by Kelly Damron

Mommy. It's a five-letter word that millions of women are called each and every day. That same word, however, can be a title that many women never obtain. Some women may choose to live child-free by choice; others, because they have pursued every possible means to achieve that sacred title to no avail.   

When my husband and I agreed we were ready to start our family, we were both excited about the process, the expectations, and how it would transform us from a couple to a family. We were naïve about how challenging it might be to get pregnant. A friend of ours had confided in us that she and her husband were having problems and they had been trying for five years! We didn't think that would happen to us.  

“Infertility” or “infertile” are words no couple desiring a baby wants to hear. We heard those words spoken as, "It's unlikely that you will ever be able to impregnate your wife via spontaneous conception." The odds we were given to conceive without the use of Assisted Reproductive Technologies was about one in a million. Not really good odds. And no matter how much you may like sex, a million times is quite a lot.  

What exactly is infertility? It is described as a couple's inability to conceive a pregnancy after one year of unprotected intercourse. Unbeknownst to many people, infertility is a disease of the reproductive system that can affect men and women alike.  

We had some choices to make. Do we adopt, do we try in vitro fertilization, aka IVF, (which is expensive, very emotionally draining, and physically stressful to the woman), or live child free? My husband was leaning toward door number three, live child free. I, however, couldn't imagine a life without getting to hear someone call me “Mommy.” We were on different planets as far, as what our infertility meant to us individually and as a couple. 

After many arguments and soul searching with regard to our marriage, we agreed to undergo infertility testing and treatment. We were fortunate that our medical conditions, mainly his male factor infertility, were fairly easy to "cure" with IVF. Unfortunately, with IVF there is no guarantee you will become pregnant. However, we were lucky that our first IVF cycle worked. Two weeks later our doctor predicted we were pregnant with twins. Six weeks into our pregnancy it was confirmed I was, in fact, carrying twins. I couldn't believe our good fortune.  

But good times cannot last forever. And, I would learn, bad times won't either. Our twin pregnancy was full of complications starting at 24 weeks gestation. As I lay in the hospital bed week after week, I couldn't believe this was happening to me. But looking back, my experience with preterm labor was easy compared to the premature birth of my twin daughters. They were born at only 30 weeks gestation weighing about two and one-half pounds each.  

Every day for seven weeks I sat vigil by their bedsides in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I couldn't believe our bad luck with infertility and with the early birth of our babies. I was incredibly scared and sad and fell into a state of depression and anger.  

For the first six months of my girls' fragile lives, I wouldn't admit that I had a problem. My daughters' nurses had encouraged me to consider anti-depressants to help "take the edge off," but I would tell them that I wasn't depressed and I didn't need any medication. They would remind me that I had been through a lot and sometimes we need extra help for just a little while. Finally, it hit me. I realized that I did need help. I had become a horrible wife. Even though I was able to bond with my babies, I didn't like my life. All that I had worked for was finally mine, yet I was unhappy.  

After counseling and twelve months on an anti-depressant, I finally had the life I wanted. Almost four years later, I can't believe this is my life. My twin girls are happy and healthy. My marriage, to their father, is joyful and fulfilling. We weathered good times and bad to end up where we are today.  

Everyday my daughters make me laugh and smile. And even though they have an occasional tantrum and I'm exhausted after caring for two the same age, there is no life I'd rather live. My husband and I have moved past the challenges in our marriage and now manage life together easily. They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and that statement definitely applies to the journey of infertility. 

Kelly K. Damron is the author of Tiny Toes: A Couple's Journey Through Infertility, Prematurity, and Depression. Kelly is an active volunteer with the March of Dimes Arizona Chapter and RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association Arizona Affiliate. You can read her blog and listen to her podcasts at www.twinpeas.com/wordpress. Visit her website at www.tinytoesbook.com.

image courtesy Kally Damron

by Meg

To be a parent was in my DNA. Never something I questioned or doubted, I just assumed it would happen in the typical storybook fashion in which you grow up, meet your prince charming, get married, live in the house with the white picket fence, and have some kids. 

I come from a big Irish-Catholic family with five children all a year apart.  Growing up, we had tons of cousins living close by to play with, and most of the friends I went to school with came from families of 5 to 10 children! 

Then real life intervened, and it’s as if someone sucker-punched me in the gut.  I found myself divorced at 25, living 3000 miles away from my family and friends, and facing infertility issues.  That was absolutely not the way I planned my life.  However, I made the promise to myself that no matter what, I was not going to let someone else stop me from achieving my dream of being a parent. When I felt the timing was right for me, I would find a way. 

And I did. I chose adoption.  I knew with that option there would be a definite end result, unlike with IVF or possible other choices where there is no guarantee. It was never an easy road; there were plenty of days when I was all alone thinking to myself, Maybe I am kidding myself, no one will give a single woman a baby. Maybe I’m too old. Maybe I can’t do this alone. What if? In those dark moments, I would pray for a sign that I was on the right path.  

I was visiting a friend in Colorado for the weekend, and I was going through one of those dark moments. While at dinner with some of his friends, I began talking to one of the wives about my adoption plan and how I was trying to choose an adoption agency.  She told me a friend of hers owned an adoption agency and that she would call on my behalf. She said the agency could guarantee me a newborn. This was music to my ears and just the sign I was looking for.  

I did my homework and researched the agency prior to meeting them, because it all sounded too good to be true. I was intrigued that a married couple owned the agency.  They had two biological children and three adopted children.  

Due to scheduling conflicts, I met with them separately and heard their individual stories of how they started their business and how they came to build their family. I was also able to ask questions I had prepared.  I was there for nearly four hours before heading for home after writing my first big check to them for $8500.  As I pulled out of their parking lot and turned on my radio, a Don Henley song, “Taking You Home,” played.  As I listened to the words, it became clear that it was another sign. 

While waiting for my first meeting, I got to look through several “Dear Birth Mother” books.  These huge, photo-album type books contained hundreds of letters to birth moms from prospective adoptive parents.  All of them had photos of the couples looking happy and eager.  I took note of the type of stationery these people used to try and attract the attention of a teenage girl, the language they used to speak to her in their letters, considering they were writing to a stranger, and how they presented themselves in general.  Every detail counted. 

I noticed there was a handful of single prospective parents (both men and women) and about the same number of gay couples looking for babies or children. I asked the owners, “Why would any birth mom choose me, a single mom, over the hundreds of waiting couples?  It certainly seems like the deck is stacked against me.”  Their reply surprised me; they said that there is someone for everyone.  Every birth mom is looking for something different. She might have come from a single parent household, had a close relationship with her own mother and wants that for their unborn child.  She might think you look like her favorite aunt.  It could be any number of reasons, but the right birth mother will find you. And she did. 

I am blessed beyond words that my birth mom found and chose me. We hit it off famously from the start. She came cross-country to live in birth mother housing and deliver the baby in California.  I ended up being her labor and delivery coach, and all three of us spent my son’s first night in the hospital together in one room.   

As we all left the hospital the next day, I can honestly say, this was not the way I planned on becoming a mother, but it was a dream come true!

You can find Meg on her page at Grow Together.