The first three IVF cycles we went through (March 2013, 1 embryo transferred, June 2013, 3 embryos transferred, February 2014, 1 blastocyst embryo transferred) each held their own level of pain, anticipation, excitement, and in the end, grief. We cried and we mourned the loss of each embryo, each baby, each new dream. And there were eight years of prayer, hope, and three IUI treatments that led us to the point of even trying IVF in the first place.
And now, with a little blueberry-sized baby DeAtley growing in my belly, we are standing in a place of grace we had wondered if we’d ever get to experience. It’s hard to communicate what it feels like, after all these years, to have this dream, this 12-year prayer for a miracle unfolding into a reality.
The shots aren’t over yet. There are still about 6 more weeks of 2/day shots, but we know that they’re worth it this time. The pain, the questioning if we should move forward or give up, the pokes and prods, the tests, the expense, the travels to and from out-of-town appointments, the fear of the unknown, the recovery, the surviving on hope, the fight to keep going, the ups and downs, the disappointments, the determination, the throwing up on the side of the highway because of side effects from meds, the isolation, the emotions, the surgeries, the prayers, the struggle, the tears, the needles, the wait, the risk … it’s all worth it now.