I have a son, yet I have infertility. My son was conceived 3 months after we started trying. When he was 6 months old I found out I was pregnant again. Surprise, surprise! And then heartbreak. A sac, but no baby. No baby. It was devastating, but we just knew we’d be pregnant again in no time. We’d barely tried for our first two pregnancies. So we waited for it to happen. One month turned into twelve.

Then we began the testing, the HSG test (where they shoot dye into your uterus), a saline ultrasound to check for fibroids, a sperm analysis. Normal, normal, and normal. Clomid was the next step. We joked about getting pregnant with twins during our first month. Then came the second month and the third. Finally, after four months we decided to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist. A specialist. Were we really at a point where we needed to see a specialist? We’d been pregnant twice on our own. We’d gotten pregnant quickly. What could be wrong? It was all so surreal. I kept pinching myself to make sure it was really me walking this path and not some nightmare.

The most disheartening part was that once you have a child, people assume you can have another. Friends would joke, “When are you having number two? Aiden needs another child to compete with!” It wasn’t a joke to us. It hurt. And then when we confided our struggles there were the comments, “You just need to relax and it’ll happen,” “When you move into your new house, it’ll happen,” “When you finally see a specialist, it’ll just happen on its own.” And it didn’t happen.

The specialist couldn’t find very much wrong. There were some 24 hour motility issues, so the RE recommended IVF. I found myself lost in a world of needles, drugs, and side effects that made me gain weight. The drugs made my ovaries swell so much that I wasn’t allowed to exercise. There is a risk that they could get twisted if they are that swollen and heavy and I try to exercise. The weight I had worked so hard to lose after my son’s pregnancy piled right back onto my abused body. But it was worth it to see that positive pregnancy test. Every needle and humiliating test was forgotten when I saw that second pink line.