Our journey to starting a family began two years into marriage. We were young, healthy, and honestly, a little naïve to the reality of infertility. After a year of trying, we saw a specialist, and that’s when I was diagnosed with endometriosis. I had surgery to remove scar tissue, and we began the long road of fertility treatments. Month after month, each attempt ended in heartbreak.
As someone who loves plans and control, infertility wrecked me. I was angry with God, confused, and in denial. Why was something so “natural” so impossible for us?
After our third failed IUI, we felt God gently calling us to surrender—not just the process, but the outcome. We prayed that our story, baby or not, would grow our faith and the faith of others. And as we began IVF, we asked to see God’s fingerprints in every step.
Our IVF cycle started in August 2021—right as I was beginning a new school year teaching 4th grade. Not my timing, but His. We prayed for the perfect number of follicles—He gave us nine. Only six eggs were retrieved. Just three fertilized. And in the end, we had two embryos.
We transferred our first embryo in October 2021. After so many failed attempts, I assumed this would be no different. But on my birthday, we took a test—and saw our first positive. Our son was born June 9, 2022.
A year and a half later, we were ready, but scared, to try our last embryo. On May 21, 2024, we transferred. And on May 30, we got another miracle: our daughter, born February 8, 2025. Science said it was unlikely. But God said, “Watch what I can do.” Two tiny embryos. Two beautiful babies. The perfect family, in His perfect timing.
This journey didn’t follow my plan. But through every doubt, every tear, and every prayer, God was faithful.