Wonder of wonders

Once I was officially done with college, I found that I was often asked by friends, family, and random acquaintances, "So...when are you two going to start having kids?" It was inevitable that the asker would then eye my stomach, wondering if that burrito I ate for lunch was really a baby bump that I was only waiting for the right moment to reveal.

I was never quite sure how to answer that question. In all reality, anyone's guess was as good as mine. 

Medically speaking, when you have attempted to become pregnant without success for 10-12 months, you are officially labeled "infertile". While this label comes as a shock to some women, I've known since I was 15 and diagnosed with mild PCOS that having kids would be tricky, if it was possible at all.

I've come to understand after a few years in student married wards that among women of a certain age in this culture infertility is feared more than cancer. It's a taboo subject that is hidden by the inflicted and whispered about in the back of kitchens at family functions and hinted at in comments in Relief Society. No one knows how to talk about it or what to say when you finally tell them that no, you’re not just focused on your education/career, you just can’t get pregnant.

After months of artfully avoiding the subject, (The first dozen times I just wanted to scream that, "Not everyone has the blessing of bunny-rabbit fertility!") I soon discovered that the best and most satisfying way to deal with the implied baby questions and hints was to flat out tell them- “I’m infertile, but we’re working on it” and then be open and unembarrassed when answering the questions that would hesitantly come.  In doing this I discovered a hidden world of women with similar experiences and challenges that became my greatest support group during the months of testing and medication.

We started with Clomid as our fertility drug of choice (after extensive research done by the budding pharmacist) and after taking a month to figure out the right dosage we settled in for the long haul: pills at the beginning of the month, blood test in the middle of the month, pregnancy test at the end of the month, repeat.  [It must be noted here that Zach was a trooper through the roller-coaster ride that was my raging hormones.  Thanks babe!]

A month after we got the dosage right I could finally ovulate on demand.  Hallelujah.  But two weeks and two negative pregnancy tests later the blood still wasn’t coming.  As a final formality before requesting another round of period-inducing progesterone I took one last test:

And wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, a little pink plus sign showed up.

Zach and I are excited and grateful to announce that we are expecting a baby (SINGULAR- for all your Clomid twin predictors) at the end of February!