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.