Heartbreak 2.0

I can't even begin to tell you how many blog posts I have written in my head the past 6 weeks but never gotten around to actually writing. The biggest reason of which is that I have been too afraid. We have been so secretive about our FETs this past year, and I have opened this blog up to so many people in my life- I guess I just wasn't ready to share yet. But now it's becoming too much and I am finding myself feeling more lost than I did the first time around, and I realize how desperately I need to stop trying to keep it all in.

Infertility 2.0 was supposed to be easier, less painful and traumatic somehow. We have already endured the years of trying on our own, the tedium of temping, the anxiety of testing & diagnosis, the marathon of IVF, the hell of miscarriage and finally the joy of successful FET. We knew what to expect. We knew the problems and how to treat them. There was no reason this shouldn't work. No reason this time shouldn't have been smoother, simpler than than the first. Oh how very wrong we were. 

In 2013, we had 3 failed FET cycles. With the 5 embryos lost to these failures added to the 3 that didn't make it the first time around, that puts the viability of my embryos so far at 1 in 9- far below the 1 in 3 my RE predicted based on my age, hormone levels and our combined egg/sperm quality. 5 transfers, 9 embryos, one child- I am beating the odds in a terrible way. And I was not at all prepared for this or for how it would affect me. 

When we started infertility treatment 2.0 this past summer, I not only felt fairly confident we would have an easier time achieving success, but that if for some reason we didn't I would be more ok with everything than I was the first time. I think I even said so on my blog. After all, I wasn't a mom last time and now I am. Who cares if I have one baby or two? I'm a mom when I wasn't before and the headcount of my household doesn't change that fact. Which is still true, of course. In so many ways it is not as painful, it doesn't cut the same way the fight for motherhood did. But it still hurts and cuts in new ways I never saw coming. 

My body has now failed me more than it had in 2010 when we were going through IVF/FET. Then, I just couldn't get pregnant without help but after the hormones and the procedures, my body did a pretty good job of behaving as it should. I felt damaged for sure, but I didn't feel quite as broken as I do now. Today, I met with my RE and discussed the possibility that fluid in my fallopian tubes may be creating a toxic womb environment and destroying what would otherwise be healthy, viable embryos. The thought that my own body is responsible for literally killing my embryos is soul crushing. 

How do I maintain a healthy self-esteem when my own body is so broken and dysfunctional? How do I stave off the despair, self-blame and depression that comes from infertility when I think about my own body actually poisoning my attempts to further build my family? How do I control my anger when I realize that we have spent thousands of dollars, I have forced myself through hundreds of injections, and we have tolerated months of anxiety, false hopes and heartbreak all with absolutely nothing to show for it? How do I hold back the flood of tears when my daughter comes running into the room to show me that she has been practicing her sign language so she can teach it to the baby brother or sister she keeps begging me for? How do I manage the guilt and shame at letting all of this hurt so much when I know I am lucky to have such an amazing child, even if she is my only one? Infertility as once again made me feel like a failure, this time as a woman, a wife, an advocate and a mother. I just wasn't prepared for all the new ways my heart would break when we set back out on this road. 

Another One Bites the Dust

Writing and blogging really is such a cathartic way to deal with everything that happens in life, and I don't know why I don't make more time to do it. Mostly, just the regular excuses about being busy and distracted I guess. I mean, yeah I actually am busy and I do get distracted but I should make more quality time for myself. Especially now. 

After September's chemical pregnancy, I realized how very much I want to have another child so Chad and I plunged straight into another cycle. I was already in the habit of nightly injections, so might as well keep them going. And yeah that cycle ended badly, but this next one was sure to work, right? I won't keep you in suspense, the answer is no. Today was beta and my official BFN. 

Not that it was a shock. I poas'd earlier this weekend knowing Chad was leaving town for work today, and neither of us wanted to be apart immediately after getting the results, so we decided it was better to find out sooner rather than later. Both our hopes were much higher than either us had confessed though, so seeing that single, lonely line Saturday afternoon was crushing to say the least. Still, I don't regret it. Testing early didn't change the outcome and it gave us both time together to process. What knowing didn't change is that it still hurt like hell hearing the nurse say the word "negative" on the phone this morning. I knew that's what she would say. I was fully prepared for it. So why did it still sting? Why does infertility continue to find new ways to make me hurt? 

When I became a mom after so much pain and heartbreak, I knew that trying again one day would be hard, but I also knew it would never hurt that same way again. It would never be as raw and intense as the pain of having empty arms. When we finally started our FETs for baby #2, I was confident that I knew what to expect, that I wouldn't be surprised by pain like I had been in the past. But here I am shocked by all of the unexpected ways infertility wracked my emotions yet again. I was still right that it isn't as extreme of a pain as I endured before motherhood, but it is still pain nonetheless, and it still tears at all of my old wounds even as it rips open new ones.

This is my first IVF/FET cycle in which no implantation at all took place. Granted I've only had one child, but I have had 3 "pregnancies". I haven't stared down a straightforward BFN, with no confusing betas or possible positives since my clomid days 4 years ago. And while this complete failure is making me question whether I could have done anything different to get a better outcome, it has also verified a long held suspicion that even though a BFN hurts like hell, it isn't as unbearable as thinking I might actually be getting what I want and having it cruelly ripped away from me. So I guess I have that as a silver lining this cycle? Yeah I am not pregnant, but at least I never was? Honestly, when you are facing this heartbreak, you have to take what you can get when it comes to finding the good in it. And as pessimistic as I sound there is some good. Or at least some hope, anyway. We are very lucky in that we still have frozen embryos left so we can keep trying without having to worry about the time and expense of a fresh IVF cycle. Although, after two failed cycles, we seem to be investing quite a bit of time and money after all.

But back to the hope. As negative and angry as I feel at the moment, I know hope is still there. It isn't over and there is still a good chance that this will work in the end. Although, if I am being honest, I am not really certain of my belief that it will work, and in fact, I am kind of terrified that it won't. I am already crushed that my so many of my family dreams have had to be re-written or let go of altogether, I am just not ready to let go of this one yet. So for now, I am not going to. Thanks to travel and holiday schedules we won't be able to transfer again until next year, which kills me, but hopefully I can use this time off to relax and recharge before subjecting myself to hundreds more needles. I can only hope that the new year brings realized dreams along with it. 

Hope & Loss

Yesterday was October 15, or as it is known in the infertility and loss communities- Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Each year on this day for quite a few years now, I have stopped to honor each of the parents that have faced the heartbreak of saying goodbye too soon. All over the world, fellow miscarriage, ectopic and infant loss sufferers send messages of support, light candles and remember the babies that live on in our hearts, despite us being unable to hold them in our arms. We say their names out loud, we share our stories with others, we mourn the lives we'll never know. It is simultaneously, a difficult and uplifting day. Every year, I am saddened by how many new members have joined the wretched & hellish world of loss but I am also awed and inspired by how many new supporters I discover. Each year there is a little bit less stigma, a tad less awkwardness and lot more love. It is amazing to witness in real time the growth that happens within society as a whole the more we talk about the realities of loss. And the reality is that it can and does happen to anyone. With an estimated 1 in 4 pregnancies ending is miscarriage or other loss, it is crucial that we are able to speak about these losses and the feelings that come with them. 

It has been three years since my first miscarriage when Chad and I said goodbye to the dreams we had for our Sprout. My heart still can't help but wonder sometimes what life would have been like if that pregnancy hadn't ended in heartbreak. And now that my "Big Fat Maybe" is officially a Big Fat Chemical Pregnancy, I am already wondering what could have been if that embryo had continued growing instead of resulting in an early miscarriage. I probably will always wonder a bit about both of those pregnancies, about what could have been and I will always have cracks in my heart as result. 

Those few hours of blissful hope after my positive home pregnancy test last month and then the devastation I felt once I learned the pregnancy wouldn't last, opened my eyes to how deeply I actually do want a second child. I have spent nearly three years shielding my heart and mind from believing it mattered to me as much it actually does. And seeing how much it also matters to Chad and Eliana, I can't help but dive back in, despite my earlier fears that I would need a much longer break before trying again. Granted, the actual transfer is still a little ways away, so there's still time to change my mind (and I have definitely already considered it) but for now I am moving forward to FET #3 with hope that this cycle will result in a much happier outcome.

And although October 15 is just one day and that day has come and gone this year, I will continue to honor the memories of all the little ones gone far too soon. The names of so many precious children are etched in my heart and I will carry them with me always. Ayla, Juliet, Thomas, Bayli, Rudyard, Desmond, Oscar, Audrey, Logan, Brody, Wyatt, Sophia, Caydence, TT and all the others we have lost- you are cherished, remembered and missed.

Big Fat Maybe

Today was the big day: Beta day. Oh how I dread beta day! The agony of waiting for that damn phone to ring after my blood has been drawn is one of the big reasons I kept putting of this FET. The day started out hopeful-ish. I went in for my blood draw early and was assured of a call before lunch. I have always waited for that call with my past cycles. I never poas (pee on a stick). Ever. I used to do pregnancy tests at home all the time back in my temping, charting, clomid days. I would squint and tilt and take photos so I could change the light & tint until I maybe saw a ghost of a second line. In reality, those sticks were always pure, stark white minus that one cruel line. And because it "could still be early", I would never truly lose hope until AF arrived and left me crying on my bathroom floor. It was a hell of a roller coaster and I have been terrified of it ever since I moved on to IVF so I always waited for beta. Until today. 

Chad and I have both been so pessimistic, so afraid to even entertain the idea that this FET might really work that we agreed we wanted to find out together and on our terms. If it was negative, fine, but at least we'd be expecting it when the phone rang. So we left the RE's office & rushed to buy tests. I was too scared to look, so at first I just glanced out of the corner of my eye. One line. There was one line. But it had only been 30 seconds. So we both looked again and slowly a 2nd line was coming into view. It wasn't dark but it was clearly visible. No squinting, tilting or altering required! A second line! It was really happening! We were relieved and ready for the phone to ring. We didn't want to get too ahead of ourselves before we heard the numbers. But the call never came. Lunch came & went and the phone didn't ring. I've learned that clinic staff delays making "bad news" calls. They call their good news patients early. It only took 2 hours from blood draw to phone call when I got pregnant with Eliana. 1st beta- 737. Today, six hours had passed so finally I got sick of waiting and called them. The nurse did not sound cheerful or excited. She started with "congrats" but in a way that sounded like it had a question mark at the end of it. Then she told me my beta was 17. One freaking seven. My hope has plummeted to nearly zero. Either this is a chemical pregnancy/early miscarriage or the hCG booster I did last Monday still hasn't totally left my system. I have another beta on Thursday to see if my beta changes at all and yeah there is that small sliver of a chance that by some miracle it will shoot up but I'm not counting on it. 

Honestly, it sounds awful, but I'm mostly hoping for a big drop. If this FET isn't the one, I just want to know. I don't want to ride the beta roller coaster again. Back in 2010 when I did my fresh IVF, my emotions were yanked in every possible direction with betas that rose but didn't double, then slightly rose again, then tripled. It was hell never knowing if that pregnancy was going to last. When I finally made it to ultrasound and there was no heartbeat, I was devastated and angry. If the cycle was not going to end in a baby, why did I have to endure that torture? A BFN would have hurt but it would have been easier to mourn. No ups and downs, no D&C, no miscarriage. That loss was painful and the merry-go-round that preceded it was hell. I do not want to do that again. I just want to know. Bad news hurts, it's awful, but it is better than maybes and we'll sees. Limbo sucks and I don't want any part of it. 

I am so mad myself for peeing on that dumb stick and letting it get my hopes up! For those few, short hours, despite my attempts not to, I started to get attached. I began imagining whether Eliana would have a baby brother or sister in the spring. I started thinking about how it would feel to have a big round belly. I contemplated the number of weeks I would wait before telling my friends. I wasn't jumping up and down but I was truly hopeful. And I'm pissed at myself for that. I should have known better. It hurts more this way. It feels like someone offered me what I want most in the world and as soon as I reached to pick it up, they snatched it away and shouted, "Nope! Not this time!". The no sucks but not as much as hearing yes first and having it taken away. 

My heart is slowly breaking. Nothing chips away at that crack quite as much as Eliana's sweet face and her requests for a baby brother or sister. Yesterday, totally out of the blue, she asked me if she could please have a baby brother or sister to hold. She wants it so badly. She tells me she will help with the baby and push the stroller. The hope and love in her eyes when she talks about it is indescribable. It kills me that I almost believed I would be able to fulfill that request nine months from now and now I am not sure when it might happen. I don't know for sure how quickly I will be ready to try again. My emotions just can't handle it. But no matter how sad or hurt I am about this cycle, I am nowhere near the point I was before Eliana was here. These are the same hurts, the same wounds, but they have scar tissue now. I will cry but I will have her to make me smile. I want another baby one day, I want her to have the sibling she craves, but she is enough. This is painful, yes, but it is nothing compared to the hurt of not yet being a mother. So, I will push through the next two days and hope that I have real, solid answers by then. I may cry, I may worry or panic, I may get pissed and hate most of the world, but in the end I will be OK. I just hope that end comes sooner rather than later.

My Lumpy Boob & Me

Over the past few years most of us have become accustomed to the growing presence of pink ribbons, our doctors' reminders to perform monthly self breast-exams, walks for the cure and the sale of pink-dyed baked good donating pennies of the profits to research. Breast cancer has gone from an under-diagnosed, frequently overlooked, and almost certain death sentence to arguably one of the most visible, talked about and screened for diseases in the country. 

With such high visibility and awareness, I admit I often feel guilty that I don't exactly perform those self-exams monthly, or even bi-monthly. It's more like on a "when I remember and then when I actually get to it" thing. I feel even more guilty that I am so lax considering my family history- my paternal grandmother was diagnosed and had a double mastectomy in her 50s. Worst of all though, is that, I still harbor at least a slight "it won't happen to me" attitude. Which is why I am more anxious about dealing with the pain of having a needle jabbed into my boob tomorrow morning than I am about getting the results back on the sample of the lump my doctor will be removing.

I should back up. A couple of months ago, I actually remembered to do that whole boob self-exam thing and I found a bumpy spot inside my right breast. I poked and pushed until it ached and I could be certain it really did feel different the rest of the area. It definitely did. I can best compare it to a hard, round marble just hanging out in the midst of all the other squishy stuff. This may sound alarming, but I've been through this once before and the marble I found when I was in college was also poked, prodded, biopsied and diagnosed as a completely benign fibroadenoma. It looks scary as hell on ultrasound but it's not cancer and for the most part doesn't increase my risk of developing it. And reassuringly, this lump feels very similar to the one I had when I was 23. 

Last week, I did my due diligence and went in for a mammogram and ultrasound to check out the suspicious spot as well as to do an overall check-up of both breasts. Having my boobs squished and pressed again wasn't exactly comfortable but I've survived worse. (HSG anyone?) The ultrasound was almost relaxing, especially since the jelly was heated instead of freezing cold. After lots of looking, the doctor agreed with my initial suspicions that this was most likely another fibroadenoma. She started talking about whether I wanted to biopsy it now to be safe or if I would rather monitor it for 6 months for changes and determine the necessity then. Until, I mentioned my history with infertility, IVF and FET. That's when the biopsy became my only option. 

As if the hell of infertility and the roller coaster of treatment isn't awful enough on its own, there is this whole non-baby related list of potential health issues that affect us and may continue to do so for the rest of our lives. Not that the doctor was particularly alarmed by my IVF history. She still thinks it's a fibroadenoma and so do I, but the fact remains that the effects of fertility drugs on breast cancer rates have still only been through a handful of studies. And as is usually the case, there is plenty of conflicting information. Some studies say there is no increased risk. Others say that there is, but only for younger women. (I was only 27 for both my IVF and FET cycles.) Add to that to wide diversity of treatment fertility patients receive, and I am not willing to take the summarized version of one breast cancer survey on CNN.com as proof that the countless vials of estrogen I have injected directly into my backside plays no role in my future health. So I am having the biopsy. 

Tomorrow I will walk into the office in my cute, blue, loose-fitting button up, have a large, hollow needle plunged into my breast and walk out flattened down by bulky "pressure wrap" wrapped around my chest for 48 hours. This coupled with the fact that I can't exercise or shower for those 2 days, nor can I wear deodorant or perfume to my appointment, worries me more than getting back my results next week. Or so I keep telling myself. Because no matter much I hold on to that teenage dream of "it could never happen to me" or how sure I am that this lump is just like the last one, there is always that nagging doubt in the back of mind. That thought the my grandmother wasn't exactly old when she had to have both breasts removed due to cancer. The knowledge that estrogen is the hormone most connected to increased risk and I have artificially increased my levels of it more than once (and might do it again). The images of pink ribbons and awareness posters. These things creep into my mind just when I have convinced myself that there is nothing to worry about. And the truth is, I really do believe there is nothing to worry about. This time. But I can't help but think, given my history, that it is only a matter of time before it's not "nothing". Which is why I will keep doing those occasionally remembered exams, and showing up for mammogram and biopsy appointments well before menopause dictates that I must. And I will be holding my breath just the tiniest bit when my phone rings next week, until I hear the word "benign".
 

Break Dancing Has A Whole New Meaning

You can see the break on the left side of the Xray

I've done it. I have officially missed my first month blogging. I wanted to write, I did. I just didn't. I didn't do much this past month and a half really. Except turn 30 and in the process break my first bone. 

Let me explain. Since I was about 22, I had this crazy idea that when I turned 30 I would throw a outrageous 80s prom. Not a party with an 80s theme, but an actual prom that just so happens to take place in the 1980s. This year was that year, and after nearly a decade of talking and planning, I actually did it. I rented a hall, formed a prom committee to help me plan and decorate, hired a dj and enjoyed a magical night dancing under crepe paper steamers and foil stars. It truly was a fantastic party and everything came together perfectly. The only exception is, it was the one and only night I have ever tried to really dance in heels and now I am paying for it with a broken foot.

I have been completely non-weight bearing and on crutches for 4 weeks now and I have to tell you, it isn't fun. It's so hard not being able to walk down the block or drive myself anywhere or get myself a glass of water. But the truly depressing thing is not being able to take care of my precious Snow Pea. I can't pick her up, or sit on the floor to play with her, or chase her around the house. This is what I do. This is my life. I am a stay at home mom, if I can't care for my daughter what kind of life do I really have? I can't describe how heartbroken I was the first day I was on crutches and Eliana reached out her hand for me to hold as we walked and I had to tell her I couldn't do it. It was one of the most gut-wrenching moments of my life.

I am incredibly lucky to have a husband with a job that he is both good at and trusted to do from home so that he can be here to do all of the heavy lifting while I can't. I am very grateful to him for the insane amount of responsibility he has taken on since I have been forced to spend large parts of my day with my foot elevated. He has worked very hard to keep up with the laundry, the shopping, the cooking, cleaning and taking care of a hyper toddler while still attempting to do his own job and keep a roof over our heads. To say he is doing it all is an understatement. And while I appreciate all of this very much, it is also killing me. Not only does it drive me crazy when he does things in a different way or a different order than I would (and this true of almost everything) but it kills me that he is now the sun and the moon for Eliana, and I am just an orbiting satellite. As the working parent, my husband also gets to more often be the "fun" one, the one that comes home after a day apart and have new energy to play and laugh which leaves me as the at home parent to be the one she runs to most often when she needs something. But now that I can no longer give her the things she is asking for, and I can't play with her in the rough and tumble way a toddler thrives on, I feel more like an accessory than a real parent. 

One thing I have learned in the past 20 months I have been a parent is that time flies and each new stage of her development is only new for a few weeks before the next new stage begins. Being completely unable to stand on my own two feet, I feel like I am missing so much of the fun and joy of this time with her. This is time I will never be able to get back. Once she goes to the next phase, this one will be just a memory and I'm afraid I am only getting to experience it from the fringes. Just this afternoon, it was decided that a trip to the grocery store would be more efficient if I stayed home and kept my foot up so Eliana and Chad are out doing the errands she and I normally do together while I stay here with my laptop. I hate feeling like I am missing out on my daily life but all three of us are learning to cope.

Right before Christmas, we rented a wheelchair so that I could participate in our annual tradition of strolling along  our neighborhood's "Candy Cane Lane" and enjoying the lights. Since I was on wheels, my lap became Eliana's seat and we cuddled together while she pointed out sparkly lights and cutout snowmen. We've also successfully navigated a couple of trips to Disney this way which has been a joy. Eliana and I have even figured out a way to hold hands while I'm on crutches by me extending my index finger for her to grip on to. It's not perfect but it has definitely made me appreciate these little moments. I'm not sure how I feel about my daughter being the only kid her age that knows how to say "crutches" or that anytime she hears someone say "ouch" she responds with "foot! Mommy's foot!" but I do love that she came to me the other day and gently patted my broken foot and gave it an "all better" kiss. I'm so worried about missing time with her and sweet girl that she is, she's just concerned about me feeling all better. 

I think the greatest benefit I've gotten from breaking my foot, is my new found appreciation for having complete mobility. I never realized just how much I took it for granted, how much we all do, until I lost some of it. I am definitely counting myself lucky that my condition is a temporary one. I still have a hard time being forced to take a back seat in my own life. I actually look forward to the day I can carry laundry up and down the stairs or go to the grocery store and buy ingredients for the week's meals. I especially look forward to the day I can run, jump, play and dance with my precious little girl again. Until then, I am doing my best to cherish the quiet moments- cuddling her on my lap as I read a book, having her bring me cup after cup of pretend tea and singing her favorite songs with her as she shows off her dance moves. I just hope she's a little less clumsy than her mother and that her dance moves never have the same results mine did. ;)

Love, Life, & Loss

Tomorrow Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month comes to a close. But before October ends, I want to take a moment and reflect on this emotional remembrance and do my part to add to the awareness of miscarriage, pregnancy loss and infant death. I truly believe it is important to have this time to stop the rest of the world and make the voices of loss heard. 

Of course, as always, my family participated in the OC Walk to Remember in honor of the steps our babies will never take. It was an emotional event just as in years past, but what really struck me was just how big the event has become since we first took part 3 years ago. There were so many new faces, new names read aloud. The crowd was noticeably larger and the funds raised to support local NICUs and baby loss support groups was quite impressive. I really am thrilled to know that we helped to support such an amazing cause but I still really don't know how to feel about how much the walk has grown in these past few years. 

The thought I wanted to hold on to and the one Chad kept steering me toward, was that the walk's growth is a good thing. More families than ever who have suffered the loss of their precious little ones are getting the support and the resources they need to grieve, to honor and cherish their babies. The walk's growth means that so many who may have been carrying their heartbreak alone for so long, now have found a place where they can celebrate their baby, hear their name, cry openly and do something positive for others who are going through the same. And the sheer number of supportive family and friends who accompany these grieving parents, holding their hands, shedding their own tears and honoring their lost sons and daughters alongside them is enough to make anyone's heart swell. Clearly, the walk, the entire Month itself, is fulfilling one very important mission in raising awareness of loss and increasing the love and support for those that experience it. 

I tried my best to only think about these many positive aspects of seeing so many new faces among the ever-expanding crowd this year, but I couldn't help knowing better. I knew that many of these new faces meant new losses and for that my heart broke over and over again. I still carry and honor every single one of the names I wore last year. This year, I sadly had many new precious ones to add to that list. My little community has suffered far too much and I pray every day that no more will come, that the most recent loss will be the last. But no matter what happens I will always, always honor and remember. It is the least I can do. 

And I can hope. I can keep reaching out for that light amongst the darkness. I can celebrate the sweet boy born just before 25 weeks gestation fighting and growing in the NICU. I can cheer for the amazing little boy home with his parents and big brother after the devastating loss of his twin sister in utero. I can rejoice for the friend who has reached full term with a healthy baby boy after the gut-wrenching goodbye she said to his twin halfway through her pregnancy. I can praise the amazing nurses and staff at NYU Medical Center who safely evacuated 20 infants from the NICU after the hospital lost power during Hurricane Sandy (story here). I can support those who are finding their way after a loss. Hold their hands as they try to bring their rainbows into the world or stand with them if they decide not to pursue another pregnancy.

It breaks my heart into a million pieces to think of anyone ever suffering the devastating loss of a child. I still cry for each miscarriage, each lost baby and I wish more than anything that no one would ever have to go through such pain. And yes, knowing what I know about how fragile these things are, seeing loss after loss, does give me trepidation when I consider trying to conceive again one day, but I would still never turn away from this community. Because what I have learned is that it is not just loss or grief we can find here, there is hope, there is love, there is life. Grieving is living, contrary to what many will have you believe. Crying, wailing, mourning, whatever form it takes, it honors the life we miss. My grandmother shared with me recently the stories of her two stillborn sons and the grief she still feels. She wears their birthstones on her mother ring right alongside her other six children and remembers them every day with love. I know that losing her boys shattered her heart and that she, like all parents who have lost, will always miss those pieces. But seeing how those that have experienced loss honor their children in the amazing ways that they live life is truly awe-inspiring.

For those that have lost babies, I know your hearts ache all year long. Please know that while October has been a month for the nation to be made aware of the reality of Pregnancy and Infant Loss, so many of us also ache all year along with you and we remember, love and honor every day. 

We Remember

This past Saturday, October 15th, was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. A day to raise awareness, to support those who have lost and to honor the lives, however brief, that have touched our souls and left our hearts changed forever. Since becoming involved in the infertility community, I have become close to many families that have had their lives forever changed by these tragedies. I always try to offer support and love in any that I can, knowing that I can't make their world right again and bring their beloved baby back, but I can at the very least honor their child and offer a shoulder to lean on.

One such family suffered an unimaginable loss earlier this year very close to the time I registered for The OC Walk to Remember, a 5k walk to honor and support infant and pregnancy loss. And it was with their precious boy-girl twins in my heart that I registered this year in honor of them, so that their names could be honored.

Last year, having recently suffered a miscarriage myself and wanting to support our neighbors who had lost their 5 month old daughter, I found the walk while searching for events to honor these losses. We walked with our neighbors as well as so many other in the loss community, holding hands and crying along with them. As I walked that day I carried the thought of so many angels in my heart. My Sprout of course, but I also thought of Matthew James, Wyatt River, Logan Ryan and Brody McRae. I greatly appreciated the ceremony at the event in which all of the names of every baby that was being honored was read out loud. Each precious name was given the opportunity to be not only spoken but heard. These names are so powerful, so beautiful, so alive. It often seems that the world has an easy time forgetting that those lost early on in life where never really here, but to those who have had to say goodbye too soon , they will never forget. The names of their children need to be shared, to be acknowledged, to be kept alive.

Such Beautiful Names

While I was thrilled to be honoring precious Bayli & Thomas Jr by having their names read during the ceremony, I knew there were far too many other precious lives that needed to be remembered. Names that needed to be shared. So I came up with the idea for the remembrance shirt that includes the names, legal or not, of those we've lost but will always love. (you can read that blog post here). And Saturday, the whole family wore those names proudly as we walked those symbolic steps. It isn't easy to articulate all of the emotion of that day. I cried, I smiled and I cried some more. It was an an amazing event that I wish there wasn't a reason for, but since there is, I am glad the walk exists.

Dressed and ready to walk for the steps they'll never take

Flowers for Thomas and Bayli

Over 2,000 people registered to walk. It was so moving to see whole families honoring their children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews and siblings. It was also inspiring to see so many families from last year that now had their rainbows in their arms. Us included.

Reaching out to touch Thomas & Bayli's names

Us and our neighbors with our rainbow babies

Rainbow buddies <3

Each name is precious and deserves to be honored.
(Let me know if you'd like your angels name added. I can still edit new versions for next year or if you'd like one for yourself.)

Honoring all those lost during the worldwide Wave of Light.

Some of my biggest tears of the day came right before the Remembrance Ceremony began. Just as Chad, Eliana and I had found our place among the crowd, I received a text from my dear friend Deanna, who had recently become unexpectedly pregnant for after a diagnoses of unexplained infertility and becoming a mother to a beautiful boy earlier this year through IVF. She had just had an ultrasound that morning where she tragically learned that her pregnancy had ended at 9 weeks. Although I sadly knew before the day began that my shirt would one day be outdated if another loss occurred amongst those in my life, I never imagined it would be so soon, on the day of remembrance itself. Heartbreaking is too light a word for it. I am still so devastated for her. Please stop by her blog and give her some love if you can. http://misdconception.blogspot.com/

Walking The Steps They'll Never Take

As you may know, October is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness month. Having experienced pregnancy loss myself as well as having so many close friends who have also miscarried or lost their little ones, it has become very important to me to honor those precious lives. Last year, we began the tradition of participating in the OC Walk to Remember, a 5k walk to take the steps our babies never got to take. We walked for Sprout and for every other Angel baby. We really wanted to support other parents who had suffered a loss, including our neighbors, who you may remember lost their 5 month old daughter to a congenital heart defect last year. It is a special event to walk side by side with these families and honor their children.

This year, I am saddened over even more heartbreaking losses within our community. I have been in tears so many times this year, hurting for those who have had to say goodbye far too soon. Having Snow Pea home with me, happy and healthy, has made me more grateful and happy than I ever could have dreamed, but it also makes me more aware of just how incredibly painful the loss of her from my life would truly be. This year, as I registered again for the walk I remembered our Sprout & how much that loss hurt, but I registered to walk in honor of two very special little ones, Bayli and Thomas Jr. Their names, along with their sisters'- Ayla & Juliet, will be displayed and read aloud during the flower ceremony preceding the walk. If you aren't familiar with these names, or their mother, Lis, you can find her blog here

Since I first registered for the walk I have had so many other precious lives on their loving parents on my mind and in my heart. I registered in honor of 4 amazing babies gone too soon, so that their names would be spoken aloud and seen and remembered, but there are so many other precious names that deserve to be honored as well. I have said it a million times but I will always say it again, the "virtual" community I have become a part of is so incredible, loving and real. I have not met most of the parents whose children's names I will be wearing in the real world, I don't even know some of those parent's real names, but I still feel a strong connection to each of them and a deep hurt for each of their losses. I have shared so much with them, been there through the darkest moments of their lives as best as I could, just as they have done for me. So I have designed a shirt to wear during the walk that has not only their names displayed but the names of many other angels that our community will always miss and never forget.

If you would like to see the shirt or order one for yourself, you can find it at my newly update CafePress store "Angels Remembered". A portion of your order will be donated to support groups for grieving parents. It is the same design for both the men's and women's shirts and you can order it in any color or size you wish. I had to quickly create & order to be able to receive it on time for the walk which takes place on October 15th- Worldwide Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day, so if your angel's name is missing and you would like to add it, let me know and I will be able to create an edit just for you so that your shirt will have it.











I really wanted to find a way to make the shirts myself to see if I could get them any cheaper and raise money for the cause at the same time, but then I remembered I have pretty mediocre crafting skills and almost zero time (this blog is already days overdue!) Since most of the money for the shirts goes to the printers and not the charity, I have created an additional fund raising page for the OC Walk to Remember that will collect donations in honor of sweet Bayli and Thomas to support grieving families. If you would like to learn more or make a donation you can do so at my site Baby Steps For Bayli & Thomas.

On October 15, I will walk, alongside my husband, daughter and friends to lovingly honor, remember and cherish the memories of each of these precious lives. It is truly an honor for me to be able to celebrate them and although the event itself is only one day, the impact it's had on me will last a lifetime.

An Unlikely Meeting

Those of you that know me in real life or have been following my journey for a while now will undoubtedly remember where I was at this time last year. In March of 2010, I had completed my first cycle of IVF and discovered that it had worked and I was pregnant with my little Sprout. By April, both mine and Chad's emotions were in a tailspin of hope, worry and sadness as betas and ultrasounds began to reveal that my pregnancy would not be a viable one. It was and still is the hardest time of my entire life. And the irony of my miracle baby girl being born during the exact same time that my first pregnancy ended in heartbreak has never escaped me. I have often marveled at the coincidence of it and the emotional effect it has on me.

I know to many, Sprout's short time with us doesn't seem so significant, but it is a loss I still feel and probably always will. That will always be my first pregnancy, my first ray of hope and unconditional love for a child of mine. I had a necklace made to memorialize Sprout and have worn it during every major moment during my FET and pregnancy with Snow Pea. I found peace in the belief that Sprout had left my body ready to nurture new life and having that charm close to my heart for transfer, each ultrasound, labor and even Eliana's birth, has helped me keep that connection and that peace. What's really amazed me is the moments I have felt the connection between Sprout and Snow Pea in very unexpected ways.

When Chad and I were hanging by a thread toward the end of my pregnancy with Sprout, we heard the song "Imagine" by John Lennon as we drove to the RE's office and we both felt the comfort of it. We actually heard it nearly every time we went to those appointments and decided very quickly that it was Sprout's song. After the pregnancy ended, we didn't hear it played again until the morning we drove to the office for my beta after Snow Pea's transfer. I will always remember the moment it started playing, Chad and I both froze and looked at each other, with tiny tears in our eyes, and he said "I think Sprout is giving us a sign" And of course, hours later we got the call that the FET had in fact been successful, I was pregnant and this time it went the distance.

In the days right before Snow Pea was born, an even bigger and more surprising connection nearly beat me over the head. I was days from my scheduled induction and trying to stay busy while also finishing any tasks I could pre-baby. I decided to visit the mall near my house to get some yummy chocolates to bring to the nurses when we went into the hospital. As I walked out of the candy store, I saw that a scene had been set and ready for the Easter Bunny's arrival. I was immediately giddy. Holiday fun like that is one of the things I was most looking forward to about mommy-hood and this was the fist time I realized I'd get to celebrate this fun holiday moment with my daughter so soon!

I excitedly called Chad to tell him we just had to take Snow Pea for pictures with the Easter Bunny after she was born, and began looking around the scene for signs indicating how much photos would cost. I couldn't find a price list, but instead I saw a sign that instantly made my eyes water. It said "Sprout, the Easter Bunny, will arrive April 9th". How could my jaw not hit the floor? The Easter Bunny's name is Sprout? And he is coming on my baby's birth date? Does it get more ironic? Why yes, it does. I looked more closely at the scene set for his arrival and saw that on his bunny chair sat a great big Easter basket. Inside there were two big, brightly colored eggs and a pea pod and that was it, nothing else. Sprout had a Snow Pea in his basket. Whoa. I know the whole universe didn't conspire to make all of this happen just for my benefit but suddenly taking my baby girl to get pictures with the Easter Bunny took on new depth. Snow Pea was going to meet Sprout.

Of course, the actual meeting was uneventful for both Sprout the bunny and my Snow Pea, Eliana. She slept through it all in her adorable Easter dress and he held her carefully and sweetly so as not to disturb her, both of them sitting next to the pea prop I made sure was in the picture. But for me it was a bittersweet and wonderful moment. Not only were we there together taking part in our very first holiday tradition as a family of three, but somehow it all made a crazy connection in my heart and gave me a feeling of coming full circle. One year ago exactly I was saying goodbye to my Sprout and now here I am saying hello to my Snow Pea. Last year for Easter, Chad made a basket for Sprout which included an adorable, soft plush chick that for months I had to hide away in a box because the sight of it made me cry. Now it sits in the nursery, a gift from Sprout to Snow Pea.

As I said, I know that to many I may be making way too much out of lots of little things, but it gives my heart a sense of peace to see these connections, whether they are real or imagined. After years of struggle and heartbreak, my first pregnancy was a dream come true and nothing in my life has ever hurt as deeply as when it ended without a child to show for it. And as deeply as I love my daughter, a part of me will still always remember that loss and wonder what might have been. I know this sounds crazy but I continue to find contentment in a thought I had just after my pregnancy with Sprout officially ended. I felt as if Sprout somehow left my body in a state even more ready to grow life. As if, like a truly protective and loving older sibling, Sprout left some special unseen energy to ensure that the next one would grow healthy and strong. These moments, occurring just before learning I was pregnant and just before my daughter's birth, may be coincidence but to me they are signs that my feeling that day was right.

What A Pain!

Wow the last few days have been rough! It all started late Wednesday night/early Thursday morning when I woke up in the middle of the night with terrible tooth pain. It was BAD. And being pregnant I could only take regular strength Tylenol, so sleep was very hard to come by. I was luckily able to get in to see the dentist first thing that morning. I was nervous about what would be needed and how it would affect Snow Pea, but I had a note with instructions on dental care from my OB and the dental staff was very concerned about taking every possible precaution for me and baby. I was in pain but at least I was being well taken care of.

After as few X-rays as possible, the dentist determined I would definitely need a root canal, as I had suspected. He prescribed me an antibiotic and scheduled me to see the specialist the following morning. The rest of the day was still pretty rough since I couldn't take much for the pain but I somehow managed to fall asleep and make it into see the specialist the next morning. I tried to relax as much as possible which was especially tough considering I have a long time anxiety issue when it comes to any kind of dental work. I used to have to take anti-anxiety meds just for a cleaning! Luckily, I have been getting better and the staff once again did all they could to put my mind at ease.

Unfortunately, I couldn't explain what was going to Snow Pea, and once the drill started she began moving like crazy! I can only imagine how shocking the loud sound and vibrations must have been to her. Poor thing must have been so startled and confused. Once it was all over I could feel her calm down considerably though and the good news is the hard part is now over. I do need to go back for a build-up and crown though but there is much less work involved at those appointments.

So no more tooth pain, yay! But of course that just meant a new pain was headed my way because by the end of that night I had developed a different kind of infection thanks to the antibiotics that are treating my tooth. Many of you ladies probably know what I am referring to as I know that many of us suffer these infections from time to time, especially when the natural "good" bacteria in our bodies dies off and things get out of control. If you're not sure what I am talking about, all I will say is that it is downright miserable, especially when it starts on a weekend and you have to wait until Monday to see your OB to do anything about it.

Today is finally Monday, so I was able seen this afternoon and hopefully the prescription I received will have me back to normal very soon. I especially hope to be back to my old self my the weekend because Chad and I are planning a mini "babymoon" weekend. We love to travel and plan to continue our trips and excursions with our daughter, but this will be our last chance to spend this kind of time together as a twosome and I am really looking forward to it.

Since I was already in the office, the NP decided to do my bi-weekly check as well and everything is still right on target. I have lost some weight since my last check up which made me a little nervous at first but she didn't seem concerned about it since my measurements are all right where they should be and showing healthy growth. I am thinking it is must just be the normal fluctuations of water retention, which has me convinced my bloggy friends were right when they said that regular weigh ins during pregnancy aren't necessarily the greatest idea.

She used doppler instead of an ultrasound to check on Snow Pea so I don't know what position she was in, but even if we had seen her I bet she would have moved completely an hour later. She does not stay still! She is not just kicking in there, I can feel and even see her moving and rolling over and flipping from side to side. The other night she was curled into one side of my belly and totally changed the shape of it from round to some sort weird oblong, oval. Then last night she seemed to be fist pumping into the side of of tummy as Chad and I watched the little bump rise and fall repeatedly right next to my belly button. I thought she was moving a lot before but now it really does look like she is trying to break free through the front of my stomach. It is crazy to feel but even crazier to watch! I can't believe how much of it I can actually see.

Since she was so active and so clearly close to my skin last night, we decided to listen to her on our doppler and for the first time since we got it, I heard her actual heartbeat and not just the whooshing sound of blood moving through her body. Both sounds are effectively the same thing and I love them both, but this was especially exciting because the noise was so distinct and so clear! It was so similar to the sound you hear when resting your head on someone's chest except a heck of a lot faster. It definitely took me away from my pain and frustration for those few minutes listening to her heart thumping.

Tomorrow is dentist appointment number two of three. I am looking forward to being one step closer to being 100% pain free but I am hoping that any drilling that needs to be done will be at a minimum for poor Snow Pea's sake. I hate being at the dentist but I hate having to put her through it along with me even more.

Pregnancy Guilt

Lately, it seems like there are more and more ladies in the infertile community crossing over into the new and unfamiliar territory of pregnancy. With this transition comes so many wonderful emotions and feelings but there are unexpected emotions as well. Almost everyone I know that has gone from infertile frustration to pregnant elation has dealt with some type of guilt in the process. Everyone remembers the hurt they felt after a BFN or pregnancy loss when someone else around them got pregnant. Having dealt with that pain ourselves we hate to think we could be the ones unintentionally inflicting it on others. I have read many blog posts this year from women who are feeling this way and want desperately to reach out and let others know they care while still honoring their pregnancies and cherishing them.

I of course, being newly pregnant again after years of struggle, thousands in treatment and the loss of my 1st pregnancy, have dealt with these emotional struggles as well. I love and adore the women that have supported me and cheered me on through twitter and my blog and I want to continue to support each of them as they continue their journeys into motherhood and beyond. I understand, though, how hard it can be and do my best to be sensitive to others. But I also know that there may be some who need to protect their feelings and will choose to avoid my blog or tweets and I respect that.

Recently though I have feared inadvertently hurting someone who will have no way to hide from my pregnancy and it breaks my heart to think of it. My husband and I live a neighborhood with shared garages. The neighbors we share ours with moved in when the wife was about 8 months pregnant. They were so excited and positive and couldn't wait to be parents. When their little girl was born you could tell they were overjoyed. When we passed them coming and going they always commented on how wonderful it was have their daughter home with them.

Then at about the time I did my 1st IVF transfer, about 6 months after their daughter was born, we stopped running into them. Their car was never in the garage and we never saw them coming or going. To be honest we were pretty distracted with our IVF and subsequent miscarriage so we didn't think too much of it, but then we learned the awful truth. I am good friends with the woman who manages our property and she let me know that they had planned on moving early because their baby girl had passed away. My heart shattered into a million pieces when I heard this. I know how painful my pregnancy loss had been, I couldn't even imagine how devastating losing your 6 month old child would be.

I completely understood why they would want to move and didn't expect to see them again, but suddenly one day they were back. They were as nice to us as they had always been, smiling and saying hello when we'd see each other and leaving plenty of space for our car when they parked. I didn't want to pry or tell them what I had heard so I never stopped to ask about the baby. Stopping them as they got in or out of their car just didn't seem like an appropriate way to approach them anyway.

But then they came home one day with a remembrance decal on their back window and I saw that their little angel's 1st birthday was coming soon. So I told Chad and we immediately agreed that we should do something to let them know we were thinking about them. Just hearing those simple words meant so much to me after our loss, and I wanted them to know we cared. So on the baby's birthday we left a potted plant with little yellow blooms on the front porch with a simple note saying they were in our thoughts and our hearts.

This was over the weekend. Last night, we were walking out of the garage as they pulled in and they stopped to thank us and say how much it meant to them. Chad and I both got teary as they said they had wanted to say something to us sooner but it was hard for them to talk about it. Then they suggested we all get together sometime, which we wholeheartedly agreed to.

As we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, I cried again. I cried for their heartbreak and loss and for the fear that I will soon be a source of more pain. The day will come when my pregnancy will be visible and I can't imagine them having to be parked next to me every day never knowing when they might run into me and my bump, then one day running into me and my baby. I just can't imagine hurting either of them like that. It is the last thing I want to do. Chad and I talked and agreed that if we do actually have dinner or something with them in the near future, we will tell them our story and our situation so that they are prepared. Nothing is worse than the shock of not knowing or not being told and being surprised by the news later.

I still don't know what happened but really that is not important, what is important is that they have suffered an unimaginable loss and I want to be as sensitive to it as I possibly can. I am crying now just writing this, for them and anyone else who has ever lost a child as well as for those struggling to become parents. Both are a deep source of pain that no one should ever have to endure and my heart hurts for every unsuccessful cycle, adoption wait and loss.

Pregnancy after infertility feels a lot like survivor's guilt. Why should I be here while so many others still hurt and struggle? Why me and not them? Of course I love Snow Pea with all my heart and wouldn't trade this pregnancy for anything, but I still find it so unfair that so many wonderful people are still struggling with infertility and loss. I hope and pray that I can not only avoid causing anyone any hurt but that I can also be there to love and support those who need it.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

This past weekend was the last before my transfer and as such, Chad and I thought a little fun was in order. So when we were invited to a party Friday night, it seemed like a great idea. And it was, we had a great time laughing with friends, playing cards and doing shots, just not the shots you typically would do at a party. No, while going through fertility treatments there are a whole different set of shots to worry about and party night was no exception.

After the cancellation scare Friday morning, my nurse called and instructed me to do my first hCG shot that night. Since we are supposed to time these pretty consistently it was quickly obvious that the injection schedule and the party would conflict. We discussed skipping it, after all our FET is the most important thing in the world right now and I would rather have quiet Fridays at home with my family anyway. But we also really did want to go, have some fun and enjoy the chance to just be us for the night. So I turned to to twitter. Do we go? And if so, do I inject 4 hours early or try to stealthily do the shot at the party?

I was so grateful for the response I got and after hearing a few great tales of secret injections in similar circumstances, (including one loving DH that sneaked into a bachelorette party, administered the injection and crept back out) we decided to pack up our supplies and go for it. Secretly mixing medication in the bathroom of a friend's house was definitley a unique and memorable experience. Unfortunately, being in this unique situation was not without flaws and our numbing efforts were unsuccessful, resulting in the most painful injection yet. It hurt for quite a while afterward and I had to avoid sitting for most of the night, but overall it worked. We did the shot, the meds made it back home safely and we had a good time.

I thought the shot excitement for this FET would end there but alas, before the weekend ended we had one more mishap. After all the concern and subsequent relief surrounding Friday night's hCG injection, we both completely forgot about Saturday night's estrogen injection. Sunday morning, almost exactly 12 hours after we should have done the shot, Chad realized that something was missing. We checked the schedule and sure enough, we had missed a shot. I admit I was slightly nervous but knowing that this injection was supplemental I felt mostly confident that if we did the injection immediately it would be fine, a call to my nurse confirmed it. So that's what we did, and while this one hurt less it cause the most bleeding of any injection yet. That coupled with the bruise I acquired Friday night did not make for a pretty sight, good thing this is an area of my body no one else has to look at.

All of this made for a funny and interesting shot filled weekend. These are definitley different than the shots we were doing together before we got married and while I would have never imagined being in this situation or having to go through so much to create our family, I have to honestly say I like these shots a little bit better. Yes, they are inconvenient, painful and expensive but the results of doing them are definitely much more desirable. I would choose a well prepared body, ready for a growing baby over a hangover any day. "Bottoms up!" suddenly has a totally different meaning!

Regression is Progression

I have been working very hard at putting one foot in front of the other each day, at moving forward and finding hope amongst all the pain. But this past weekend I lived what I already knew, and that is that, even as I begin to heal emotionally there will be backwards steps, and wow did I backstep!

As I mentioned in a previous post, once Chad and I found out about the miscarriage, we called off our trip to Florida to visit friends and family. A mutual friend of ours who has been very close throughout the process wanted to visit us instead and we thought it was a great idea. It seemed like the perfect way to get some in person support and positivity. It was a short trip and started out with lots of fun and laughter but on the second day I had kind of a break down.

The day started out pleasantly. The three of us made plans to get out of the house and enjoy the great Saturday ahead of us, but after a little while I found myself getting easily irritated for no real reason. I couldn't really understand why I was so moody all of the sudden. The guys tried to help and truly were being nice about it, but my emotions kept snowballing and before I knew it I was a crazy mix of sad, mad and confused. I became a crying mess and the worst part was I couldn't really understand why. I felt like a prisoner in my own head. Inside I knew there was nothing to be upset about, I knew I was being overly emotional and irrational but I couldn't stop myself from feeling what I felt. And then the tears suddenly gained a focus and a meaning and that's when I really cried it out.

I realized that although it didn't seem like it at first, it was still all about losing Sprout. Our friend was supposed to be visiting later, once the baby was born, and although his visit was great it was a also a reminder of what I had lost, what should have been but wasn't. Not knowing why I was upset at first also contributed to the intense emotions because I really started to wonder if I was losing my mind. Luckily, I was the only one that thought that and not only did I get amazing support from Chad and our friend, but as always my Twitter girls came to the rescue and assured me that even though it didn't feel like it, what I was going through is completely normal.

And that's the truth, it is completely normal. I am healing and feeling more hopeful and at peace everyday, but that doesn't mean I don't also still feel pain. And although it felt like a giant step backwards to lose it like that, I realize that I was actually accessing and getting out some of the pain I hadn't felt yet. Getting it out is the only true way for me to heal, so I even though it felt like I was regressing I know that it was really progress instead. The big myth is that healing of any kind is linear, that you just keep going through the stages of grief one by one until you're all better, but the truth is, the path is bumpy and there are many twists and turns along the way. I have to give myself permission to have the bad days as well as the good. I am still putting one foot in front of the other every day and I am lucky enough to have an amazing support system to help me through on the days I step in muddy water. If I need to cry I will cry, but if I want to laugh I can do that too, even at the same time! I know I'm not completely restored or emotionally healed yet but that's OK, I don't need to be, I just need to be true to me.

A Bittersweet Mother's Day

It's official, I have crossed over from distracted blogger to complete slacker. In my defense though it really has been an incredibly busy couple of weeks for me since the D&C. I will spare you the boring details about work and errands and just tell you all about my impulsive, amazing and bittersweet Mother's Day.

Before learning whether or not I was even pregnant, Chad and I had discussed going home to Florida to visit friends and family this May. We were waiting to buy plane tickets until we knew our fate and knew whether travel would be a good and/or feasible idea. When the pregnancy test came back positive we began planning a trip for Mother's Day to last through the following week so that we would have plenty of time to spend with the people that mattered most. And since I'd be about 11 weeks along by then we thought it might be a good time to share the news. We were thrilled at the idea of celebrating with my mom and grandmother as well as our closest friends.

Then the ultrasound that changed everything came and we immediately knew we were too emotional, too sad and too drained to spend a week visiting with everyone. The trip was beyond overwhelming, so we canceled and planned to see everyone in August when we would be in town for a friend's wedding.

It has been difficult these past few weeks not to be able to really cry with the people I cared about, especially my mom. I know it has been killing her to have her baby girl going through so much pain and to be thousands of miles away. So when I got an email last week offering a great deal on flights out of LA to Orlando for Mother's Day weekend I jumped at the deal. And I didn't tell anyone I was coming!

It was so wonderful to see my mom and my some of my closest friends but it was even better to see the looks of shock on their faces when I knocked on their doors. I even got to surprise my grandparents which meant the world to me, because they won't be in Florida when I come back this August. And even though the weekend was still very emotional and oftentimes painful for me, it was beyond amazing to get a real life hug from my mom when I was crying. I try to be so strong and positive all the time but sometimes I really just want my mommy, and it was great to have that at a time when I really needed it.

Secretly flying in to see my mom, grandparents and best friends this weekend was a great way to surprise them for Mother's Day but Chad came up with a beautiful surprise for me as well. While I was sitting at the table catching up with my best friend Saturday night (technically Sunday morning) he called and asked me to check my Facebook messages. Everyone in the TTC community knows how scary FB can be, especially during a holiday specifically set aside to celebrate something we all want but don't yet have, so I admit I was a bit nervous, but he insisted so I did. And what I found when I did was moving in so many ways. I cried, I laughed and then I cried some more. And I thanked my wonderful husband for all the time and thought he put into expressing how he felt to me on a day that was very difficult for us both. I can't adequately describe it so I have posted his creation here for you to see. Just a warning, you may need a tissue or two.

I can't say this was the Mother's Day I had dreamed of but it was certainly better than hiding under my covers and sobbing all day as I had originally planned. And although there still was some sobbing involved, I am happy that I went and even happier that some of those tears weren't painful ones. And of course I am beyond happy to be married to the most amazing and wonderful man I have ever known. I am still in pain but this past weekend I realized more than ever how truly blessed I am by the incredible people in my life and I am so glad that my future children will be lucky enough to have such caring people in their lives too.