12 weeks.

Today I find myself 12 weeks pregnant with the peanut. It’s starting to feel more real. We’ve told our families. I’m planning on telling work next week. Things are happening.

We got the results from our NIPT. We did the Panorama test through Natera which tests for chromosomal abnormalities and identifies the sex. Low risk for everything tested. I don’t think I can accurately describe the relief that washed over me when I got the call from the nurse. I’m still so convinced that this pregnancy is hanging on by a thread.

Part of the hell that is going through IVF meant that I lost all ability to do all the cutesy shit you read about other women doing. I didn’t get to surprise my husband with a pregnancy test and a onesie. He knew damn well when I was peeing on a stick and what was riding on that morning’s pee. I’ve spent the past 2 months dealing with soul crippling anxiety because I know just how much can go wrong at any point.

So when I texted my husband the news that Peanut was low risk, I left out the part where they told me the sex.

And he didn’t ask.

So I decided to go cheesy. At my lunch break that day, I ran to Target and got a gender themed newborn oneside and a little gift box. When I got home, I told him to humor me and that if he wanted to know, he should open the box. He panicked for a split second – apparently he had totally forgotten that the testing would also tell us boy or girl. So he opened the box and found this:

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It’s a boy!

Part of me is terrified but most of me is pumped. Time to raise me a little kickass feminist boy. As long as he comes out healthy, I don’t care. I’m just happy.

Breathing.

So I don’t want to alarm anyone…

But apparently in 7 months I will be giving birth to either A) an alien or B) a Mexican Luchador (do I have to name it Nacho Libre?)

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Had my first appointment with the OB today obviously, and all is well. My blood pressure is back to normal (LOOK ME RELAXING DAMMIT), and the baby’s heartbeat is back down to an average 174bpm (it was 189 at 8 weeks!). I’m 10+1 but still measuring a few days ahead of schedule. But we got to see it move! About halfway through the tech taking her measurements, Peanut decided to wake up. It started wiggling around and moving. I swear there were jazz hands. My thyroid is being a shit and levels were at 3.4 at last check so my dosage has been increased yet again. They took like 8 vials of blood from me…brought back some lovely IVF memories. We’re doing the Panorama NIPT testing. Hopefully in 7-10 business days, we’ll find out if we’re at risk for chromosomal abnormalities and will even know the sex.

Holy shit. I’m pregnant. I might actually be having a baby.

One year.

One year ago my husband and I sat in the RE’s office and were given the news that natural conception was never in our cards and that it was straight to IVF+ICSI. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Worst April Fool’s ever.

After over a year of trying with no results, this news was equal parts heartbreaking and relieving. Heartbreaking because we knew whatever road that was ahead of us would be hell. Relieving because it was now officially out of our hands. We knew our problem. We knew the only possible solution. We had a plan.

Over the last year, we have gone through 2 egg retrievals and 3 transfers. I currently find myself a day away from 10 weeks pregnant with our only embryo from IVF #2 and I can’t help but reflect a little. In the grand scheme of things, one year is nothing. I know people try for many many years without success, so the idea that a year after our crushing news, we could have found success, is an amazing thing.

I still feel little twinges of jealousy though, and I don’t think those will ever go away. I know this will be our only child unless we choose to go the donor route in a few years. I watch my friends with their children and think “Why couldn’t that have been us?” Half of them got pregnant within 3 months of trying and I’m jealous that I’ll never have the experience of getting to create a baby with my husband in our own bed during an intimate moment.

But I’m happy. I’m scared to admit to even myself, but I am so insanely happy. Before this transfer worked, I was preparing to start looking for sperm donors and researching embryo adoption. The idea that in 7 months, I might have a baby that is actually part me and part my husband? That brings up feelings that I can’t even accurately describe in words.

So here’s to this worst year of my fucking life. It taught me more about myself and my marriage than I ever dreamed possible. I wouldn’t wish this shit storm on my worst enemy. And I hope Monday brings good news.