After getting over the initial “OMG! It worked!” feeling, the nerves started to settle in and there was an internal struggle of wanting to finally be happy and waiting for the other shoe to drop…yet again.

As the weeks went by and my weekly trips to the RE were confirming time and time again that this was indeed a viable pregnancy, I started to find room in my mind for acceptance.  Acceptance that sometimes things really can and do work out.  Perhaps it was the awful morning sickness, which in all fairness to pregnant women should have its named changed.  Morning? Ha.  Try all day.  Nausea doesn’t wear a watch people! Every time I would find myself on my knees in the bathroom, hair pulled back, sweat dripping down my face mixed with tears, I would think “this is a good sign.” I slowly started adding words into my vocabulary like fetus. It was getting more real and more safe as each day went on.

When October turned into November we geared up for the biggest moment in our baby’s life to date… the search for the heartbeat.  We were nervous, excited, you name it.  Let me tell you this. There is no sound as amazing as hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the very first time.  Nothing.  Even better than “Gu-gung, gu-gung” from Dirty Dancing.   When the Doctor found her heartbeat and confirmed it was active and healthy that was the moment I accepted it.  I WAS PREGNANT. I soon was able to use those words in a sentence.  The feeling was like no other.

For those of you who have “been there. done that” you understand.  So many rounds of failure and heartache, it is hard to allow yourself to be excited or look positively towards anything.  I get it.  Take your time.  One day, one doctor appointment, one ultrasound at a time.  Whatever works for you.