My 18-year-old son moved into an apartment with his childhood best friend. I thought they were prepared to handle life independently. But only two days later, Wyatt returned home in tears. He locked the door and whispered, “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t call Austin.” Then he gave me a document he’d discovered at Austin’s house, and what I read nearly made me collapse.

oice cracking on the final word.We had dreamed about having a large family full of children from our very first dates together.

We tried to get pregnant for three long years, but nothing ever happened.

We finally consulted a specialist at the reproductive clinic in Omaha named Dr. Mercer, who ran extensive panels on both of us.

I will never forget the look in her eyes when she held Dan’s file and told us he had complete azoospermia, meaning he could never father a child naturally.

Dan kept completely silent in that office, but when we pulled onto the shoulder of Interstate 80 on the drive home, he pressed his forehead against the steering wheel and wept like a broken man.

“I am so sorry, Laura, because you married someone who cannot even give you a baby,” he wept while eighteen wheelers shook our truck.

“I married the man I love, Dan, and we will find a way through this together,” I promised him, wrapping my arms around his shaking shoulders.We discussed private adoption and thought about living childless, weighing every option for months on end.