From Infertility to Family

I always knew I'd be a mom. By the time I was 19, adoption was part of my life plan. I didn't know if I'd be married or not, although I'd hoped that I'd find a partner to share my life with. No matter what, I was going to be a parent.

Little did I know that fertility could be such a fickle thing. 

I remember the joy, anticipation, and excitement that coursed through my veins when the pregnancy test showed positive for the first time. Yep, as I'd planned, just a couple years after marrying my husband, I was pregnant. By the tenth week, I was thinking about possible colleges that might be suitable for the genius who had taken up residency in my uterus. What might this child major in, I wondered. Math? Science? Theater? We had great conversations together, one sided, but nevertheless deeply moving and meaningful. Not a week after these dialogues began, I miscarried. 

I was devastated. 

I didn't "miscarry," I lost a baby, a new love, a friend who I couldn't wait to meet, and never would. I lost three more babies over the next couple of years, and while they were all heartbreaking, none came close to the severe and overwhelming shock and grief I experienced at losing my first baby.

And then, I couldn't get pregnant again. Lots of false positives, which was confusing and distressing. Clearly, there was something wrong with me. Time to hook up with a fertility expert and get this thing figured out. 

Such optimism.

I went to a fertility specialist, because that made sense, right? He put me on a few rounds of Clomid. Now there's a med for you. The hot flashes, the mood swings... and that was just on my husband's part! It was worth it, because I got pregnant. Yay! No more tetemperature charts, no more timing sex, no more chasing my husband down the hall wailing, "come on, hunny! I'm fertile! Please? I'll let you be Little Bo Peep this tiiiiime!" Kidding, mostly, lil bit, not much. 

A few weeks after the positive pregnancy test proclaimed positive, I spotted and lost the baby. 

I switched to a fertility clinic and did several rounds of IUF. Let's just say that we reached the end of our fertility budget. We took a break from all things baby making, except for the fun part, of course. After we took some time to grieve and heal, we moved forward with our adoption plans. 

In a miracle as only Christmas can package, a precious, amazing toddler with dreamy blue eyes came to live with us. There is no doubt in my mind that she's ours, completely and utterly meant to be our daughter.  

Six weeks later, I was pregnant. 

In the majesty of autumn, a strapping baby boy was born with blue eyes, blond hair, and a beguiling smile. 

Two years after that? You guessed it, preggo again. 

Amidst the fragrant blossoms of spring, a blond haired, blue-eyed charmer was born. 

To say I was busy with a baby, a 2-year old, and a 3-year old would be an understatement. 

It wasn't a smooth journey to parenthood, or easy for that matter. However, my dreams of family did come true.