Hello, Little One. I Know You’re There.

While I’m sitting here bloated and in anticipation for tomorrow’s big day, I can’t help but begin to get emotional. About my eggs. Yes, my eggs. I’m not saying it’s normal, but if you’ve been through IVF, I think it’s normal for the excitement to begin building now versus during stims.

Last week, I was talking to a very amazing friend who I’ve made in this process, and she was asking how I was feeling, mentally. I told her I felt indifferent at this point. Numb. She totally got it. Right away. Stims are tiring, exhausting, day-by-day anxiety about what’s next and remembering to take all your meds and do your shots at just the right times.

But once I got the call that my egg retrieval would be scheduled for Monday, I began to get more emotional. Maybe it’s the hormones, but I think it’s also because it’s getting so much more real.

This same friend text sent me a text Saturday that said, “YOU’RE GOING TO BE A MOMMY!” And I could not stop smiling from ear-to-ear. Okay, and I almost straight up lost it too. Because she’s right. No matter what happens, even if this doesn’t result in a birth, I am going to be a MOMMY, even if it is just for a couple weeks after they transfer the embryo. No matter what happens, I want to remember this feeling. I know this might not work, and things are going to get harder if that’s the case, but I never want to lose this feeling of hope.

So I’m writing an open letter to one of these eggs. That could be part of OUR baby. I need to believe he or she is in there, and that we’ll meet someday.


Hello, little one. I know you’re in there. At least I hope you are. And I cannot wait to meet you. We’ve been waiting a long time for you, and I know we it might still be a while before we see you, but thinking the day could be soon has given me enough hope to keep going. You don’t physically exist yet, but I can already see you with your daddy’s eyes {I hope, they’re a really beautiful blue} and hopefully neither of our noses. I can see you with the kindest heart and the most beautiful smile. It’s been a hard year, and year before that waiting for you. But I’m told you’ll be worth it and you know what? I think everyone is right. You’ve already taught me so many things and you’re not even here. How does that happen? Patience. Hope. That life doesn’t always go as planned. They are the best life lessons and YOU have given that to me.

Little one, I’m hanging a stocking for you this year. Even if you’re only with me for those couple weeks after transfer, hanging your stocking will be our beacon of hope this season.




One thought on “Hello, Little One. I Know You’re There.

  1. 20 eggs! Ash, that’s great. I haven’t stopped praying for you and Jordan. Get some rest. I love you and I will be thinking about you this week.


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