*I wrote this entry when I was pregnant but was too scared to post.  Going back and reading brought such a feeling of joy that I wanted to share*

So today was our first ultrasound at 6 weeks and 1 day or 24 days past our 5 day transfer.  The wait was torture.  Not quite as bad as beta hell week, but torture all the same.  This process really should come with a disclaimer…”You may think that when you get this news you are all set, but each milestone is just a hurdle on your way to the next milestone—-you never feel out of the woods.  Oh, and by the way, time will sloooowwwww down between each of these milestones to the points where minutes feel like hours. Have fun!”  But time passed as it inevitably does, and we finally found ourselves in the ultrasound room with our Dr. at about 11:30 am.

As he was preparing his “magic ultrasound wand” , a million catastrophes ran through my frazzled mind.  He is going to see nothing….he is going to see a sac but no baby ( For some reason I cannot use the word fetus)….going to see a baby, but it will be too small…there are going to be 15 of them.  There was this awful 30 seconds where he found the sac (a dark blob on the ultrasound), but could not find anything inside it. I heard him say, “We should be seeing something right around in here.”  I closed my eyes and braced for the bad news.  Us infertility girls are the masters of receiving bad news-at this point it is a part of our identity. We have been steeling ourselves against the news of failure and loss since the beginning of our infertility journeys. So there I was, gritting my teeth and scrunching my eyes against the inevitable loss that I knew was coming…with that 30 seconds spinning out into what felt like an eternity…when the Dr. said, “Ahh…here we go…There it is”.  I felt like a white hot explosion happened somewhere deep in my brain.  Surprise? Joy?  Disbelief that this could be real?  All I can say is that I will never forget the way that moment felt as I opened my eyes.   My husband grinning at the screen (which of course I couldn’t see) exclaiming, “That is so awesome!”-the doctor and nurses smiling and laughing-everyone lit up by the bright, white glow of the ultrasound image.  Did I mention still couldn’t see the screen?  I reached up and the nurse helped me turn the screen to face me.  And there you were….a little fluttering dancing ball of light.  The fluttering was your little heartbeat.  I felt my heart start to flutter with yours.  We were so blessed to get to see that. A lot of people don’t see the heartbeat till much later…AND you were measuring 1 day ahead.  Ultimately, it could not have gone any better.  You are 4.98 mm.  You are strong and growing.   You are in this world.   And your dad and I are the happiest we have ever been.  I am writing to you now because I saw you,  you are here, you are real,  and you are absolutely and utterly amazing.