I saw my baby as a tiny ray of brilliant white light, float into the comforting and peaceful darkness that is the womb of my gestational carrier.  It was such a moving experience.  We were given a picture of our little miracle embryo, its first portrait.  It was beautiful, perfectly round, a bundle of living, growing cells that we already loved.  We watched on the sonogram screen as the doctor inserted the tube through DR’s cervix, and with a press of what I can only describe as a plunger, we saw this little white light float into the center of the dark screen.  There it was.  Our baby, in the safest most loving place we could find, even if it wasn’t inside me, I didn’t care.  Like any mother, I did everything I could to give my baby a safe, warm, and comfortable place to exist.

DR and I hugged, and I cried, thanking her, as insignificant a word it seems it was all I could muster to express my gratitude for her willingness to do this for us.  To help us bring our baby into the world.  Hubby stood near, with tears in his eyes, we even had the doctor and nurses crying with us.  In his comedic way of lightening the mood, Hubby looked down at DR’s sweet face and said, “I’ll hug you as soon as you have your pants on.”  Through teary eyes we laughed and from that moment on, we gave it over to God.  It was out of our hands.  We know God does for those who do for themselves and we had done everything we could do, and now it was up to God.  I prayed a different prayer this time.  I prayed for mercy, and I prayed for forgiveness for my lack of faith.  I turned my destiny completely over to Him, lifted my hands in surrender, and let God do his will.

Ten days of a torturous wait followed.  Even DR was growing frustrated with impatience.  All I could tell her was that this is how it is with IVFs.  It’s part of the heartache.  It’s what makes this process so difficult.  We continued her medication.  MR gave her a shot of progesterone every night in the form of a 2 inch, 27 gauge needle in the backside.  Every time she took the shot I was amazed she was willing to do this for me, happily taking on this enormous responsibility and burden.  She was overjoyed to do it, although the wax progesterone suppositories she could do without.  Imagine the feeling of sitting in mud all day.  It’s an uncomfortable mess only a woman can appreciate.  But even this she did without much complaint.  Day ten arrived and we were ready to hear our fate.

I picked up DR early in the morning and drove us both up to the clinic for her blood pregnancy test.  It was a Wednesday, September 5^th.  Wednesday is the day the clinic doctors and nurses have their weekly staff meeting.  It’s an all day meeting where they discuss every patient and every case.  We were warned that the results may come in early but no one will be available to make the call until closer to 4pm.  What a torturous day this would be.  How was I going to get passed each hour, each minute without pulling my hair out in anticipation?  The receptionist told us it would be no later than 4pm and to try to distract myself.  She also told me to claim this, say it is true in God’s name, and then give it to God and let it go.  Believe.  That was her advice to me, believe.  So we left, and I believed.  I relaxed myself, knowing I had left no stone unturned.  I did everything I could do to make this happen, we all did, so all I could do now was believe.  As I drove us back to DR’s house we passed a truck before getting on the highway.  It had large red letters printed along the side.  It was the name Hubby and I had chosen for a baby Boy.  As it passed us I said, “there goes my son.”  DR gasped and shouted that it was a sign.  I said it was just a truck, keeping my emotions caged.  I silently prayed again to God to forgive my lack of faith.  But nonetheless, there it was, a huge truck with my son’s name on it.

When we got back to DR’s house she got right to making breakfast.  She was ready to celebrate.  Her mom and the kids were there and she made coffee, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and toast.  She was making a celebratory feast with a smile from ear to ear.  She had no doubt in her mind, not an ounce of nervousness.  I just looked at her silently, giggling at her, praying she was right.  After breakfast we settled into the living room with the kids.  DR was sharpening number 2 pencils to put in the kids book bags.  I sat on the couch watching Nickelodeon shows I knew nothing about.  We weren’t expecting anything until 4pm so I nestled in and let myself relax.  I told myself I’d begin getting anxious around 3pm.  Out of nowhere, my cell phone rang and I immediately recognized the phone number.  It was only 11:30am.  I jumped up off the couch, yelled out, “THIS IS IT” and ran into the kitchen.  DR was tripping over the garbage can she was dumping the pencil shavings into and trying to frantically gather her feet to move, running after me.

The nurse on the other end of the line was the one we had been working with for months, Shameeka.  She was very invested in our story by now.  I could tell by the way she said hello that the test was positive.  The way the tone of her voice had a sing-songy up lift as she pronounced the O.  It was melodic, not the usual hard, down curved tone I was used to when a nurse would answer the phone saying hi.  I knew it was good news, but I would not let myself react until I heard her say the words.  She said, “so when is your annual end of summer party?”  I thought, is she seriously asking me about a party right now?  I put her on speaker so DR could hear her voice.  I said, “the party is on September 22^nd.”  She said, “well you have a lot to celebrate this year because you are going to be a mommy, DR is pregnant.”  There it was.  Beautiful words released in the air, light as helium balloons, yet sweet and smooth like melted caramel.  They swooped into my ears, tickling me, enticing me like a drug.  Then this involuntary shaking started.  My hands started shaking, my knees got weak, I couldn’t stand anymore.  I collapsed into DR in a bear hug, holding my phone in one hand, crying, tears spraying out of my eyes like fireworks.  These were not the heavy, streaky, salty tears I was used to.  These were the water park spraying type tears of unadulterated joy.  DR started screeching with glee, the kids were yelling out, the kitchen turned into a chaotic tornado of pure happiness.  I had the presence of mind to remember to calm myself and ask the nurse about the hormone levels, what were her numbers, what do we do now?  I was in unchartered territory, I had no idea what would come next.  Shameeka told us her Beta HcG hormone was 78 and that it was a good, strong number they were confident about.  We would have to come back to the clinic every other day to repeat bloodwork to ensure these hormone levels are increasing as they should, adjust her medication if needed, and when the number hits 1000 we will do a sonogram to see our lil miracle peanut for the first time.  She told us how our doctor was so happy for us and to celebrate and congratulated us.  I assume I thanked her and said goodbye because at some point I hung up the phone.

I sat in the chair silently for a brief moment.  Then something amazing happened.  I clenched my fists, violently shook from head to toe, and let out a primal scream, shaking my head furiously so my voice echoed off the kitchen walls.  It was as though I was releasing four years of negativity and emotion and burden.  Shaking it off me and out of me like a dog shakes water off its coat.  It was an involuntary primal animalistic reaction.  A purging of grief and pain that had been built up over four years.  When I opened my eyes the kids were looking at me like I was possessed.  I grabbed them up hugging them, crying, laughing, screaming, filling the room up with excitement.

The next thing was to call Hubby at work and tell him the great news.  He answered the phone with a timid shaky voice.  My poor husband, sitting alone in that office, waiting with the same ache of anticipation as I had been but he was alone.  I didn’t have the heart to keep it from him a nanosecond longer than I had to.  My brain flubbed out the words, “WE DID IT, SHE’S PREGNANT, YOUR GONNA BE A DADDY!”  I don’t remember what he said, or if he said anything at all.  I just heard his tears, his voice choked up with the deep gurgle of emotion coming from the back of his throat.  I don’t remember what he said.  I just remember feeling connected to him over the phone as he wept.  I called my mother next and then my father.  Both of whom were at work.  My mother was frantic in telling DR and I to calm down, as if she were worried the chemicals we were releasing from our excitement would affect the baby.  My father sobbed.  A hearty gurgled sob through which he was thanking DR and telling us both that he loved us.  Desperately but fruitlessly trying to get himself together.  Just let it go Dad.  He deserved that purging of negativity and sorrow as much as I did.  We could all finally release it, let it go, and let the joy flow in.  I called my brother, uncle, cousin, aunts, and friends after that.  Everyone I knew who was a part of our journey and had a vested interest in this pregnancy and a love for us and our baby was notified.  DR was making her phone calls too.  It took us about 2 hours to make a series of 1 minute phone calls, letting everyone know the good news.  Some people were crying with joy, some people were cautious and reserved.  Everyone was ultimately happy for us.

Truly we all witnessed a miracle.  This tiny little embryo, the weakest of the three we had, the little engine that could, absorbed all the love my husband and I and DR and everyone we knew poured into it, and came to life.  My egg donor, DR my carrier, her husband MR, my husband, and I came together in the perfect way at the perfect time, and with God, created a life.  There is no bigger miracle than that.