I'm bad at keeping up with a blog...obviously.

Well. I had my first pregnancy test on February 18th. They were hoping to see any level in HCG as it was still very early but said that they would like it to be at least 50. Mine came back at 262! I was definitely pregnant!!

I went back two days later and it was 538.

Five after that it was 3132.

And four days after that it was over 10,000.

So my HCG was doing what it should, doubling every two to three days.

For some reason I was still having all this doubt. I had a dream that I went to my first ultrasound and there were two gestational sacs and both were empty. Then I came down with the stomach flu. I am currently on day five of this nasty bug and just now able to drink a cup  of water and keep some food down. Over the weekend I was very dehydrated and I was certain I was killing my baby/babies but there was just nothing I could do about it.

I had my first ultrasound this morning. My husband went with me. I was a wreck because 1: I was trying not the throw up the whole way there and 2: I had the feeling everything was about to go wrong.

They were behind. Which is usual for a Monday morning because that it the only day of the week the doctor is actually there in that office. They drew my blood first. Actually, they dug and dug and dug for a vein (thanks flu) until they got just enough blood to run labs on. My arm still hurts and it's now been 6 hours.

The nurses took turns telling me I didn't look so good and got me a script for Zofran (thank you Jesus!). Doctor came in to do the ultrasound and told me he was just as anxious as I was. I politely told him that was impossible and he said ok, you might me a little more anxious. Then said alright, let's see how many are in there!! (Ever the optimist, gotta love him for that.)

He put the probe in and I Immediately saw two gestational sacs and two beating hearts. TWO. I couldn't even explain to my poor ultrasound illiterate husband what we were seeing between gasps and oh my Gods. Luckily, the doctor was quick to tell him the news and that he just knew there would be two. Doctor said they both look beautiful and are measuring right on at 6 weeks one day. They also noted that this could be the reason I'm so sick. (I'm hoping they are wrong and this sickness is gone like, yesterday!)

We are still in shock. Excited. Worried. Scared shitless, comes to mind. But, Blessed.

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Judgement Day

I went into the office Monday morning for my first set of labs after transfer. All levels looked good and I have stayed on the, estradiol three times a day, vivelle dot patch evert three days and 2 cc of progesterone in oil once a day since then. That's not the exciting part. The exciting part is that learned the office protocol has changed. They no longer do the first HCG test 14 days post transfer. Now it's only 10 days. So I go in tomorrow morning for my pregnancy test. Four whole days sooner! I was pretty ecstatic. That meant I only had 7 days left already. I thought it would fly by.

It didn't. It still dragged on and on. I overanalyzed every single little cramp, ( which I had a ton of the first few days following transfer) every little bought of nausea (which I had a ton of all week and spent one night throwing up), and every singe mood swing (which I am still having a ton of). The mood swings I would say are the worse. I'm almost convinced I've developed bipolar disease. It's really THAT bad. Also, I have been alternating positive and negative attitudes each day it seems. One day I am convinced I am pregnant and the next I'm convinced I am starting my period. Today is a positive day. Thankfully. The negative days are hard to get through.

Tomorrow is the day. Last time they called me at the end of the day with good news and a Beta of 1,315. I know I am going to get good news tomorrow too. I also know that at four days sooner my Beta is very likely to be lower. And also last time at that point I had two babies growing that accounted for a Beta that high. I am going to try not to lose all hope if they call and give me a much lower number tomorrow.

Tomorrow, someone is going to be telling me I am pregnant. The next 24 hours will be the most excruciating of the last few months.

Transferred

Wednesday I got the call to be in the IVF office downstate with a full belly and a full bladder at 11:15 for an 11:45 transfer. Considering the snow that was dumped on us over Thursday night. Originally we had had planned to drop our little guy off at grandma and papa's at 9am and head down to our appointment. Instead we had him there and were on the road by 8:30. I am the worlds worst passenger when it comes to driving on snowy roads. I spent the next two hours alternating telling my husband to slow down and complaining that we were going to be late and our embryos were going to die in a test tube waiting for us to get there for them. When I wasn't nagging him, I was staring at my phone willing it not to ring with bad news that our babies didn't survive the the thawing process.

We stopped to grab some McDonald's breakfast on the way, which I knew wasn't a brilliant idea since my lack of a gallbladder has kept me away from that grease pit. We got to the office 40 minutes early and had to wait in the parking lot. Now I had a full bladder and I was also trying not to shit my pants from the McGriddle and hash brown I scarfed down an hour before. My husband finally convinced me to go in and try to poop without letting any urine sneak out. I tried. I failed. Out came a little pee, and out came zero poop. So up we went to the office, me with a full bladder and full rectum. Nothing like a little comfort for a stressful morning. I changed into a gown, and hubby put his gown over his clothes. The nurse then forced me to drink another glass of water even though I ensured her I was full. Then they gave me the magical Valium I couldn't wait to get. I needed a whole bottle by then. She tried to draw my blood for baselines, twice, and then said she would try again later. We walked into the procedure room. They checked my bladder, which was more full than necessary (told ya so) and then called the doctor in. Doctor said both embryos survived and looked pretty just like their mom, and we decided to transfer them both as planned. Speculum was inserted catheter passed through cervix, all while the ultrasound probe was being pushed into my pelvis just to challenge me not to piss in their faces.  Doctor called for the embryos to be brought into the room and then they were flushed through the catheter. And it was over. Just like that. Doctor shook our hands, told us congratulations and gave us a picture of our embryos and one of my uterus with a the tiny bright spot where they were left to fend for themselves. Five minutes later they let me empty my bladder and then put us back in the recovery room to lay flat for 30 minutes. We spent that time comparing our new embryos picture to the embryo pictures from out previous transfer. We decided one looked like a girl and one looked like a boy.  A new nurse came in to draw my blood, which she got on the first try and sent us on our way. 

Bed rest for me for 48 hours and then I'm suppose to take it easy for a week to let those little ones attach themselves into my uterus. My husband has been great waiting on me hand and foot and taking care of our little man. He even baked homemade brownies because I said I was craving them. I will go in Monday morning for blood work to make sure they don't need to adjust any of my medications. Now we just wait the two weeks to be able to take an accurate pregnancy test.

All that's left to do is pray.

Babies A and B. We think A is a boy and B is a girl :)

You Got a Lumpy Butt

I would just like to say that I loathe progesterone injections.

I don't know if you've ever seen progesterone in oil, but I kind of resembles caro syrup. Try putting that into a syringe, stabbing it into your butt cheek and then trying to push that gooey thickness through the pinhole of a needle. It takes forever. And it freaking hurts!

The worst part is the sore lumpy cheeks. After the injection you have to massage the area so lumps of the oil don't form in your muscles. Well, I still have lumps. And bruises. And pain. I told my hubby today that I don't remember it being so painful last time. He said that he does. And he so kindly reminded me that is was nasty and bumpy looking too.

Ahhh, true love.


On the bright side,  I got the call today telling me to be there at 11:15 Friday with a full belly and a full bladder. We are so close!

One step closer

Friday morning I had another round of ultrasound and blood work. It was my day off from work and I thought I was doing great getting to the office at five after eight. It was nothing like that week before. There was a gazillion estrogen fueled biotches in there. I walked in and they all glared at me like they would stab me to death if I got called back before them. I didn't. But, I only waited about 20 minutes. It was a long 20 minutes though. Women stare. Hormonal women stare harder. I get it. I look like I'm sixteen. Maybe. On a good day. Everyone else usually looks like they are pushing 40.  It makes me want to scream "I am almost 27! I have been married for five years! Young people have shit ovaries too! Get over it!" Instead I just try not to let any evidence show that I already have one child, because I'm afraid they might follow me home and kidnap him. Women are crazy, but infertile women at the end of their ropes are even more crazy.

Anyway,  my BFF "J" called me back for my blood draw. She got it on the first try. These women are on their A game this year! Then she joked that I should never come in early for blood draws on Monday because they are all terrible at it after the weekend. She went on and on about how by the end of the day Monday she does much better. She was irritating me as usual and I said you know it's Friday, right? She said yes,  I'm just talking about Monday. Then, awkward silence. J and I have a lot of those moments. We just clash, ok?

She sent me back to the waiting room to wait my turn for ultrasound. B called me back. I've said before, B is my favorite nurse to talk to, but I think she's my least favorite for ultrasound. She's just not that good at it and she really wrenches on a girls vagina. And she always explains what I'm seeing like I'm a moron and then we have the weird moment when I remind her I'm an ultrasound tech and I know what the hell a bladder looks like. She told me she was looking for an endometrium measurement of over 8mm. I was at 10 mm. Perfect fatty lining! Right ovary looked good. Then she spent five minutes searching for my left ovary until I reached down and pushed on my pelvis and it popped into view. I was a little full of poop. It just needed a little shove out of the way. I was getting impatient watching her struggle and I'm pretty sure I was going to need stitches if she searched any more. That one looked good and she sent me on my way to wait for the afternoon instructions after she apologized for taking so long. 

*Side note* I should throw out there that I'm always sweet as pie to these people whether they annoy the piss out of me or not. The future of my family is in these nurses hands. I strongly believe if they don't like you, you don't get pregnant.

Later in the afternoon I got my phone call. Estrogen, progesterone, LH and FSH all looked great and there was no need to come in for any further testing. I am to keep taking estradiol three times daily, wear the vivelle dot patch, start amoxicillin three times a day, and start 2 cc of progesterone in oil injections daily. They will call on Wednesday to tell me what time to be in their office down state on Friday for the transfer. My little baby Blastocysts will be thawed on Friday morning. 

So all has been going well. Very well. This has been so much easier than the fresh cycle. Although, I'm still not sure I could ever do it again. I can't help but worry that the thawing process will not go well and it will all be over just like that. I'm pretty sure if my phone rings at all Friday morning my heart will stop. All I can do is pray that they make it, and I sure am going to spend the next four days doing a lot of it.

So nice of you to join us, Aunt Flow.

My monthly, uh, every few monthly friend decided to show her ugly face on Thursday afternoon. Needless to say, I didn't get an A+ on following bodily commands and I didn't get to have my baseline labs and ultrasound on Wednesday. It probably was for the better though since I ended up puking my guts out all day Wednesday and spent the next couple of days willing myself not to shart.

So, my baseline testing was moved to Friday morning instead. (Which also changed my one week followup testing to the Friday after and I already have the day of from work. Which means, I don't have to come up with another lie to tell my coworkers for why I need more time off. One more small victory for me biotch!) Anyhow, it all turned out perfectly. I was the only patient who's uterus did not follow directions so I was the only one to show up for testing that morning. Blood draw was first, and I was dreading it because not only do they usually blow the first vein and then mangle my hand to get blood out of me after threatening to take it from my chest or feet, but throwing up and pooping yourself leaves you dehydrated and a tad difficult to draw. Yay me. But, I got the nurse who is the best at drawing blood! First try, antecubital! Really, yay me!!

Then super blood drawer herded me into the exam room to do the ultrasound. I secretly panicked a little because if my uterus didn't follow simple when to start your period instructions, why would my endometrial lining follow "how thick you should be" instructions? They want your endometrium to be under 5mm, and mine was 4mm. Check me out, all normal and stuff. Both ovaries were free of cysts and nurse said as long as my labs came back where they needed to be I would start more medications that afternoon.

Since I was out of there in record time I had some time to kill before work. I had begged a casual to pick up half a day for me and couldn't just show up early and tell her to beat it. So, I walked around target for too long, put too many things in my cart, put most of them back and then left without remembering what I really had wanted. Pampers swaddlers SIZE 4!! I was in heaven when I got the email saying they were going to start carrying swaddlers in sizes 4 and 5 at Target only and was pretty excited to try them out. Plus, if you buy 2 boxes you get a $20 gift card. I'm pretty lucky to say that was my only real disaster of the day I guess.

I got the call from my favorite nurse to talk to on the phone later that afternoon with medication instructions. I got to start Estradiol three times a day and start wearing a vivelle dot patch. Basically, I get to pump myself full of my BFF estrogen for the next week. Let us recall that the urologist blamed high estrogen levels for my kidney stones. Fingers crossed we don't have to go down that pot hole road again.

Over the next week my endometrium should be bulking up to a chunky 10mm. Let's try and follow some simple orders this time, shall we uterus?

Oh yeah, and holy fricken mood swings. Watch out baby boy and hubby.

Wait! Is that....nope.

I finished my birth control pills on Saturday night. And now I wait for my period to start. No pressure, but they would like it to start by tomorrow so I can come in Wednesday morning for baseline ultrasound and blood work. It's all a big waiting game. And a forcing game. Forcing your body to do things that for some reason it doesn't want to do.

Waiting for your period to start during and IVF/FET cycle is kind of like waiting for your period to start when you don't want to be pregnant. You are tuned into every single little twinge in your body. I have had cramping since the Lupron injection on Wednesday. Today at work while I was trying to pretend to be interested in my patients story about her adorable 50 pound golden retriever, I couldn't help but feel a little twinge in my uterus. I just knew that it was the contraction that was going to flood my panty liner full of blood!! I politely cut dog lady off with a "you don't have a blood clot, now get the hell out of here" and all but knocked a slow old man over on my mad dash to the bath room 6 miles away. I thought about taking my cell phone with me to call the office mid pee and tell them I started! Yay! Not yay. No blood. Damn it. I was so sure this time. It was nothing like the first three times earlier in the day. But then...there was a little speck of blood on the toilet paper. Oh wait, that's just red fuzz. Damn red underwear.  And an hour later I was positive I started because I felt like I peed myself. Rush to bathroom, pull down undies, get out mircroscope...nope. Sweat? Really?! Give me break, I was really swamped today and it was really hot in the exam rooms all day. And I had been sprinting to the bathroom every three minutes.

I'm taking a break from letting these period thoughts consume my life tonight. Maybe go suck some boogies out of a little nose, watch some Bubble Guppies, and enjoy a braless night. I can't let this drive me crazy. Besides, it'll probably start in my sleep. As we speak, my legs and lower back are killing me. That's always a sure sign of period day number one!!

Just a Little Poke

I was at the IVF office bright and early on Monday morning. Actually, it was freezing and windy, no sun in sight.  Doctor was running late because of icy roads. 

First up was the sonohysterogram. This happened to be my third one, I'm an old pro. They really aren't that bad. Everything looked "perfect". It turns out little man left my uterus in working order during his delivery. So, anatomically, there is nothing holding us back from embryo transfer in a few weeks. I actually heard doctor mutter "that was easy" while he was sliding the catheter into my uterus. I usually would be offended after being called easy, but easy isn't a word thrown loosely around in an IVF lab so I'll take it.  In fact, I'm damn proud of my easy cervix.

Next, I was sent in with my least favorite nurse, J. She is always perfectly nice to me, and she was actually the one to call and give me the news that I was pregnant with little man, but for some reason she just rubs me wrong. I can't put my finger on it, but I prefer the other nurses in the office. When she gave me the "big fat positive" (what a positive pregnancy test is commonly referred to in the infertility world) call, she told me congratulations and then said I was really hoping yours would be positive. Umm, ok. As in, there are other women you can't wait to tell their dreams are once again crumbling down around them. Odd. Anyway, she was going to be the one to teach me how to do my Lupron injection since I'm an alumni at self injections. I think I've mentioned before that this is an $800 injection. I only get one chance to get it right. No pressure or anything. So, she explained how to do the injection and took our consents to thaw our two little embryos. 

It turns out, because our embryos were frozen at a later stage, they will not be thawed out until the morning of the transfer. J kindly reminded me that it is possible that neither will survive the thawing process and in that case they will call me before we get to the office and there will be no need for us to come in. Thanks, negative Nancy. I had been doing pretty good at thinking all positive thoughts. Now I can't get that scenario out of my mind. It's almost a two hour drive down the main office where all procedures are done and all I can think about not is getting the phone call that we have no surviving embryos so we might as well just turn around and do home empty handed, ugh, empty uterused? Great. 

I ended the visit by handing over a major credit card to pay in advance for the embryo transfer I was now certain was never going to happen. Always a pleasure, J.

Wednesday night I got to come home from work and give myself the Lupron injection locked in my bathroom with little man and hubby running around outside the door. 

This is what a dual chamber Lupron Depot Syringe looks like. Cuddly, huh?

 

I had people to feed and butts to change, so there wasn't time for dilly dallying. I carefully and quickly mixed the dual chamber Lupron syringe, swabbed my cheek in a spot I assumed had some muscle somewhere under the fat with alcohol and proceeded to stab myself with the needle. Not painful at all. I must still have a tough butt from all the previous injections from my first go around. Medication went in smoothly, I pulled the needle out, and blood everywhere! Yup, I'm still quite the bleeder. My little white bathroom looked a little like a murder seen. I also knocked the mirror I propped up the toilet so I could see where I was poking over during the process. I held my breath as I watched it fall knowing it would shatter and curse my last chance at a baby. I had made up my mind that I was calling the office and calling it off before it even hit the tiles. But, then it crashed to the ground...and it was still in one piece!  Maybe I am lucky after all. Maybe it is part of God's plan to give our little man a sibling, or two. Big fat positive or not, we are already blessed with a beautiful, healthy son. But, I'm not going to let negative Nancy can't get me down. I'm going to start pinning on my secret "second pregnancy board" now because out of all the why would it works, there are just as many why wouldn't it works. No use in walking around all doom and gloom.

Here we go Again.

Well, it's that time again.

We are ready to take on that bitch, infertility, and give our beautiful, healthy little boy a sibling. He is seventeen months old and quickly becoming a spoiled rotten little thing. My husband and I have decided that it is time to give him a little brother or sister to share mommy and daddy with.

We met with our reproductive endocrinologist at the start of November to get the ball rolling. I went into the appointment not too sure of what we were getting ourselves into. It turns out a frozen embryo transfer seems so much simpler than the first go around since we do not have to go through the ovulation induction and egg retrieval. We already know that we have two embryos on ice, or liquid nitrogen if you want to get all technical, patiently waiting for us to come back for them.

So after some thyroid labs, off we went to wait 35 days for my period to not show up, as usual. Called the office on day 35 to schedule my next set of labs- pregnancy test. Later that day, I received the call from the office that I was indeed, not pregnant and to start taking birth control pills on December 23rd. Ironic isn't it?

A couple of weeks ago I got the go ahead to order all of my cycle medications through mail order. $1,200 later I got my big ole box of drugs via Fedex. Complete with a big stash of needles and my very own biohazard sharps container! Yay. Thanks, insurance, for covering most of the cheaper meds except for my ONE injection of Lupron (which I got at a steal for $800) what would I do without you?

This morning I began taking Vibramycin to insure I do not get an infection from my mock transfer scheduled for tomorrow morning. I always feel so lovely on antibiotics. In the morning I get to have the  sonohysterogram to insure all my mommy parts are in anatomical working order after delivery of my handsome son. Speculum in vagina, catheter through cervix, sterile water injected into uterus, all during a vaginal ultrasound. Beautiful way to start any morning, really.

Assuming all goes well, and labs continue to look good, and our little babysicles survive the thawing process, the embyro transfer should take place on February 8th. Holy crap am I nervous.

This is our absolute last chance at biological children. I can not physically, emotionally, or financially put myself through another full blown IVF cycle. The first one really took a toll on my then 24 year old body, and now two years later, I still feel about 63. On a good day. The high estrogen induced by IVF meds last time are believed to have caused my kidney stones and gallstones. I had my gallbladder removed when our son was 6 weeks old, and have felt physically ill since that day. No one seems to know why, but I feel that avoiding putting my body through the stress of ovulation induction again is important to my health.

Our doctor has faith that the FET is going to have a positive outcome. He says that the odds are as good as a fresh cycle as they are with a frozen cycle. As long as our little ice ice babies survive thawing. He is confident that at least one of the two will. I believe that part is in Gods hands only. So, please God, give our little ones some toasty warmth and bring them healthy and happy to where they belong, in our arms.

Just call me Myrtle. Infertile Myrtle.

"You have zero percent chance of getting pregnant."

Inhale.

It's not like I haven't felt heartbroken before. When I was a little girl, I had dreams. Expectations.  I grew up with happily married parents who were high school sweethearts and married at 18. 

I expected to have some boy fall madly in love with me and meet me at the altar while the ink was still wet on my diploma. When so called head over heels boy ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it, I changed my expectations. It took time but I realized through this heartache that I deserved to be respected and loved like I was the only girl in the world. Then, I fell in love with a boy who gave me those things. He turned into the man I married not at 18, but at 21, and the ink was barely dried on my college degree. Close enough. Heart healed. 

I expected to have all the most important people to me near by and smiling on my wedding day. Little girls imagine this day all the time. I just replaced the groom with whatever teen heart throb was on the cover of Tiger Beat that week. When I finally had that sparkly engagement ring on my finger and had the love of my life's face to put in my imagination wedding day, I had to face the fact that my grandfather was not going to make it to that day. I had always had a special bond with my grandpa and he was always there dancing in my wedding dreams. On a cold fall night I was there saying goodbye to  one of my favorite men. As he took his last breath, I felt like he had taken mine with him. Seriously, lungs of fire, heart crushed. My fiance was there with a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on. And on our wedding day he filled my heart so full of love that I had no room left for sorrow or self pity. Grandpa would have been proud of me and the man I married. Heart healed.

I expected to have a career that I loved and the financial stability that went along with it. Not many 21 year old women have that these days, but I did. I loved my job....and I loved my pay check. Then the economy went south. Numbers were low. I was let go. Again, Heart break. I was so tired of heart break. It was the day before I was meeting my husband out of state for a sunny vacation. I. could. not. stop. crying. Not only was my life ruined, but so was my husbands. I had no idea what I was going to do. My husband did. Get on the plane. Fly down south. Act like nothing changed. Have fun. Go home. Search for a job. Life moves on. He will take care of me. Six months later, with a very supportive man in my corner, I found a new job. Heart healed.

I expected to give my husband children. I expected to be a mommy. Now, after three years of trying to start a family this damn doctor is breaking my heart. "You have zero percent chance of getting pregnant." this is a whole new world of heartache.  Never mind that I had taken literally over 100 pregnancy tests over the past two years. Never mind that I had been poked and prodded and shot up with dye. Never mind the nights I cried myself to sleep because I was so lost in my need to have a baby. Never mind the days in Walmart when I caught myself staring at all the babies and all the extremely pregnant women waddling around and it took everything I had not to drop to the floor in the fetal position and beg God to make me disappear. Never mind whispering to my sisters newborn baby that I wished he could be mine for just one day. Never mind convincing myself that my husband hated me for not being able to give him a child. This was worse. My heart was in pieces on the floor. I'm pretty sure the doctor held my lungs in his hands squeezing like his life depended on it.  I could see he was still talking. I couldn't comprehend the words. It sounded like I was under water. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. God, I couldn't breathe. But, then he said "We will do IVF. I guarantee I will get you pregnant". Out of all my dreams, I never had that one. A strange man insisting he can get me pregnant, with my husband standing by. Awkward. He had my attention now.

The next months were terrible. Filled with self injections, medications, ultrasounds, blood work, egg retrieval, growing embryos and embryo transfer. Not to mention, thousands and thousands of dollars that we didn't really have. And doubt, Lord was there doubt. We doubted that God would want us to do IVF. I doubted that it would work. I doubted I could get through it physically. The medications made it so hard to breathe. God, why was it so hard to breathe lately?? On egg retrieval day they got 19 eggs from my ovaries. Only 15 were mature. Only 9 were fertilized by my husbands "best men".  After five days of growing in a test tube, four embryos were healthy enough to transfer to my uterus. We decided to transfer two. I laid there with a painfully full bladder, ultrasound probe pressing on pelvis, doctor threading 5,342 feet of catheter into my uterus, hand in hubby's hand, and watched my two little specks move into my uterus. It's all very romantic. I wish we had candles in retrospect. Maybe some rose petals. Definitely a few more med students huddled around us. Then it was over. Doctor handed us our first picture of our children (a picture of the embryos under the microscope) and said "I've done everything I can, it's in Gods hands now." 

Aren't they precious?

Then we waited. 12 days. Blood work every other day. By the way, needles are nothing now. I can inject progesterone oil into my my cheeks without a flinch, eyes closed. Pick a cheek, any cheek. I talked to my babies all the time. I prayed that they were ok. I loved them every second of every day. I prayed some more. God knows how much I prayed. Then I got the call. I. was. PREGNANT! I couldn't stop laughing. Who does that??? It turned out that only one baby had made it. I was again heart broken for my lost little baby, but I still had one child growing inside of me. Take that, Infertility!

Heart healed, right? 

Not quite. I'm a bitter girl. I try not the be, really. But even though I finally became a mother, I still feel an ache in my heart when I hear another girl got pregnant (without even trying, her boyfriend just looked at her and POW, pregnant). I still feel like my heart stops when I think about having a second child. It is not a guarantee. My husband can't just pump me full of margaritas, take advantage of me and be holding a newborn 9 months later. It takes months of medication, thousands of dollars, tests, and procedures to maybe get pregnant. I worry that it's selfish of me to want another biological child when God has already blessed us with one. 

This is one heartache that I never expected, and it never completely goes away. Infertility is a cold hearted bitch if you ask me. 

But, guess what? I can breathe now. Because this ridiculously handsome little man calls me Mama.

So, heart healed? Yes. But, definitely scarred for life. 

Exhale.