward spiral and I am scared.

It use to be America the Beautiful. Its unfortunate, but America has slowly been losing the beauty that so many other countries strive for.

My heart is broken by all of the hate. I pray for better. You should too.

Finding time to celebrate others...

When things don't go your way- you still find it in your heart to celebrate others.

My little sister is pregnant.

I know, you're probably thinking- EEK! 
You're probably thinking I lost my mind.

I didn't. Not exactly. I cried and felt sorry for myself for about an hour- but I moved on- and yes, I am genuinely happy for her.

A couple weeks ago I threw her a gender reveal party. I think people thought I would have struggled doing so, but I didn't. And here's why...

I have come to terms with the fact that we may not have another child. Well, I have come to terms with the THOUGHT that we may not have another child. That THOUGHT has become very real in my mind. I've had conversations, to myself- quite often lately. Time is ticking. It's a constant tick that I hear every second of every.single.day. The struggle is starting to lessen.

I have accepted that our future is out of my hands. It has taken me several years to come to accept this. I have accepted the fact that no matter how hard we try, pray, wish and dream- another child may not be meant to be.

Our July IVF has been pushed back.

The medical issues I have been dealing with this past year is still ongoing and my Neurologist has asked that I be patient and hold off on July. I finally have a team of doctors who might be on to something so instead of playing doctor for myself- we will hold off another month. This obviously came with a lot of disappointment, but it's important that I don't put myself or a baby at risk.

A couple days after getting the call from my Neuro- I threw my sister her reveal party. I think if it were anyone else I would be a crabby, jealous mess. But my sister has been there with me through all of the pain I've endured the past 6 years. It is only right that I celebrate the joy she shared with me when I was pregnant with Olivia.

Things haven't exactly been going my way. I could be bitter- and sometimes I am. But it feels good to jump on the happy bandwagon and go with the flow. Sometimes you have to put on your big girl pants, take a deep breath- and go about your day. I was honored to be able to do this for my sister and her husband and I hope they know how happy my family is for them.

Oh, and by the way. My nephew will be here by November 1.



Congratulations Taylor & Matt!