For some women, the dream is laid out like a tidy checklist. Go to school, land a career, find the right man, get married, and then start a family. Shanon Wright had hers written down in ink, red pen ready to check each milestone. She breezed through the first steps. College degree? Check. Dream job? Check. A perfect wedding with her southern gentleman, Adam? Double check. The last step, the family she longed for, felt like it would fall into place just as easily. But infertility has a way of turning checklists into crumpled papers at the bottom of a drawer.
At first, trying for a baby was fun, hopeful, and full of laughter and inside jokes. But as months turned to a year, the laughter dulled. Friends around them announced pregnancies, hosted gender reveals, and posted bump selfies. Shanon and Adam smiled politely, clapped at balloon pops, and then went home to cry. She tried old wives’ tales, holistic methods, and even strange out-of-the-box tricks. When nothing worked, doctors became the next step.
Her OB prescribed Clomid, which they jokingly nicknamed the “crazy pills.” No luck. Soon she was referred to a fertility clinic where medical jargon, acronyms, and costs overwhelmed them. Shanon prayed, as her mom suggested, but with each failed test and procedure her hope cracked. She wore a mask of cheer in public while bitterness brewed underneath. Comments like “Just relax and it’ll happen” or “Why not adopt?” stung like salt in wounds. She started to question herself as a woman, fearing Adam might leave her for not being able to give him the family they both desperately wanted.
Eventually, she broke. One night she spilled it all to Adam, sobbing through fears and anger. To her surprise, he admitted he felt the same—just as scared, just as frustrated. They clung to each other and decided to push forward, choosing a new doctor known for a more aggressive approach. That’s when IVF became the only option.
The first round of IVF was textbook. Shanon followed every rule, tracked every shot and appointment. When the embryo transfer was complete, she tested early and saw the faint pink line. Pregnant. Finally. The last box on her checklist was about to be ticked. She dreamed of Facebook announcements, gender reveals, and maternity photos. At her 12-week mark, she and Adam floated on air. Until one night, she woke in a pool of blood.
The miscarriage shattered her. She described it like a storm: thunderous anger, lightning-bolt thoughts, tears pouring like rain. She joined a “club” she never wanted, grieving a child she carried but never got to hold. Depression swallowed her. Then her mother shook her awake, grabbing her shoulders and telling her to get it together if she genuinely wanted a family. Harsh, but it sparked something. Shanon and Adam rallied resources, leaned on family, and tried again. This time, the embryo they transferred was named Nemo because she was the only one strong enough to survive. Genetic testing confirmed she was a girl. Instead of hanging all their hope on her, they gave her love. They let go of control and chose faith.
Two weeks later, at the results appointment, the doctor smiled. Her HCG levels were high, so high he ordered an ultrasound. On the screen, they saw not one heartbeat, but two. The embryo had split—identical twin girls. Shanon and Adam sobbed, overwhelmed. Yet fear still lingered. And sadly, at 13 weeks, one twin’s heartbeat was gone. Grief returned, but alongside it, gratitude for the one strong little girl still fighting inside her.
The rest of the pregnancy was filled with anxiety, lists of banned foods, endless water drinking, and late-night Doppler checks. She even joked about renting an ultrasound machine until Adam talked her down. She couldn’t fully let herself celebrate until late in her pregnancy when the fear finally started to lift. She unpacked the crib, washed baby clothes, and scheduled maternity photos. For the first time in years, excitement felt real again.
When their daughter arrived, Shanon described her as a rainbow after the storm. The rainbow baby who made all the grief, the needles, the miscarriages, and the tears worth it. Her little girl, now one, beams joy. Shanon often catches herself staring, unable to believe she’s really here. Infertility, miscarriage, and IVF carved scars into Shanon’s story, but they also revealed resilience she didn’t know she had. She checked her final box, not in the way she imagined, but in a way that made the rainbow’s end even more breathtaking.
