On June 19, 2016, at around nine in the morning, my babies’ journey into life truly began. To understand why that date is so meaningful, let me take you back. At the time, our son Grant was five years old. He was our only child and such a blessing. What we didn’t realize back then was that his very existence was already a miracle. We hadn’t needed any medical help to conceive him, so we assumed more children would come easily. But five years passed, and no new baby joined our family.
I visited my gynecologist for answers. He didn’t seem too concerned and simply prescribed Clomid, a fertility drug, without running many tests. Several months passed, and still no pregnancy. By 2015, we made the decision to see an IVF clinic. After many blood tests and scans, I learned my egg supply was low and their quality wasn’t strong. At 35, time wasn’t on my side. Doctors also found a small polyp in my uterus, which might have been preventing pregnancy. I had surgery to remove it later that year. Still, there was little else we could do right away.
Waiting was one of the hardest parts. I had insurance through my job, but it didn’t cover infertility treatments. So we waited until January 2016, when my husband’s insurance plan with fertility coverage began. That same month, I started the process for IVF. The medications alone cost thousands of dollars, and I remember sitting anxiously by the door waiting for the FedEx truck to deliver them.
The treatment meant daily injections, sometimes more than two or three at a time. I had to travel to another state every couple of days for scans and blood work. It was exhausting. On January 23, 2016, after weeks of preparation, four eggs were retrieved and three fertilized. They were placed inside me, but sadly, none survived. We mourned those embryos deeply, because to us, they were already our babies.
In February, we tried again with a new set of medications. My body did not respond well, so that cycle became an IUI attempt instead. By April, we started yet another cycle with different drugs and the same stressful routine. This time six eggs were retrieved, four fertilized, but all turned out abnormal and couldn’t survive. I cried so much that day. My nurse even cried with me, showing how invested she had become in our journey. At that point, I was tired. Tired of traveling, tired of needles, tired of getting my hopes up only to be crushed again.
Still, we decided to keep going. On June 1, 2016, we began what I thought would be our last try for a while. I was emotionally drained. Friends prayed with me when I felt like I couldn’t pray anymore. I told myself, “Whatever happens, it is well.” On June 19, five eggs were retrieved. By June 22, two embryos remained one weak, one called our “superstar.” Doctors doubted either would survive, but we transferred both into my uterus anyway.
Then came the long two week wait. I admit I couldn’t resist testing at home. Each day the lines grew darker. Bloodwork later confirmed it, I was pregnant. At our first scan, the technician looked surprised. There weren’t just one, but two heartbeats. Twins! We were shocked, overjoyed, and nervous all at once.
On January 20, 2017, we welcomed our daughters, Libby and Alaina. Our family finally felt complete. After years of heartbreak, injections, surgeries, and endless prayers, we were blessed with two healthy baby girls.
Looking back, infertility was one of the hardest journeys of my life. It’s exhausting, both physically and emotionally. The medications mess with your hormones, the waiting shatters your heart month after month, and the financial burden weighs heavily. Yet through it all, I learned I wasn’t alone. One in eight couples faces infertility, and yet many suffer silently because they feel they can’t talk about it. Hurtful comments like “You can just adopt” or “Stop trying and it’ll happen” make it even harder. People don’t talk because the pain is too deep.
That’s why I share our story. To remind others they are not alone. To show that there is hope, even after so many failed attempts. And to encourage family and friends to be gentle with loved ones facing infertility. Offer prayer, compassion, and support, even if they don’t want to share details.
Today, when I look at my twins, I see answered prayers. I see the result of science, faith, and love working together. And I hope other families still fighting for their miracle know that their story isn’t over yet. However their family comes together, through IVF, IUI, fostering, adoption, or natural conception, it will be beautiful and worth it.
