As soon as my husband, Derek, and I got married in 2016, we started trying to have a baby. After five years together, we got married, knowing we both want to start the family. I grew up with three siblings and big families are likely, and I was thrilled for it.
It took a year trying before I was diagnosed with PCOS and started Clomid. We tried two rounds, but nothing worked. We were then referred to a fertility doctor at the Center for Reproductive Medicine in Texas. After thorough testing, they found no other issues, and I was given the option of an IUI, a procedure similar to IVF but less invasive. Though expensive, we prayed about it and decided to go forward. Even with my fear of needles, we didn’t think twice.
I remember the call when our first IUI didn’t work. I had predicted it already, but hearing it was still heartbreaking. Our doctor optional we try one more round before moving on. We did, hopeful this time, but again it didn’t work. Our doctor said we should try IUI just one more time before IVF. We knew IVF was financially unfeasible, so we were left deciding between taking a huge loan or considering foster-to-adopt through CPS, also a difficult, inexact trail.
Then came a phenomenon. Our nurse at CORM called, saying I might qualify for an IVF clinical trial. We were thrilled, but soon learned our cover wouldn’t cover it fully, we had to pay $7,000 that day to participate. We knotted, took a small loan, and went forward. After more testing and a surprise procedure, we were ready.
The IVF process was challenging and intense. I had to inject myself twice a day, with help from my nurse friends and sister because I could hardly manage alone. Mentally, I wasn’t sure it would work, so we also started the foster process while taking IVF medications. We transferred one embryo. I rested for two days, then returned to work as an elementary school teacher. I nervously took a home pregnancy test the day of my blood test, negative. My heart sank.
But then, in the persistent portal, my HCG level appeared: 51. Technically positive, but very low. I had to wait until Tuesday for a redraw. Over that weekend, I began bleeding heavily, passed out, and my husband called 911. I declined the ambulance, believing it was likely a miscarriage. That day we went to the friend’s gender reveal and I stayed home to recover.
The next morning, a home test came back strongly positive. At the clinic, my levels more than doubled. I was still pregnant! But we weren’t out of danger. Ultrasound revealed nothing yet, raising concerns about ectopic pregnancy. A week later, we heard a tiny heartbeat. I was ecstatic.
Another surprise pop, it wasn’t only one baby. There were twins! The embryo had split, forming identical twins. Even more, they were mono-di twins, sharing a sac but with separate amniotic fluids, a higher-risk pregnancy. We faced biweekly specialist appointments in Houston, an hour and a half away, with scares including possible twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. But alter we learned that we are going to have to little girls.
Our twin girls were born via scheduled C-section at 36 weeks on New Year’s Eve. After all the struggles, the tears, the injections, and the uncertainty, they arrived healthy, perfect, and miraculous. The path wasn’t simple but we were blessed twice. Every difficulty along the way made us cherish them even more. Today, our two-year-old twins are smart, outgoing, and full of life, and I thank God every day for them. After years of infertility and heartbreak, our happy family finally felt complete.
