Out of all the photos we took in Nebraska Jay loved one the most. To me it was unflattering, I was in the process of deleting it from my phone when Jay said “no that is my favorite photo, it’s so genuine.” You can imagine the look I gave him, I immediately pointed out my double chin and how this photo made my look heavy. He told me I was beautiful (he’s a smart man) and that he loved this photo because it shows pure happiness.

I let this photo sit on my phone. From time to time I’d go to it and just look at it. After awhile I stopped focusing on my chubby chin (thank you lymph node and saliva gland removal) and noticed how happy I was in this moment. Sure I was suffering from terrible period cramps (a reminder that I was no longer pregnant), but this photo doesn’t show that, it shows a woman living in the moment, smiling at who knows what. Oh smiling because she was about to burst into a full laugh because Jay was playing photographer.
These are the moments we live for. Moments of pure joy amongst the mundane. These moments chase away the darkness and bring in the light. Our smiles no matter how chubby the chin chases away the darkness and brings light into our hearts. This photo doesn’t show a woman with a broken heart struggling to bring home a child of her own. This photo doesn’t show a woman who has three babies in heaven, it is proof that Love and Joy always prevail. That I have a choice, a choice to grieve or grieve while living the best life I possibly can.
I will never get over the death of my babies, those little ones will always be a part of me. Just as I am a part of them. I live this life for Lucia, Baby E, and Emmet. My boys are the reason behind my strength, my faith, my joy, and my eternal happiness. I chose happy because I know that is what my sons want for me, a lifetime of happiness.
As the blizzard poured down around me I looked out the window and remembered that the doctor said Snow Pea’s results would be in on Friday. Friday went without word, so I logged in to my online chart, “1 new message” it said. I held my breath, my heart raced, I knew what the message was. It was the answer, the answer that Jay and I had been waiting for. It took a while for the words to sink in, “normal (46 chromosomes) XY.”
As I walked through the skyway my phone rang. It was a number I have seen hundred of time and I instantly answered with worried hope. It was Park Nicollet, the genetic counselor was calling me to go over my test results. She informed me in a cheery voice that I was genetically normal, I have no deletions or translocations, my chromosomes are perfect. She went on to say that Jay was perfectly normal too and that our risk for an abnormal embryo is .00004%. Which means Jay and I are capable of creating normal embryos and I should be carrying a baby to term. Which is maddening because our baby died. We put two embryos in and only got one very wanted baby.
Right now this loss doesn’t make sense. Going into this I knew I could walk away with empty arms. I pushed that risk down to the bottom and filled my heart with hope. Jay and I had won the battle, with a positive test in hand we beat infertility. My prayers had been answered and God spared us a miracle that cannot be replaced. Everything I went through no longer mattered when I saw the heart flicker. Week by week I got to see our beautiful baby grow on the ultrasound screen. Little ears, a tiny nose, and hands, were all there clear as day. The baby’s heart was strong and everything looked great. I was graduated from the fertility clinic to our Perinatal And OB doctors. We were having a baby and not just any baby, but a super fancy science baby.
A week from today I was going to share our pregnancy news with everyone. I had plans of taking a photo of a onesie that said “my first baby sitter was an embryologist” surrounded by all of the needles used during IVF. This would have been a striking photo to prove to the world that against all odds, we persisted. That photo has yet to be taken, it’s just an idea that will never come to be.



The moment I have been prepping for is nearly here. All of the injections, blood draws, scans, pills and whatever else I have been through have lead me to this moment. To this very moment motherhood is only one embryo transfer away. It’s strange to think about. I walk in not pregnant and will walk out a few hours later pregnant until proven otherwise.