I thought the first miscarriage in my early twenties was just a fluke. I was young and scared at the news I was pregnant but started to imagine what it would be like to have a baby when things started going wrong. Fast forward several years, my life had changed dramatically, my boyfriend had become my husband. I had earned my BA, a teaching credential and even a MA. My career as a teacher was well on its way, everything was perfect so starting a family seemed like the next big life event. Little did we know at the time that the next eight years would be filled with more hope and despair, dr visits, tears, googling, sadness and finally joy than we could have imagined. In those eight years of trying I was pregnant and miscarried eight more times, did timed natural cycles, tried different meds, an iui (which resulted in a pregnancy and miscarriage), and finally an Ivf cycle with pgs which resulte in our very new and very loved rainbow baby. I luckily had great family and friends that helped me though all the heartbreak and connected with an amazing group of woman on babycenter who had tons of knowledge and became my cheerleaders and now friends. I also had doctors and support staff that were determined to help me and all my losses were felt by them too and my final victory, their victory too. I was ashamed for a time but then just mad and then I became very open. There is so much to this journey I can hardly express it all right now. On this end of it, nursing my almost 4 month old while I type this...it's all so surreal. That hurt seems to belong to another person most of the time but I still ache and cry over my losses...of babies, time, and my innocence in certain quiet moments.