It’s been long. Too long, I know, that I’ve gone without an update. Especially considering that this particular post is one that I never thought I’d get the chance to write. The one where I get to tell the world, “it worked. We’re pregnant!”

It’s still so surreal, to be honest. And I think there is a part of me, a larger part of me than I’d like to admit, that still feels like this is too good to be true–that any day now someone will tell me, I’ve dreamt it all and this beautiful thing will be torn from me once more.

The truth is that the habits of going through infertility don’t disappear the second that positive does. I know it should–in every scenario I’d thought of, I never thought the lingering need to shut my emotions off would stay beyond those two lines. I tell myself, “it’s over, it’s finally over,” but my heart says, “they aren’t here yet.”

I wish I could adequately explain the way it feels to be immeasurably happy, yet automatically have the need to separate myself from it. I suppose the only way you’d know it is if you felt it. I’ve been honest about this experience thus far–and I’m not about to stop–even when my feelings don’t always make sense.

I cling to the moments that I get to see our little ones on the ultrasound–the days that I feel that they belong to us, that they are staying for good. It’s incredible–because of our unique journey, we’ve seen our little ones from the exact moment of conception during my transfer, to two, healthy 12 week old babies. There’s no other experience that proves the existence of God like seeing your child/children growing.

My favorite scan so far was at 9 weeks. We’d just found out three weeks before that our little embryo split into identical twins.