I couldn’t get pregnant the way that I always thought that I would – the old fashioned way.  After many invasive tests, we never found the reason why.  My husband and I both seemed to be perfectly healthy, yet my doctor felt that *something* wasn’t right even if he couldn’t figure out what it was.  We began treatment anyway.  Two failed rounds of IUI (you know, the turkey baster method) I insisted that we move on to IVF despite the high cost and despite my doctor’s recommendation to try IUI one more time.  I wanted my baby and I wanted it right then.  IUI wasn’t working, so bring on the big guns.

Darby's first photo

I went through the weeks of injections and daily ultrasounds and blood tests; my egg retrieval; a week in bed dealing with Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome; and finally the big day.  The transfer day.  The first attempt to insert the embryo didn’t work.  The embryo was stuck in the tube.  My doctor sent it back to the lab and tried again. That time the little bugger let go.  It was in.

Fast forward to one year ago today.  The day of my pregnancy test; the last official day of my first IVF cycle.  Would the weeks of giving myself injections pay off?  The daily ultrasounds and blood tests?  The physical and emotional stress?  I took a sick day from work.  No matter the results I knew there would be tears and I knew the whole day would be focused on whether or not it was time for me to be a mom.

I went in for my blood test early that morning and came home to wait.  Finally I got the call.  My nurse said to me, “I’ve got your results.  Congratulations!  You’re pregnant!”  The room went dark.  I asked her if she was serious.  She giggled and assured me that she was.  Then she said it again, “You’re pregnant!”  I was shaking.  “Oh my gosh!  Oh my gosh!  Oh my gosh!” is all I kept saying as she giggled on the other end of the phone.  She gave me some instructions, none of which I heard.  I hung up the phone and fell face first into my bed and wept tears of joy.  Is this really over?  Am I really going to be a mom?  I got myself together and called Mike.  He said “hello” and I broke down again.  He had gotten similar calls in the past – me weeping on the other end – but they were always sad tears accompanying bad news.  He didn’t say anything.  Through my tears I mustered the strength to say, “It was positive.”  I don’t remember what he said exactly.  I remember him choking back tears too.  He was at work, after all; he had to be cool.  He sounded like he was in shock; happy joyous shock.  I got off the phone and paced around laughing.  I shouted at the dog, “I’M HAVING A BABY!”  She thought she was in trouble for something.  I ran and did a home pregnancy test.  I wanted to see those double lines for myself.  There they were!  I immediately emailed a photo to Mike.

I emailed my nurse to tell her I heard none of her instructions on the phone, so she sent them to me.  I went in for a few ultrasounds to make sure the pregnancy was progressing as it should.  We saw the sack where Darby would live for the next nine months.  Eventually we saw her little heart beating.  A tiny flicker.  Life.  Inside of me. Is this really happening?

Now I’ve got my baby girl.  My beautiful chubby curious little girl who is the spitting image of her daddy.  I think back to that transfer day – that was Darby stuck in that tube!

One year ago today I found out she was coming into my world.  One year ago today I found out I was going to be someone’s mommy.  In many ways, that was the first day of the rest of my life.  Everything from that day forward would be more happy and more difficult than I could imagine – and I was ready for every bit of it.

We had almost a year worth of failed pregnancy attempts (a much easier ride than many dealing with infertility).  Sometimes I think about who those babies would have become.  I’ll never know; I do know that while they probably would’ve been wonderful people, they weren’t Darby.   In my few months with her, I know that she was worth every bit of the wait.