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You would not believe my complete and utter bewilderment when I saw the two little pink lines show up on the pregnancy stick in mid February. What the HELL? Never in my four year fertility struggle did I ever see a positive test. Even when I was pregnant the two times prior I only had it confirmed through blood tests.


But sure enough, it was there. Staring right back at me.


Memories of sitting in the fertility office and the doctor telling us that natural conception was not “impossible,” but highly “improbable,” were swirling as I stared at the test.


It was possible and now probable. Two blood tests and an ultrasound later confirmed that, Yes, I was indeed pregnant. Natural and unassisted. For the first time in my life I fell into that “Ooops, we weren’t even trying” group, and immediately everything I thought I knew about this journey was flipped upside down.


Fast forward seven more weeks to April 3rd, where we were awaiting our third appointment, and I was thirteen weeks pregnant. The time leading up to 13 felt like a blur for my husband and I. We were still wrapping our heads around the fact that our second hopefully live child would be coming home to us in October. After what we have been through, we were cautiously optimistic and heading into the second trimester. Everything up to that point had been perfect.

We had only told close family and friends, and were hoping to make the bigger announcement later on in the pregnancy.


We took Idan with us to the appointment. We were armed with juice boxes and Curious George to keep him occupied so we could focus in on our new little wonder. The usual drill commenced. Baby showed up on the screen. Brand new profile to gaze upon. Whew, there was a heartbeat! We dodged a bullet. I instantly felt relieved. Baby was twirling around as if to continue to assure me that everything was alright. The ultrasound tech was silent then said she needed to get the doctor.






What? Why? Was there something wrong? I looked over at my husband and he just looked back at me. We both shrugged our shoulders and looked around confused. Was something happening again? It felt like a bad sequel to a horror movie.


The doctor came in and showed us some frozen snap shots the tech had taken of our baby. He pointed out several severe problems. He said these things were fairly serious and he had some major concerns.


Concerns? What? What did he mean?


I didn’t want Idan to see his mom break out into guttural sobs, so I tried to stay as calm and clinical as possible. My husband and I proceeded to ask questions, and he couldn’t give us any more answers without more testing. He gave me a box a Kleenex and said he was sorry. He had me schedule an appointment with the big wig doctors in Denver for the following week to do more testing to hopefully “find an answer” and “discuss future options.” He then left the room and the tech followed, grimly in tow.

That deep place where Cora had been, that was freshly healed over, ripped open and came flowing out. Lighting had struck twice in the same spot. And I started to sob.


Now, I am very open about my fertility process, my loss of Cora, and other things pertaining to my life, but for some reason, I do not want to share with the world right now what the doctor explained to us is wrong. For some reason I can’t bear to write down the words, or think of anyone reading this calling my baby a freak. So why write about any of this then?


I don’t know.


I guess when I started this blog a year ago I wanted to document my time as a Stay At Home Mom, and with that comes the good, the bad, and the very ugly. I wanted to write about an honest raw time in my life, so that maybe other people can find a connection. I usually write cheery, uplifting posts, it’s in my disposition to be sun-shiny. But right now, as a Mama to my Idan, two in heaven, and one with me, I can’t pretend that things are easy right now, and writing this is therapeutic.


So now we wait for more answers. I already had the tests done in Denver and am awaiting more results. The doctors there agreed, things do not look good, and the outcome is very grim. The reality of taking home a normal, healthy baby will not happen, and the reality of the pregnancy continuing is very slim.


I am now a little over 14 weeks.


My heart is broken, my soul in despair.


There are so many questions without answers, decisions to be made that are impossible. All the while trying to continue to be a stable mom to Idan. There will be an end to this story, and it won’t be too long from now.


I don’t believe that God is against me, or that the universe is thwarting me. I just believe that this is life, and these things happen. As horrible as they are, they just happen, and I am not extra special or immune to this bad luck. I have my Idan, and he is my rock, and I am forever grateful to have him.


Until next time, thanks for taking the time to read this.


Oh, and we found out were are having a boy. We have given him a name, but for now he will be “Baby T.”