Good morning, Baby!!
These last couple weeks have been such an amazing whirlwind. I feel like the luckiest mama in the world.
I just KNEW you were waiting for me in Encino. I just knew everything would turn out perfectly fine. And it did, and for the first time in this incredibly long journey, you are with me. I can talk to you every day.
Dr. Landay called me the morning of the 27th. Our Good embryo had become a fully hatched blastocyst, there were four others hatching, and two others that were a tiny bit behind their siblings, but even they looked healthy and promising. Not only were we going to transfer, but at that time, we’d have anywhere between four and six additional little munchkins to put in storage for second chances or siblings.
(The final tally was six. We transferred you, and we have five healthy siblings in cryogenic storage for later.)
This transfer was by far the easiest part of this entire process. Everything went smoothly, and Dr. Landay got you perfectly positioned inside my uterus. The rest was up to you, and you, Baby, are a superhero.
I started cramping a bit that night as you were snuggling in and getting comfortable. Just a bit, nothing that I couldn’t pass off as side effects from the procedure. The next day, Tuesday, I didn’t really feel much of anything, but Wednesday morning I woke up so dizzy the room was spinning and I was afraid to walk downstairs. And my allergies were raging. I couldn’t stop sneezing and my nose was running nonstop.
I had felt like this a few times before – during all the biochemicals and early miscarriages. But I KNEW this was going to be different. You were strong – the strongest of your siblings, the first to develop, and the only one fully hatched and actually waiting on us the morning of the transfer. I know you wanted this as badly as your daddy and me.
I waited four days to test, which from what I’ve read is the absolute earliest anything will show up on an HPT, and only if you implanted the day of the transfer. Which you must have, because while faint, that unmistakable second line was right there.
I knew you were with me Friday, August 31. I told you great things happen for your daddy and me in August.
I showed your daddy the test, but I woke him up, and he didn’t have his glasses on, and he didn’t exactly know what he was looking at. But over the next couple days as that second line got darker and darker, and I started getting super exhausted and even more lightheaded, even he was convinced. We finally had our miracle rainbow baby growing inside of me.
Our first beta test was the following Wednesday, and you knocked it out of the park. 341. Two days later it was 605, then 1442. I called your Bo and she was so happy, she started crying right in the middle of an El Paso Target.
I’m pregnant. It’s so magical and wonderful and just saying those words gives me such joy. I’m pregnant, and your daddy and I will get to meet you in a little over 34 weeks. You are our miracle.
I already know so many things about you. I know you are super strong and independent. I know that you are healthy, and right now you’re about the size of an orange seed. And I know that you don’t have much of a sweet tooth, because I haven’t wanted sweets of any kind since the transfer.
Or coffee. I guess you’re finally going to be the one who gets this mama to kick her coffee habit.
Most of all, I know that you are so incredibly loved. Not just by me and your daddy, but by your Nana and Pappy, and your Bo and Sharkey, and by all of your aunts and uncles and cousins. Your daddy and I are so incredibly lucky to have so many people in our lives who love us, and by extension, you. We may not all be related by blood, but genetics don’t matter. We are family.
Welcome to ours.
Love always,
Your Mama
My Stork Got Lost 