One year later...

I can't believe that one year ago, I had my transfer. Two tiny embryos were transferred, one of which is now my son. It blows my mind every time I look at him, hold him, hear him breathe, cry, or laugh. I was starting to believe that maybe my SIL was right...that maybe I shouldn't have any more kids. Maybe I was a horrible mother and I didn't deserve to have any more children. But I knew in my heart that I was a great mother, and that my daughter was a happy kid. And that I wanted to at least try to do everything I could to give her a sibling. It was such a hard choice to go ahead and do IVF. I had said, less than a year before, that if IUIs didn't work, that I didn't want to go down that road. That if it wasn't working, then maybe it wasn't meant to be. Until the insurance company denied our IUIs, and we had no other options. If I didn't at least try, I'd regret it forever. If I didn't at least try, I'd never forgive myself. So, try we did. And we were successful. It still shocks and amazes me.

I remember sitting in my house, after my transfer, on bed rest. Wondering what was going to happen next. Wondering if it would work, or how many more times I could go through it IVF if it didn't. Unsure of what I'd do if it didn't work. Unsure of how it would be if it did. Every night when my husband did the PIO shots, I hoped that it would help things work. At my friend's wedding, I was matron of honor, and it was in a catholic church. I am Jewish, but for some reason I felt compelled to just sit there and pray. Prayed that these babies or baby held on. Prayed that I would come out of this a stronger person. Prayed that I'd have a baby in my arms by this time next year. Prayed that I'd be OK if I didn't. I had never done that before. After the wedding, we went on our vacation, and a few days in, I took my first of several HPTs that came up with two lines. I still remember the feeling when I POAS, set it down, looked at it and thought it was negative. Put picked it up and looked at it in the light and there it was, clear as day...a second line. I remember telling my mom, and having her tell me that it was too early to know for sure...that she hoped it was real, but if it wasn't that she'd be there.

This past year has been both the worst and best of my life. IVF was horrible. And I only had to do it once. I don't know that I could have done it more than once. It took it's toll on me, my husband, and our marriage. It changed me forever. Yet I am so grateful to have my son, and know it never would have been possible without IVF. How something so awful can bring such joy in the end, I'll never fully comprehend.

Now, I sit here. My son is sick and he's sleeping on the sofa. I look at him every few minutes and see him sleeping peacefully. I use his neb, rock him and sing to him while he cries, and do everything I can to make him feel better. Because I'm his mom, and that's my job. I had always wondered if I could ever love another human being as much as I love my daughter. Celia is my pride and joy. And now, that Seth is here, I know the answer to that is absolutely yes. I love my son so much more than I ever thought possible. In such a different way than I love my daughter. They both hold my heart in their hands, and my life would not be the same without either one of them. I am so incredibly lucky to have them, and I look forward to the next years. And every year, around my birthday, I'll remember the day that my son was transferred, and decided to make himself a home.