Tag Archives: Baby E

{Emmett James} Asleep in Heavenly Peace

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In my heart I knew this day was coming. I watched the days tick by as the months moved forward on the calendar. March 5, 2018 you were born into this world sleeping and my heart was broken once more. Emmett James you left this world with more love than your soul could ever handle. You were wanted. You were needed; yet God our God needed you more.

My heart still wonders who you would have been. Would you look like your mama with a head full of curls or would you have your dad’s eyes. Would you giggle at your muppet like dog or would you frown when Dexter’s tail crossed your face. Would you have your Grandmas wrapped around your finger or would you be toddling after your Papa with eyes filled with wonder. I dream of the outfits you never got to wear and the steps you never got to take.

I dream of the life you never got to live. Emmett my dear you were cheated and so were we. We were cheated out of a lifetime together and because of that our hearts will be forever broken. Your life though short taught us to have faith and to believe in miracles. You my son were the child that we had prayed for and you were worth the struggle. Our baby you will always be.

Emmett’s turtles were thrown in Lake Superior

I walk this earth with a broken heart; because three piece of it rest in heaven. Apart of me was jealous when you left. Jealous because you got to meet your brothers before I did. I have no doubt that Lucia and Baby E were waiting for you and now you are the big three causing trouble in heaven. I can only imagine what you three are up to. This life I live is for you and I will carry you with me for all of my days. My babies you will always be.

Emmett’s beach

If I had to do this all over again; we would always choose you Emmett James. You are ours and we are forever yours. Our baby you will always be.

{Infertile Me} Wave of Light

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This is my battle cry “I AM A PARENT!” And no one can ever take that away from me. My womb has been a place of life and a silent tomb. Three babies I have carried, their hearts beat in the same rhythm as mine, and when their hearts fell silent, a part of mine died too.

I walk this earth with a broken heart. On May 13, 2010, I gave one piece back to God, his name was Alucious Gregory. On July 7, 2015, I gave a second piece back to God, his name is Baby E. On March 5, 2018, I gave a third piece back to God, his name is Emmett James. I myself wonder how I can still stand, how I can still move, and mostly how my heart still beats. I have one piece left and she beats on, for her sons need her to be strong.

Strong for the moments when she tears up and utters “there should be five,” as she watches Sophia and Jack climb hay bails. Strong for the moment when she walks through the orchard and utters “this should be Emmett’s first trip.” For the moment when she utters “Emmett’s first Halloween costume could have been Dr. Brown.” They need her to be strong when she proudly hangs Emmett’s ornament next to Lucia and Baby E’s on the tree. They need her to be strong so that she can live a life of what could be instead of a life of what ifs.

Lucia, Baby E, and Emmett need their mama to be strong for they believe that she can. Their deaths cannot be in vain, they to believe that their mama deserves a living breathing baby to spoil and love. A baby that will take the breath that they never got to breathe. A baby that will get to lay eyes upon the women they never got to call mom. A baby that will nuzzle into her neck and dream a lifetime of dreams that they never got the chance to dream.

Lucia, Baby E, and Emmett are the tiny voice that whispers, just one more step on silent nights. They are her fuel, her fuel to not give up on this dream called MOTHERHOOD. Lucia, Baby E, and Emmett are her battle cry! She is a parent to three boys, her sons they will always be. Their mother she will always be. She will light three candles, one for each of her sons, and a forth to remind her that as long as she is breathing, Hope is still alive. A reminder that she most always follow the light until she reaches the ends of time and never give up for her sons need her.

{Infertile Me} Hope Addict

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I am starting to believe that just maybe unicorns, trolls, and mermaids do exist. Lord knows I am pretty much a medical unicorn. A girl with complicated anatomy that prevents her from getting pregnant the natural way. I must have been late when God was handing out the good cervixes. Because I got the broken one that came from the bottom of the barrel. Even though she’s broken, she’s mine and I wouldn’t trade her in. She’s caused me a lot to trouble and now she’s held together with scar tissue and hope.

I’ve faxed and scanned my records to more clinics than I can count. For one reason or another all of them told me no. I drove to Green Bay and was told no. The doctor waited until that morning to look at my records. I was to complicated for him. My BMI was .3 to high for him. So he sent me packing and I was defeated. It stung, the hope that I had instantly left my body and in my heart I was done.

Four hours on the road gives you time to contemplate and to organize a plan. In that moment I wanted to walk away from all of this. Yet something in my gut told me “take one more step, one more leap, we are not done yet. We can go a little bit further.” That little embryo of ours is counting on me, counting on me to bring it into existence. Embryo #3 deserves a chance to become a baby.

You can call me a hope addict. I am addicted to hope with a dash of fear. Do I regret getting fired from CCRM Minneapolis? Nope not one bit. In m my heart I always knew CCRM was not the right place for me. I stayed because I felt held to the wall without options. Did I receive good care form CCRM? Nope, my complicated anatomy and I were treated like an inconvenience. I was a lepar in their books, I didn’t fit the mold, and no matter how much they tried my fat ass wouldn’t fit in their box. CCRM’s lab is all you really need and any qualified doctor can do a frozen embryo transfer.

I think to myself “one day Embryo #3 will read this very blog and will know how hard we fought for him or her.” When you are addictive to hope you do not know how to stop fighting. When life throws you a block you curve to the left and find a solution. Google and I have become BFFs as we search for a clinic capable of taking me and embryo #3. Somewhere out there is a doctor just waiting to put a feather in his or her cap and that doctor will say “yup I will take you on.” I will continue to scan and fax until I find them. Motherhood is something I have always dream of and I am to addicted to give up.

{Infertile Me} Emmett James 03/05/2018

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I have been trying to will the month of September to move slowly. My heart, she is not ready for the calendar to turn to the 23rd. She is not ready for that day to arrive for her womb is empty; Emmett left this world earlier than expected.

Right now Jay and I would most likely be holding Emmett in our arms and cooing over him as he looked up at us. Due dates are not concrete, we knew that I would deliver early via a planned c-section. Jay should be out in the parking lot making sure the car seat fits just right, while our mom’s are at our house making sure bottles are washed and the crib is ready. I should be posting photos of our sweet Emmett to Facebook as friends stop by to hold him. This time should be about our Emmett, a miracle that defied the odds. But it isn’t. The little embryo that could left this world all too soon.

Life she makes us strong before she gives us what we long for. Fate called Emmett home on 03/05/2018 at 11weeks 1 day, his heart it stopped at 10weeks 3 days. His story was done before the first words were written and our hearts are forever broken. Emmett was the child that we prayed for; the child that we so desperately wanted. He is our boy and we are his.

Emmett’s ultrasound photos sit in a book on Jay’s desk. In the beginning they made me sad, but now they are a reminder that he existed. That he was apart of this world and that he will forever be apart of our story. For 11weeks and 1 day he was our entire world and for that I am grateful. Our heats were filled with anticipation and awe because the little embryo that could was our baby and no one can ever take that from us. He was a 9.4 beta that turned into a heartbeat at 6weeks 1day. Even the fertility clinic was surprised by that.

When we found out that Emmett died I asked Jay if we could do a bucket list of things that we would have done had he lived. One of those items was a trip to the North Shore. On a beach just outside of Duluth we said goodbye to our son and threw two small stone turtles into the turbulent waters. The power of the lake washed over us and as tears flowed we said our goodbyes to the baby we never got to hold. I have faith that one day we will find Emmett’s turtles on the shore, the lake she will return him to us.

We chose to have Emmett James cremated and his ashes were spread in BabyLand at LakeWood Cemetery in Minneapolis. When I moved to Colfax Avenue in 2010 I had no idea that the cemetery just down the street would be the final resting place for two of my children. I walked by it and through it quite a bit. It’s a beautiful place and BabyLand has a view of Lake Calhoun a place that is near and dear to my heart. Emmett is not alone here, Baby E’s cremains we’re also laid to rest in BabyLand. I cannot bring myself to visit BabyLand it’s to painful right now but one day I will have the courage to go and put tobacco down for my sons.

The memory of my children is alive and well in our home. We have 3 Jizo statues one for each of my sons. Red for Lucia; Yellow for Baby E; and Purple for Emmett. A sign in our hallway reads “because someone we love is in heaven we have a little bit of heaven in our home.” My Dad is working on a memorial garden at the cabin with three dogwood bushes, a plant that is sacred to the Ojibway. Lucia, Baby E, and Emmett will always matter, our babies they will always be.

Emmett was proof that against all odds miracles do happen. I have no doubt that all three of my son’s will be watching over Embryo #3 for they want him/her to live the life that they never got to see.

{Emmett} Walk Boldly with Answers

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Over the past couple of months I have been checking the boxes in preparation for our upcoming transfer. I saw the hematologist, she was very informative and shared that Lovenox does in deed cross the placenta. That information was both a blessing and a curse. A curse because it could mean that Emmett’s demise was due to Lovenox. We will of course never know for sure why Emmett died, everything is in theory.

On Tuesday I met with a new perinatologist and the first question she asked me was “why were you on 80 units a day?” I honestly didn’t know. I did what the previous doctor told me to do. Although I did question the 80 units, again I was told because of my history 80 was the dose I needed. Turns out AJ doesn’t need 80 units…….she only needs 40. 40 fucking units is all I need. 80 units was to high for someone with my history and my weight. An 80 unit dose is for someone who has a clotting disorder or a BMI of 50.

Two weeks before Emmett’s heart stopped I increased the dose to 80 units. Emmett most likely bled to death, his little body couldn’t handle the Lovenox. Only Emmett knows how he died. I only know that he was genetically perfect and there is no reason for his leaving. In this moment I wish I had fought harder to change the dose. Then again I went along with what the doctor said to do and in the end it didn’t save Emmett nor did it help me.

Am I angry!? Of course I am angry. I am angry that no one would listen to me. That the doctor didn’t take a moment to really look into my history to see what and why my blood clot happened. I am angry that she shoved me into a box and pounded me until I fit the mold. In my gut I knew 80 units was to high. I should have just nodded my head and continued on with 40 instead of 80 units. If I did, maybe Emmett would still be here and I’d be seven months pregnant. I cannot go backwards, I cannot weigh the what if’s, I can only go forward, forward with a broken heart.

My heart she is broken. Yet she is relieved that someone with MD behind their name finally listened to her. We have a plan, a very good plan and with a little luck we will bring a baby home. The new Lovenox dose is 40 units a day with no increase along with a side of prednisone, baby aspirin, and anti-biotics. With a little luck this protocol will be our ticket to a take home baby.

Emmett taught me to continue to advocate for myself and to fight for what my gut knows. Just because a doctor is a doctor doesn’t mean they know everything. I am a walking talking example of “fuck, we messed up her care!” I of all people know what it’s like to be discounted and unheard. I know what it’s like to hear the words “um Im sorry but your pulmonary embolism and stroke didn’t need to happen.” I know what it’s like to be misdiagnosed and have forged a path in the aftermath. And I will not be silent, I will walk boldly with answers and I am not going to dwell on what might have been, I can only carry hope for what could be.

{Lucia & Baby E} Christmas #7 without you

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This time of year makes me both happy and sad. Happy because I get to spend time with family and friends. Plus hello I love Christmas lights and all things to do with Christmas including Movies and cookies. Now that I have a niece and nephew Christmas is even more fun because I get to experience it through the eyes of children.

Jack is two and he is adorable. He tells me “Auntie I miss you so much” and holds on tight and then asks for another Christmas cookie. On Thanks giving day I took him shopping for Christmas gifts. I watched him as we carefully walked through Walmart looking for the perfect gift for mama and nana. He thought both of them would like Thomas the train because well he is obsessed with Thomas. We settled on something that wasn’t train related and he very happily dropped them into the cart. In that moment he was having fun and didn’t realize that I was teaching him the lesson of giving. It’s better to give than receive.

Sophia is five. She lets me know she is actually 5 and 3/4 as her birthday is in January. She artfully and patiently decorated Christmas cookies while we tell her not to lick them or her hands. Because no one wants to eat grubby cookies. She twirls in the kitchen while reading off her Christmas list. Which by the way is very short. Making sure that Auntie knows what emojis are. These are moments we’ll never get back and I will cherish them for a a million years plus one day.

In these moments my heart yearns for Lucia and Baby E. Lucia would be 7 and Baby E would be almost two this year. Both of them would have eyes filled with wonder and hearts filled with love as they anticipated Santa’s arrival. I can’t help but wonder what Lucia would have on his Christmas list. Would it be filled out with requests for Ninja turtles, dinosaurs, trucks or trains? Or maybe he’d be like his dad and ask for Star Wars, video games, and Superman. Only God knows what’s on Lucia’s list and his earthly mother will always wonder what he would like. Baby E would be easy, I’d just load him or her up with fisher price little people toys, a trike or even a ride on dinosaur. Baby E’s likes and dislikes are only known to God and that is alright with me.

Lucia has been gone for seven years, will 7.5 years to be exact. Seven years does not heal the heart, it just grows to make more room for love. Baby E was never meant to be ours, our little one has been gone for 2.5 years and he/she is proof that a woman can walk this earth with a twice broken heart. I miss my children every single day and especially at Christmas. Yet I am comforted by the fact that they get to spend each Christmas with each other and our Heavenly Father. I have to believe that Christmas in heaven is incredible for children.

Because God needed my children more than I did I will never get to decorate the tree with them. A stocking with their name on it will never grace our mantel. I will never get to load them in the car to go look at Christmas lights on the way to visit the mall Santa. But mostly I will never get to wrap a present for Lucia or Baby E. My children have given me a gift that cannot be wrapped. They taught me the meaning of love, strength and faith. It takes a lot to walk this earth with two piece of your heart in heaven. I am still a mother and my babies they will always be.

Sophia and Jack are too little to know that Auntie has babies in heaven. They just know that I am Auntie and that Auntie loves them without question. Christmas is magical. I like to believe that on Christmas Eve the veil is lifted and our babies and loved ones get to spend it with us. So leave an empty seat at your table, a special ornament on the tree and mostly talk about your loved ones as they will always be apart of your lives. Your loved ones they will always be.

To my fellow STILL and pregnancy loss mamas: “I see you. You are loved. You are strong and you my dear are fucking brave. You’ve got this. Your baby(s) matter and as long as you say their name they will never truly be gone.”

{Lucia} Back To School

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Over the past week my Facebook feed has been flooded with back to school photos. Normally I click like and move on my merry way. This year the “today is my first day of first grade photos” are hitting me harder than I’d like. The photos of smiling first graders with carefully packed backpacks are tugging at my heart strings causing me to hit like as I fight back tears. This year is hard, my son his photo is missing in my feed. My Lucia is seven and he should be holding a sign grinning back at me as we wait for the bus to arrive.

There will be no bus pulling into our street. There will be no backpack and schools supplies to purchase. No shopping for clothes and the perfect pair of tennis shoes. No lunchbox to fill and no child to send off to school. My son he died, 7 years ago he died and all of the firsts died with him. Lucia got cheated out of a life time of firsts and moments in the sun.

Part of me wonders if Lucia would have been like me, brilliant with the worlds shortest attention span. ADD is a label I’ve been sporting since I was 7, yes 7 is when I was diagnosed. I have to believe that if Lucia did have it his elementary years would be better than mine. That his teachers would not shy away from teaching him, that they would see and harness his potential. Maybe he would learn cursive, lord knows I couldn’t help him practice because I was never taught. His brilliance is lost to this world, only God knows how bright he is and I pray that one day I’ll find out too.

The other day I watched Sophia and Jack barrel down the sidewalk on their bike/trike and thought “Lucia is missing.” In my mind I could picture Lucia racing Sophia down the street on his batman bike as Jack struggled to keep up shouting “Sissy! Lucia! I see you.” Jack would be the third wheel as Sophia & Lucia raced around the neighborhood. I thought about how Sophia and Jack have no idea that they are missing a cousin and that they got cheated out of a lifetime of fun. When they are older I’ll tell them why Auntie really has four paw prints tattooed on her foot, and that Auntie has two babies in heaven, for now they don’t need to know that babies die.

Babies die. Its a hard and lonely fact. I learned this not once but twice. I got cheated out of a lifetime of firsts with Lucia and Baby E. My babies died before they even got a chance to make an impact on this world. One thing is for certain even though the world will never know them, they changed my world forever and a piece of me will always be in heaven.

{Baby E} My baby, you will always be 

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Two years ago today it was Mother’s Day and I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor starring at a plus sign in disbelief. For years I was told that getting pregnant would be a small feat and one I’d most likely never achieve. Yet there I was sitting on the brown tile floor starring down a test with a plus sign. In that moment the impossible became possible and I was going to be a mom again. 

Having lost a child before I was skeptical, nervous, and scared that something would go wrong again. I was excited, but not to excited. I didn’t want to get attached to this little one until I saw the flicker on the 6 week ultrasound. A flicker is all I needed to see to reassure that this one was real and that I was going to be a mom again. I counted down the days until our perinatal appointment. Jay was excited and nervous, he had started to look at baby gear online and we had picked out names. We were going to have a baby. 

All it took was one swoosh of an ultrasound wand to dash our hopes and dreams. An empty sac showed on the screen. I was 8 weeks and some odd days, we should have seen a yolk, a fetal pole, and that elusive flicker of a heart beat. Instead we saw a cold empty sac. We were quickly sent down the hall to meet with the doctor, she kept on saying “let’s give it another week.” I knew deep down that this baby wasn’t meant to be ours and I didn’t want to entertain another ultrasound. 

My gut was right. A few weeks later we had another ultrasound and just like before the sac was empty. A surgical consult was scheduled and a plan was made to ensure that the horror show of the 2010 D&C did not occur again. A girl’s uterus and cervix can only be punctured so many times. The procedure was completed on 07/07/2015 and the pathology reports revealed that the little empty sac was more than a sac. I had a partial molar pregnancy, our baby had to many chromosomes, two sperm fertilized one egg, and Baby E, just wasn’t meant to be ours. 

It’s been two years since I saw that plus sign, my rainbow it eludes me. I have tracked my cycles like a boss, peed on more sticks than I can count and have seen zero plus signs. In October I put my big girl pants on and sat down with a reproductive endocrinologist, secondary infertility is the label I received. She walked me through our options and explained which ones were safe for me. Its been a journey, we’ve had 3 failed medicated IUIs and now our only hope is mini-IVF. 

There are days where I want to throw in the towel and call it. But this tiny voice reminds me “you are already a mother to angels, you can do this one more time.” Fertility treatments are exhausting, you have ultrasounds, meds to take, IUIs to schedule, injections and so on. It’s literally a second job. For now we are taking a break and on the 22nd we have a consult with a new clinic and I am praying that they will 1. Approve me for mini-IVF and that 2. This will be my time to catch that rainbow. I have faith that my turn is coming, it’s just taking awhile for that darn bottle to point to me. One day, we will get our take home baby. 

In the mean time I rest easy knowing that my babies are together in heaven just like they would be on earth. Lucia went first and Baby E followed 5 years later. They will always be apart of me, they are the reason I walk this earth with a broken heart and they are my strength for a better day,  a day where I too will get a take home baby. 

{Lucia & Baby E} Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month 

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October is many things. For me it’s my birthday month and more importantly it’s where my second story began. I get lost in the details, counting days, writing posts, and reflecting on the year before me. No one ever said survivorhood would be easy. No one ever said “not all babies get to come home.” 

That is something we keep from little girls. We never tell them that not all babies come home and that not all women get to be mommies. That some women have to fight harder for motherhood than others. We keep the darkness out of their eyes and fill them with hope, hope that one day they will hold a baby of their own. 

For me I wish someone had told me “not all babies come home.” That would have prepared me for the worst. We know it’s possible, but our hearts never wonder to that place of “what if.” Instead we live in the land of preparation and anticipation. You get so wrapped up in that land, that when you hear six little words they cut through you like a knife. No woman wants to hear “I’m sorry there is no heart beat.” Those words are a sentence to a life time of wonder and what ifs.

You are left wondering “could I have done it differently?” Followed by why me. You struggle with your faith and become jealous of the swelling bumps around you. Yet somewhere along the way you realize “you never get over the death of a child, you just learn how to live with it.” It’s been six years since I’ve said goodbye to Lucia and I can tell you that a day does not go by where I do not think of him. The same goes for Baby E. A piece of me will always be in heaven and I have to live the best possible life, because they never got a chance to live theirs.

After you lose a child life goes on. People will tell you “oh you will have another one.” Those words are spoken easier than done. No one ever tells you that “some women struggle.” I fall into the category. I am struggling to catch my rainbow. In the quiet of the night I pray that my turn will come. Fertility clinics are expensive, yet our reward will be worth it. I have faith that my third time and Jay’s second will be the one that sticks. I want so very much to bring a baby home, to hold them, and love on them for the rest of their lives. 

For my heart knows what it’s like to let go and she is ready, she is ready for a baby that can stay. 

{Infertility} The Ugly Truth about Chasing Rainbows

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When  a woman has a misscarriage or a still birth people often say “oh you can try again. You will have another one, don’t worry.” They do not realize that those words or even the thought of trying again cuts through her soul. She wanted THAT baby. She did not plan for a future baby, she had planned on brining THAT baby home. 

My journey to motherhood has had more potholes than smooth pavement. I watch friends fall pregnant on a whim. I for some reason do not have access to the baby water or whatever magical dust is flying around. Five years. Five years stood between Lucia and Baby E. Both my children were not planned, yet they were desperately wanted and now the desire to mother someone is strong.

Before Baby E I had made peace with the fact that I would never carry a child. Adoption, was going to be my best option. Doctors told me that my uterus was to broken to carry a child and mostly it was a risky endeavor. Girls with a history of blood clots and stroke, well it’s not recommended that you become pregnant. I felt cheated and robbed, one decision affected my whole fertile life. All my friends who went on the NuvaRing got babies, I got a blood clot. This was the hand I was delt and with time I learned to live with it. 

That is until a blue plus sign showed up. I was scared, no not scared, I was fucking terrified. I had been pregnant before and it didn’t turn out so well. I went home with empty arms. I was cautiously  getting attached to the group of cells I was carrying, the only thing that stood between me and my child was a viability scan. Every high risk pregnant woman dreads this scan. The scan is completed at 6/7weeks gestation, if there isn’t a heart beat, game over. Jay was excited for the ultrasound, as soon as an empty sac flashed on the screen, I knew in my heart it was over. God didn’t give me a second chance to be a mom. He brought me so close to motherhood, yet pushed me one step back. This rainbow was not meant to be ours. The chase was back on.

The world of baby making is not pretty. It’s pretty much a second job. There are charts to be charted, temps to be checked, sex dates on calendars, ovulation test to pee on and then there is the two week wait. The wait to see if all of your hard work (literally) and charting paid off. Month after month went by without a blue plus sign. Something in my gut said “lady you are a little off.” 

A year went by with no luck. Down the fertility rabbit hole we went, I’ve had more blood test and scans (the ultrasound wand and I are on a first name basis) than I can count. My body and I are not on good terms right now. My egg reserve is good, yet something is a miss. Luteal phase failure, progesterone and I are not on speaking terms. She is suppose to be my girl and rise to the baby maintaining occasion. Bitch is sitting in her seat exchanging gossip and not paying attention to her job at hand. Getting her to step up is tricky, yet she is my only hope. I need her otherwise I’ll never catch our rainbow.

Talking about infertility makes me feel like I failed as a woman. I’ve got one job and that is to birth babies. I think in away women judge each other. Having fertility help is like the new c-section vs vaginal birth debate.  Yes it’s true only a small percentage of the population needs fertility assistance, yet it doesn’t make me any different than fertile myrtle from down the lane. Maybe in away it makes me more of a woman because I have to endure a shit ton of testing and scans and needles to get my prize? Probably not, but I just want to throw that out there. 

The getting pregnant process doesn’t scare me. The pregnant part is what scares me. Carrying a child scares me. Not knowing what the next scan will show is what scares me. My therapist assures me that my fears are healthy and normal. That as time goes on they will ease. But for now in this moment they are very real and it’s scary. I desperately want to be a mom, yet 9 months of pregnancy terrifies me. Jay does his best to ease my fears and calms me down. He knows what I’ve gone through, it’s a lot for one soul to carry. Jay tells me that  I am strong and that I am capable of carrying our child, we just need to catch our damn rainbow and never let go, well when they are 18 will let go. 

There is a five year gap between Lucia and Baby E. Which is not normal, it’s not normal to have a five year gap or to loose two babies in a row. Which the term loose is still strange to me, I know where they are and they are not lost. The fore mentioned is the ugly truth of fertility. Some ladies have what it takes and then there are those of us who desperately want to be fertile. 

When someone asks me “do you have children?” I should be able to say “yes, but they died,” without fear of being judged or the awkward look of pity. Just like infertile women, women of dead babies get swept under the rug. It’s like we are societies dirty little secret, like we live in a fairytale land where every woman is fertile and every baby lives. 

Truth: that land does not exist and life, it’s ugly and hard. I learned this the hard way. Yet I like many women still hold onto a glimmer of hope that my next pregnancy will be successful and that it will result in a live birth. While you are doing summer things, I will be getting poked, prodded and scanned to make sure my lady bits are in working order, because this, this is going to be the year we catch our rainbow!