Every time I go to my OB’s Hartford office, I second-guess myself about where to go—do I send the elevator to the 7^th or the 9^th floor? Each time, I look at the directory on the wall to confirm that I need the 7^th floor, then ascend with the elevator to my appointment.

Why, halfway through my second pregnancy with the same OB, do I continue to forget what floor I need to go see her?

This building, on the 9^th floor, also houses the office for the reproductive endocrinologist who helped us get pregnant with Lenny. For months we would, in fact, choose the 9^th floor from the buttons on the elevator, which would take us to our appointments where we talked about ovulation, sperm count, and hormone injections. So many times, I hit that button on the elevator—it was the only floor I needed to know, ingrained in my brain. Even now.

Finally, after months of treatments and counseling, we were pregnant, and able to choose the 7^th floor instead, no longer needing the help of the reproductive endocrinologist.

Our IVF experience is unforgettable for many reasons—the emotions, the injections, our beautiful son. I never thought, though, that such a small detail of that time would be so deep-seated in my mind that I truly have to double check the building directory at every appointment.

For us, the 9^th floor represents an extremely difficult time in our lives, but it also represents hope and happiness. The 9^th floor gave us the chance to have a child when our chances were low. The 9^th floor called me to say simply, “Congratulations, Mom,” telling us that our IVF cycle had been successful. The 9^th floor gave us the unbelievable gift of Lenny.

These days, I happily choose the 7^th floor, still a little incredulous that we did not need the help of the extraordinary doctors on the 9^th floor for this pregnancy. I may forget what floor I need, but I will never forget what the 9^th floor did for our family.