Happiest of transfer-versaries to my little munchkins. Two years ago you were my single, hatching embaby. After two years of failed pregnancy tests, two failed cycles of chlomid, and a failed IUI, we hung so much hope on this tiny little spec of DNA. After having my polypectomy two months before and having to push back my transfer date once again, I didn’t believe this day would ever come.

I remember driving down to the clinic, praying the whole way with Anthony. My bladder was so full and I was trying my best not to concentrate on my discomfort.

I told myself again and again, “it might not work.” I tried to accept the fragility of this situation and that nothing was guaranteed. I tried with all my might to prepare myself for the worst and to not get my hopes up—but I couldn’t help it, that thing that swells up in your chest when you are so close was there yet again. And this time, I didn’t try to deflate it. I remember watching that little spec tumble into my belly on the ultrasound machine—both Anthony and I swore we saw two dots. Then we did what we had to–wait.

Those two weeks went by at a snail-like pace. Then, I went in for my first blood draw to see if my HCG levels indicated early implantation on day 9. Anthony and I were sitting in the living room of our first home when my phone rang. We looked at each other–only us knowing the significance of this moment.

I answered on speaker immediately. “Hello?”

“Hello!” our nurse said. “I’m calling with your beta results.”

“Okay, I said, and? How are we looking?” We wanted to be anywhere above 50. Above 100 was preferred, but I’d take anything.

“Well, I’m excited to tell you that your blood work reflects implantation. Your beta is 250; congratulations, you are technically pregnant!”

Anthony and I hugged, screamed, and cried. It was the first positive pregnancy I’d ever had.

Little did we know that our embaby had split into our identical twin boys. And that those little specs of DNA would grow through an entire 36 weeks of gestation and come to us as two happy, healthy babies.

We didn’t know any of this then. We didn’t know what was on the other side of each step we took toward our family. Many times, that was disappointment and heartbreak. But once, this once, it wasn’t. On the other side was more love and joy than we could have ever imagined.

Know this, I wanted to quit. I wanted to stop more times than I could possibly count. I wanted to throw in the towel and be content with a life without kids–or maybe, just a life without having to fight so damn hard. I was beyond tired. I came to the end of myself more than once.

Now, I look back and all I can say is I’m so grateful that God gave me this need in my heart. I hated that need so much for so long. I despised my desire to be a mother. But, I know that it was that deep longing that led me to go beyond my own sanity, beyond my own strength, beyond my own will. The Lord gave me that need as He has for so many others.

Know that it is this, this love that only a parent can have for her child that will move the earth, that will shake the mountains, that will go to hell once and return as many times as needed. This is reckless love. This is the love that a parent has for their child. This is the love God has for us. This is powerful, and immovable, and unchangeable. This is the love we were made for.

Don’t give up, not yet, my dears. You are almost there.