Desire to Be a Mom
Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a mom. I loved babies and children, imagining the day I’d marry and start my own family. In 2013, I met my now-husband, and we married in 2014, excited to begin this next chapter. Two years later, we decided it was time to try for a baby. My heart was full of hope and excitement, naïvely believing we’d conceive right away. But month after month, negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test, we realized something was wrong. The questions were endless: What’s happening? Where do we even start?
The next years were far harder than I expected, but we clung to hope that one day, we would be parents. In 2017, we sought help from our doctors. At first, everything seemed perfect—ovulation tests were positive, my tubes were clear, ultrasounds looked normal, and bloodwork was fine. Yet suspicion of endometriosis led to surgery, confirming our fears. My endometriosis was removed, and we were told this could increase our chances—but still, months passed with no pregnancy.
Infertility felt isolating. Everyone around us seemed to move forward with their lives while we remained stuck, praying and searching for answers. Social media was full of pregnancy announcements, baby stores brought tears, and holidays only magnified the emptiness. I began sharing our journey online, hoping to break the silence that surrounds infertility—1 in 8 couples face this, and most do so quietly. Opening up brought support, prayers, and a sense of connection that carried us through the hardest times.
We moved forward with a reproductive endocrinologist (RE), undergoing more testing—saline sonograms, genetic screenings, ultrasounds, and bloodwork. Over two years into our journey, our doctor shared that we had only a 1% chance of conceiving naturally. My heart sank, but through prayer, we waited, seeking peace before considering medication, IUI, or IVF. Then, at a routine check with a new OBGYN, we discovered my progesterone was low, meaning I wasn’t ovulating despite positive at-home tests. This unexpected answer gave us clarity and a new path forward with medication.
Starting letrozole brought hope, though it also came with heartbreak when pregnancy still eluded us. After switching REs and adding IUI to the treatment, the first attempt failed. But on IUI #2, we finally saw a positive test—over three years of waiting had led to hope. Our joy was immense, yet days later, I faced a chemical miscarriage. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows were just days apart. I prayed, I cried, and I wrestled with why God’s plan felt so unclear.
Determined, we tried one more IUI, which failed again. Feeling called, I pursued another laparoscopy for endometriosis. Alone in the pre-op room, Covid restrictions preventing my husband’s presence, I prayed for answers. The surgery revealed endometriosis and polyps we hadn’t seen before. We planned one final IUI, but timing and ovulation challenges prevented us from trying that cycle. A friend shared a story about infertility leading to adoption, and it hit me—had I truly surrendered this journey to God? For the first time, I fully gave Him control, trusting His plan, whether it led to adoption, continued treatment, or a different path.
Out of habit, I took a pregnancy test that month—without medication, without monitoring. A faint second line appeared. Shock, fear, excitement, disbelief—every emotion washed over me. More tests confirmed it: we were pregnant! After four years of trying, hope had finally turned into reality. Every doctor’s visit confirmed my levels were rising perfectly. We were having a little girl, and each day I carried her felt like a precious gift.
But the journey was far from over. At 22 weeks, I began weekly monitoring. At 28 weeks, a tumor called a chorioangioma was found in my placenta, rare and potentially dangerous. After consultations with a specialized surgeon, a procedure was performed to stop blood flow to the tumor and remove excess amniotic fluid. I spent weeks on hospital bed rest, monitored daily, as complications continued to develop. At 31 weeks, signs of anemia in our baby meant it was time to deliver early.
On April 29, 2021, at 3:41 p.m., our miracle girl, Tatum Rayne, was born via C-section at 4 pounds 8 ounces. Her name—Tatum, “carrier of joy,” and Rayne, “abundant blessings from above”—felt perfect. She had hydrops, just as feared, yet she overcame it all on her own. Our NICU stay lasted six intense weeks—emotionally exhausting yet full of hope and celebration. Finally, Tatum came home, completing our family after five long years of waiting.
This journey through infertility, high-risk pregnancy, fetal surgery, and NICU challenges broke us, reshaped us, and ultimately blessed us. Each day with Tatum is a reminder of God’s goodness, a front-row seat to His miracles. I continue to share our story to support others walking similar paths—through IVF, adoption, medication, or prayer. Infertility can feel isolating, but hope, advocacy, grace, and faith carry us forward. For anyone walking this road: you are not alone.
