Having a baby still stuns me.
Mostly when I look in the mirror while holding her.
And her little face is just grinning away.
She’s grinning at herself of course.
And maybe her second momma reflecting back at her too.
The momma holding her is still amazed that’s she’s here.
Out of 24 eggs, she’s the only one that made it.
She’s the only one.
Making babies is miraculous no matter which way it happens. Conceiving without the aid of modern medicine has a 25% chance every month for healthy fertile couples. Conceiving via IVF renders a 40-45% chance for couples in their late 20s, early 30s.
Either way, there’s still a huge chance that pregnancy won’t happen.
I still remember the doctor telling me after the transfer of our one embryo, after he’d sandwiched it in between what he called the peanut butter layers, that what happens next they don’t know. They don’t know what happens between transfer and implantation.
They (the medical community) don’t know.
So I went with a miracle. A miracle happens.
And then we saw her little heartbeat fluttering away at the 7 week ultrasound. We saw it again at 9 weeks.
And heard her whoosh-whoosh at 12 weeks.
A miracle for sure.