{5w5d}

Today, at five weeks and five days pregnant, I saw my baby.

As I sat on that paper covered cot, I couldn't keep my legs from shaking. I'd been here before, in this same room, with these same people, but it had always been to count follicles. We'd all smiled and pointed out the big black holes on the screen, documenting their rate of growth and dreaming about the future, wondering which ones would develop into healthy embryos that would become babies that I'd be holding in my arms someday.

But this time, everything was different.

After a miraculous cycle full of twist and turns, never ending surprises and heart stopping moments, I was finally looking at a single, misshapen black circle on the dark, grainy screen. And although the number of black blobs I was observing was much less then what I was used to seeing at the follicular monitoring appointments, my love for this one perfect little sac was more intense than I'd ever even felt for those countless precious follicles.

Because this was no longer a follicle holding the promise of a possible baby.

It was a developing baby.

At only five weeks and five days along it was deemed too early to worry about not being able to see the heartbeat, but we were thrilled to locate the gestational sac, yolk sac, and fetal pole that had collectively snuggled in and began to develop in the perfect uterine location. I'll never be able to explain the relief I felt at seeing the tiny little miracle that was growing inside of me, this precious little being that until this point was only visible as a second line on a pregnancy test.

But despite the intense joy that consumed me upon seeing this perfectly formed sac, I felt an unexpected surge of grief follow quickly behind. What about the other two beautiful embryos that we placed in this same spot a few weeks ago? Why am I only seeing one of them here today, where there should be three?

I realize it's normal to feel a sort of loss for the embryos that didn't survive, just all the ones before that were placed inside my womb yet never resulted in a pregnancy. I suppose I just thought it would be different this time, that my gratitude for the baby growing inside would be enough to erase the pain of the other lost embryos that will never become my children here on earth.

But it wasn't.

And in the half a millisecond that it took for these thoughts to collect in my head, we saw what can only be assumed to be a vanishing twin. Another precious sac, this time far too small and much to empty to be considered healthy and viable.

And suddenly my grief made sense as I realized that even with the ridiculously low beta numbers that we'd been given these past few weeks, I always felt in my heart that God had another miracle in store for us and we were going to have twins. I never told anyone of course, but the thought never left the back of my mind, a secret desire tucked away, waiting to emerge when the time was right.

Medically we'll never really know the truth, unless the mass continues to grow a bit and becomes more obvious for our next ultrasound, but it's more likely that my lining will envelope it and use it to grow the more developed sac instead.

I knew all along there were two miracles inside of me, thought I never spoke it out loud. And when the Dr. showed us that one perfect sac on the ultrasound, I still feel guilty as I remember my eyes wondering across the screen, searching for the second sac and fetal pole, unable to find it and contemplating why I wasn't just satisfied with the one we'd already located.

Right now, I'm pumped full of hormones. I'm pregnant, and extremely in love with our little one, but I'm still struggling with accepting it, because what I saw on the screen today became slightly more real to me, but also managed to break my heart. I was relieved to see development, but sad to see only one of them considered healthy. I was thrilled to see our baby, but scared because it's heart still isn't beating. Thankful for the almost guaranteed simplicity of carrying a single baby to term, but disappointed to miss out on the drama and excitement of multiples.

As an infertile, I'm still having trouble recognising that I'm pregnant. Rising betas, middle of the day positive pregnancy tests and declined spotting may never be enough to ease my mind after almost four years of battling with my body to reproduce. I feel like there's always another milestone to hit, always one more step to reach before I'm safe, and I won't be able to breath until I hear a fluttering heartbeat, because my my infertile past instills fear and holds me back from celebrating every completed step to the best of my ability.

I suppose this is something I will always struggle with, a pile of baggage I'll always carry around, fight with, and attempt to conquer.

But while infertility has managed to scar me, it's still not enough to completely strip me of the hope and joy that emerges when I place my hand on my stomach and know that there is life growing inside me, weather I can feel it or not. It's time to start practicing the faith and patience that God's been teaching me over the past few years, using it to calm my heart and continue to pray to Him for wisdom and guidance throughout this new journey.

I'm sad for our other baby that didn't make it-and the other embryos that have been lost over the last year-but I'm still amazed and in awe of God and how He's managed to create life in me despite this long, broken road. I'm growing more and more excited about the months ahead, and slowly allowing myself to open up to the realization that I could be holding my very own child in my arms next spring.

It's been a long three and a half years, and it still doesn't quite feel real.

But this time, it is.

"God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you."

-Rascal Flatts

{5w0d}

And I thought getting pregnant was supposed to be the hardest part.

Today, the calender tells me I am five weeks pregnant. I've been waiting literally for years to get here, but now that we've been blessed with this crazy roller coaster of a pregnancy, I'm more anxious than ever.

I wake up every morning and grab my chest, just to see if it's sore. Some days it's more sensitive than others, but I'm never happy unless my touch is accompanied by a bruised-like sensation. Then I run to the bathroom, checking for any sort of spotting so I can categorized the color as dark yellow, brown, pink, red, or a mixture of them all, followed by a quick pregnancy test, and the realization that I sort of wish I was a boy.

Because my husband has no fear of colored bodily fluids.

And no uterus to over analyze.

On Wednesday, I woke up to a little pink spotting and some very tiny, almost invisible clots of red. They were so minuscule, I almost thought I'd imagined them, but I still emailed my nurse in a panic, requesting one more beta lab slip just in case. Understanding how I operate-and still feeling horrible about our second beta mix up I'm sure-she obliged and sent me our fourth and final beta request which I printed out and drove down to the lab to immediately fulfill.

314.

My beta's are still more than doubling. I know it's normal for most girls to spot a rainbow of colors during the first few weeks of pregnancy. And I understand that every little twinge I feel in my uterus, every morning I wake up and realize my chest is less sore than it was yesterday, and every time I see a tiny bit of pink in my underwear does not mean this pregnancy is necessarily over.

So why can't I just feel relief? Why am I more anxious today then I was last week when thought I had already experienced a chemical pregnancy? Why are high rising beta numbers not enough to ease my mind? Why do I feel the constant need to remind everyone who knows about this pregnancy that my betas are low and it may not last, as if I'm preparing them-and myself-for bad news?

Because I over analyze, and I know way too much. Because I've seen and heard more sad than happy stories from low beta numbers like mine, more than doubling or not. Because I know that spotting is never good, no matter the shade.

And because google is the devil.

No joke.

I'm incredibly frustrated with myself, because I know the real deal is that I'm experiencing a lack of faith. I'm ashamed to have had God show me so many amazing feet's in the past few months, yet I still question Him-and my situation-even when all signs are pointing to something worth celebrating. I almost feel like He'll end up punishing me for my unbelief in His ability to provide even more miracles instead of just trusting Him to have His way.

I do trust Him, I do know that God is powerful and omnipresent and capable of taking these low numbers and turning them into triplets. I know that He is watching over us and He has a great big plan for our lives. I know He can take this spotting, these low betas, and show the world His glory and power through this pregnancy.

But I also know that He may not choose to do that.

Fittingly, I'm reading through the book of Job right now, and I cringe as a follow the story of a faithful and righteous man who was robbed of his family, his riches, and his health yet still chose to follow the Lord and never once became angry with God or his situation. God allowed satan to utterly destroy Job's life, just to prove that Job would remain faithful; to show us all that it's possible to glorify God even in the worst of situations, leaving us no excuse to shake our fists at God when we get scared or angry.

I'm certainly not as faithful and righteous as Job was, but I can't help but compare myself to the possibility of his situation. No, God hasn't stripped me of my friends, family, earthly possessions or my health, but at times I feel so close to loosing the one thing I've wanted for years, and it terrifies me.

Although I haven't finished reading the chapter yet, I've read it before and I know how the story ends. After Job proves himself, continuing to praise God despite all he's endured, God restores all he had to start with, and then some.

I know that right now, I should spend more of my time praising God than worrying about what could happen with this pregnancy. I know I should be excited and hopeful, instead of leery and fearful. I should think freely about the possibility of holding a child in my arms this coming April, instead of the possibility of seeing nothing on our first ultra sound next Wednesday.

Right now my body is pregnant, but my head and heart still feel infertile, and it's a nasty place to be.

I understand that it's in my nature to worry, and that with low beta numbers that are still more than doubling-but slightly slowing down-coupled with random spotting, most girls in my situation would be feeling the very same things right now.

But I want more.

I want to celebrate and embrace this pregnancy. I want to wake up every morning and thank God for this gift, this enormous blessing, instead of fretting over symptoms and bodily secretions. I want to get crazy excited over a positive pregnancy test, instead of analyzing the darkness of the line or how fast it showed up as compared to the previous days test. I want to find that balance between being cautiously optimistic and ridiculously giddy, because we've waited so very long to get here.

I want to spend more time in prayer, and less time in fear.

Next Wednesday, I'll be five weeks and five days pregnant at our first ultra sound, and I'm anticipating seeing at least an appropriately sized gestational sac, yolk sac and a fetal pole at that time, since they should be visible between five and six weeks. By then, we'll know if this pregnancy is progressing as it should.

Some days are harder than others, and I've been told that it never really gets any easier. As the pregnancy progresses and each new milestone is crossed off, another rises and you hit a whole new level of anticipation. I also suspect this fear only increases once that precious child is birthed and placed in your arms, as your permanent responsibility for the rest of your life.

So I figure if I can't beat it, I may as well embrace it.

Today, I am a mother of a five week old fetus. My chest is sore to the touch, my beta levels are rising beautifully, my home pregnancy tests are turning positive for the first time in my life, and I've got more people praying for this tiny little blessing than I even know what to do with.

Last night, after our family pictures were over and everyone else had left, my husband and I stayed behind to capture a few shots of us holding our positive pregnancy test; which is something I've had my heart set on since two years ago. I already have a donated jogging stroller sitting in my garage, and I even know what brand of cloth diapers I want to use.

Despite my uncontrolled fear, it seems that God is right in the midst of making my dreams come true. It's way past time for me to bow out gracefully and let Him take it from here, trusting that He has this under control.

Because He certainly doesn't need my help.

Just my gratitude.

"Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow."

-Author Unkown

One More Miracle

God works in mysterious ways that I may never understand.

Wonderful, miraculous, unexplainable ways.

This morning, I woke up and decided it was time to clean up all of our IVF things. As I readied myself for work, I took the time to place our embryo pictures back in the drawer, shove the rest of the meds and needles into the closet, and even pulled out my thank you cards to send out to everyone who prayed fervently for us.

I spoke with God on the way to work, asking Him to continue to give us the grace and strength to move on, and to guide our next steps and give us wisdom as we continued on to our FET cycle. And as I sat at my desk a little while later, I began to make a list of all the questions I needed to convert into an email to send to Dr. Greene, seeking as many answers as possible to ease our mind about this chemical pregnancy and everything surrounding it.

Because that's the only way I know how to deal, OCD style.

But before I could transfer my sticky notepad full of scribbled words into a full email, my phone rang. It was SIRM, presumably calling me to set up a phone consult concerning the FET, and saving me the trouble of constructing an extremely long email that would probably have frustrated me anyway and brought up tears that still hadn't found their way out yet.

But my assumptions were wrong. The nurse wasn't calling me to set up a phone consult, she was calling to tell me that the lab had left a message on her phone explaining how they had messed up our second beta results on Saturday and were going to have to run them again, just in case.

And before I could stop it, hope crept in.

Then it faded just as quickly as it appeared as I realized I had already began spotting heavily, an I knew the original negative beta just had to be correct. Besides that, I was just mentally and physically exhausted, and had finally found peace with this chemical pregnancy. I was grateful to have been pregnant, thankful for the opportunity, but so incredibly ready to just move forward and see what God had in store for us next.

Little did I know that what God had in store for us next was yet another miracle.

37.

My beta was in fact not negative on Saturday, it had more than doubled-it had tripled-and then some. But as the excitement hit, so did the fear, born mostly from the realization that I'd been starving my body of the necessary hormones and medication that was so vital during this stage of and IVF pregnancy for the last forty-eight hours. Was my current spotting a result of a possible chemical pregnancy-again-or the result of a lack of PIO shots? I was in fact pregnant on Saturday, but was I sill pregnant today? And although thirty seven was a tripled number, wasn't it still low for a beta at fifteen days past ovulation?

I had to stop myself before I went crazy, and instead soak up the fact that God had shown favor on us, and was blessing us with this new possibility. And if this new life that was still growing in me on Saturday was in His will, there was no stopping it; the lack of medicine, major spotting, or any other obstacle would never get in the way of His plan coming to pass.

Within minutes I was faxed over another lab slip for a beta blood draw and had rushed over to the nearest LabCorp to end this madness once and for all. Then I had my father stop by my house to pick up my bag of meds that had been shoved in the closet, and had my mother come to give me a much needed PIO shot after I quickly applied estrogen patches, praying I hadn't done any damage to the unborn life that could very well still be growing inside of me.

And just a few short hours and a million prayers later, we were given our third beta number.

114.

I was told not to stress over the spotting, continue with my meds and wait for an email tomorrow that would schedule my first ultrasound. And even though it made me nervous, the nurse told me I also wouldn't be needing any more betas, the tripling numbers were enough for information for them.

It was all so surreal; like I was on the outside looking in. I suppose I'd feel the same way if someone told me that I had just won a million dollars after filling for bankruptcy. This morning, I was coping with a chemical pregnancy that I had finally come to accept, but this afternoon I was rejoicing for the blessing still growing inside of me.

And God had this planned all along.

He knew they would mess up my beta and give us the negative results when our real number had in fact tripled, and He knew we would be devastated. But maybe He was waiting to see how we'd react after receiving the news. Maybe it was all just a test that He was giving us, one to teach us even more patience and endurance to prepare us for difficult times that may lie ahead.

Either way, I wouldn't change a single second of the last forty-eight hours.

I hope that God continues to grow this life inside, and that our story will bring hope and peace to so many others out there that are struggling with infertility, loss, or any other trial and tribulation that life brings. We serve an awesome God who is capable of anything, and He's shown us today that He truly has no limits, He hears our prayers, He is faithful, merciful, and still just as capable of miracles today as He was over a thousand years ago.

We are still cautiously optimistic and will continue to be until we see a healthy heartbeat or two on that fuzzy black screen that has only brought us pictures of growing follicles and plump linings in the past, because we know that although we've experienced a true miracle today, God may not choose to allow this pregnancy to continue. He may have already proven Himself and shown us His power and glory, and it may not be in His will for this blessing to continue.

But no matter what happens, we will still praise Him, giving Him all the glory. Because it wasn't the acupuncture, the medicine, the yoga or the doctors that made this possible; they were merely tools He used to bring this to pass. God heard the prayers we've all been sending up for the last three and a half years, and He chose to answer them in His time, not ours.

And as always, His timing is perfect, His ways are perfect.

I can feel God working, and I suspect He hasn't shown us everything quite yet. I'm still trying to grasp the full effect of what has taken place here today, ashamed to be so amazed by what He's done for us when I knew He was capable of this all along. I feel humbled to be a part of this experience, and I'm so excited to start this new journey and to continue glorify Him for the many more miracles that He has in store for us and for this new life; waiting and watching for Him to continue to blow us away.

I'm so unworthy of this gift. So undeserving of this latest miracle. So in awe of God and how He continues to work in my life despite my stubborn, selfish ways, choosing to show His power and glory through my very own broken story in a way that can only be described as miraculous.

Thank you God, for this precious gift.

"I say to my child, I will explain to you as much of life as I can, but you must remember that there is a part of life for which you are the explanation."

-Robert Brault