Chris and I were married in June 2011, surrounded by family and friends, full of hope and excitement for the life we were about to build together. From the very beginning, children were a central part of that dream. When Chris asked my parents for my hand in marriage, my dad looked at him with a hint of humor and a lot of seriousness: “Well, I hope you want kids!” I laughed, but inside, my heart soared. I had always wanted to be a mother, and I was ready to step into that role. The vision of our family, of tiny hands and laughter filling our home, was vivid in my mind.
After we settled into married life, Chris and I made the practical decision to wait two years before trying for a baby. I was teaching at the time, and the plan was to save my salary so that eventually I could stay home with our children. It seemed simple, responsible, and achievable. But as months turned into a year, our attempts to conceive were unsuccessful. That quiet frustration, the constant hope followed by disappointment, began to weigh on us. We decided it was time to see a fertility doctor and understand what might be standing in our way. We chose one of the top specialists in our area, known for his high success rates.
Before the first appointment, I remember praying earnestly: “God, if we can’t have biological children, please make it very clear, so we can move forward and start the adoption process.” The test results came back with no issues on my end. Chris’s results showed minor abnormalities—“slow swimmers,” the doctor said—but nothing that couldn’t be addressed. At this point, it still felt like having a biological child was possible, so we decided to move forward with treatment.
The doctor recommended IUI, intrauterine insemination. Essentially, the healthiest sperm were washed and inserted directly into my uterus. In theory, it sounded straightforward, even hopeful. In reality, it was painful and emotionally exhausting. Each cycle left me feeling vulnerable, frustrated, and, painfully, like a failure. My paycheck quickly became the infertility fund—IVF, acupuncture, medications, consultations. Months passed, four IUIs later, and still no pregnancy.
Our faith in the doctor began to waver. We discovered the semen analysis was invalid because the sample was handled incorrectly. We felt dismissed, rushed, and belittled, as though our questions were trivial. One moment that remains etched in my memory was when we asked for clarification about the procedure, and the doctor replied sharply, “Do you want a baby or not?” That moment hurt. But the final breaking point came unexpectedly, in a moment that should have been comforting. A nurse, attempting to bond with me over the struggles of infertility, shared her story. She had conceived twins naturally, but one twin had died. The other tested positive for Down syndrome, so they had to terminate the pregnancy. I came home heartbroken and shared the story with Chris. His response, quiet and unwavering, was, “We would have taken that baby.” In that instant, I realized this doctor and his office were not the right fit for us.
We transitioned to a doctor recommended by a friend of my sister’s. From the first visit, the difference was remarkable. The office was smaller, the team attentive, and the doctor’s approach aligned with our values. He respected each life created and personally performed all procedures. This new environment gave us hope we hadn’t felt in months.
With our new doctor, we completed three more IUIs before discussing IVF. The idea of IVF was daunting. For two practicing Catholics, it raised ethical and moral questions. How could we respect life at conception while undergoing IVF? After long conversations and prayer, we decided to give every embryo a chance at life, no matter what. I had always dreamed of a big family, but the thought of 15 embryos taking over the years was intimidating. Still, we felt it was the right decision for us.
The first IVF cycle yielded seven eggs, but only three survived fertilization. The embryos didn’t look promising, but we decided to transfer all three to maximize our chances. For two long weeks, we imagined the possibilities. What if all three took? How would we handle triplets? The anticipation was a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Then the call came: none had taken. I was devastated. That same day, my brother and sister-in-law welcomed their adopted daughter into the world, a moment that forced me to confront our path. Had we been wrong to pursue biological children first? Would we already be parents if we had adopted? Questions swirled, and grief settled in.
After time to grieve, we signed with an adoption agency in July 2014 while also attempting one final IVF cycle during the stress-free summer months. Once again, seven eggs, three embryos, two transferred, one frozen. Yet again, nothing worked. Watching Chris take the doctor’s call, maintaining composure while masking heartbreak, I realized that we were ready to focus on adoption. But we also decided to give our final frozen embryo a last chance in December 2015. This embryo was the one that hadn’t seemed as strong, the one that “shouldn’t have made it.” And yet, against the odds, it took.
Christmas morning of 2015 brought us an incredible surprise. We shared the news of our pregnancy with our families, celebrating the joy after years of disappointment and tears. But our journey wasn’t over. In April 2016, I received a life-changing phone call. Our baby had tested positive for Down syndrome. I was shocked, scared, and overwhelmed. Chris was away on a trip, and I felt isolated. Panic took over. I texted my sister, the only family nearby, and leaned on her support. The days that followed were filled with research, fear, and prayer. I worried about every detail—the child’s future, social acceptance, health, our relationship, and our capacity to love unconditionally.
When Chris returned, I shared the news in person, crying and allowing space for his own processing. The week after, we met with a genetic counselor. Her guidance and reassurance shifted our perspective. The diagnosis, we realized, changed nothing about our love or hopes for this child. And, most importantly, we learned the gender: we were having a girl. Hearing the words “baby girl” made everything real, tangible, and filled me with renewed hope.
I immersed myself in the Down syndrome community, connecting with families living joyful, full lives. By July 21, 2016, Emmy was born six weeks early. Her first tiny cry marked the start of a new chapter in our lives. Seeing her in the NICU, knowing she was stable and thriving, filled me with an overwhelming joy I can hardly describe. Emmy exceeded every expectation I could have imagined. She was sweet, calm, intuitive, and loving. Though she faced challenges, her slow, steady pace revealed gifts in every moment. Childhood felt longer and richer with her, milestones more profound, and life more beautiful.
As Emmy grew, she brought love and connection not just to our family but to our community. She made friends effortlessly and helped me create friendships I never could have imagined. At eighteen months old, we received another blessing: I became pregnant on my own with a baby boy, Reese. Watching Emmy with her little brother, nurturing and playful, has been one of life’s greatest privileges. She loves him fiercely and teaches him joy, patience, and love every day.
Our lives now feel ordinary in many ways—simple routines, family dinners, playdates—but extraordinary in the richness of our love and the children we are raising. The journey to get here was long, painful, and at times heartbreaking. The medical appointments, IVF cycles, failed transfers, and emotional rollercoaster were difficult beyond words. But every tear, every prayer, every dollar spent, every moment of fear was worth it because it led us to Emmy and Reese.
Emmy and Reese are our miracles. They are everything we could have hoped for, more than we could have imagined. Our story is a testament to resilience, faith, and the power of unconditional love. Through the heartache, the waiting, the uncertainty, and the fear, we learned to trust the journey, embrace unexpected paths, and celebrate the beauty in life’s surprises. Every day with them is a reminder that hope, patience, and unwavering love can create miracles, and we are truly among the lucky few.
