We met and fell in love in August. By May we were engaged and by October we were married. During our courtship, we talked of fixing up an old house in the country, of small town life and of children...lots of children.
Our wedding was six years ago this October. I was 33 and Mike was 35. We followed our dreams and moved to that small town, and even found that old house in the country. But the children, the children never came.
We started trying to have a baby before our first year wedding anniversary. Unknowingly, it was the beginning of our long path of infertility. My diagnosis came a few short months after we bought our old farmhouse, a house which was proving to require much more work than we had anticipated and to cause much more stress than we could have possibly imagined.
While we struggled to create a home that would provide peace and comfort, we were also going through intensive fertility treatments and procedures...all of which, month after month, year after year, proved to be unsuccessful.
The reality of what was happening caused us great sadness, and I personally felt an overwhelming sense of mourning...mourning for the woman I always thought I was, fertile, and mourning for the life I had dreamed of with my husband, with children.
I began this blog three years into our infertility journey because I desperately needed to find the calm in the storm and to celebrate all the good we had to be grateful for.
At a time when I started to retreat from friends and social gatherings, I found a new community with new friends from around the world. The days in which I couldn't bare to run into anyone in town, were days I found comfort in the words and warmth of bloggers near and far.
A year ago we returned once again to the fertility clinic in Portland.
So it is with great happiness that I share with you something I never thought possible...I am pregnant. We are due just before Christmas.