I have wanted to be a mom as long as I can remember. I have pictures of me playing with my baby dolls as a toddler cradling their heads like my mom taught me. I can easily recall as each sibling was added to our large brood (I'm the oldest and have four sisters and a brother spanning 15 years). I was always the second mom. I literally cannot think of a time when I was not parenting my siblings (trust me they can tell you). What I do not have in my head is the difficulty my mother had in pregnancy. She had several miscarriages, two of which were well into her second trimester. As an adolescent, I was old enough to have been more aware of what was going on, but somehow I missed it. Or my mom was really that good at shielding her pain from us kids. What I do know is she was pregnant for what seemed like an eternity before having one of my sisters.

Fast forward to high school and what I knew to be the start of my own challenges with fertility. My cycle brought on the most excruciating and overwhelming pain imaginable. I could not function and would spend a lot of time curled up with heating pads and ungodly amounts of ibuprofen. From that point on my family really thought I was overreacting. Although my mom experienced secondary infertility it was not something we ever really discussed. As the matriarch, she has never shown weakness to us kids. She was sympathetic but did not understand the physical pain. As my sisters got older they did not have the same issues as me and I felt even more alone. I got married and after a couple years, we started to explore our infertility. Early on I received a magazine from my mom where I read an article on endometriosis. Every single thing I read in that article was spot on. I self-diagnosed and called my mom right away to let her know I finally had an answer for all this crazy pain. She, of course, thought I had something more like hypochondria.

I was officially diagnosed after a laparoscopic procedure in 2005. I continued in pain and not getting pregnant every month. I tested my basal temperature and followed every single sign I could to time ovulation and baby making with my husband. You know, that super pleasurable experience that is supposed to bring the two of you closer together that instead gets timed out and only can happen on a very specific schedule. Nothing worked. I was broken. God made women's bodies able to reproduce, only He didn't see fit to make mine that way. I was at a loss. I did not understand why He would put such a strong desire on my heart to be a parent if He did not want me to be a mom.

Then one of many breakdowns occurred. Aunt Flo had reared her ugly head yet again and I just couldn't take it. So I did what any woman would do. I called my mom to cry. Only she didn't pick up, my dad did. He did surprisingly well at handling my sobs and my broken heart. He gave me the name of my mom's doctor when she was struggling with fertility and told me he would have my mom call me as soon as she got home. I'm sure he said some other really nice things too in an attempt to make me feel better, but of course, those are not what I heard. Later I learned that after he hung up with me my baby sister, then 14 came in and told him that she thought she was pregnant. Of course, he wondered why her, and not April. The oldest and married daughter, that's who should be pregnant right now.

So one would think that I would have totally lost it at that point. I didn't, in fact, I was one of the few level headed people in my family when this news came out. I still do not know why that is, it could have only been God because that would not have been my natural reaction. It was a situation that anyone in my shoes would have been furious over, but I was totally calm. I was a little illogical at first even offering to temporarily parent so my sister could get through school, but overall peaceful about it.

In 2007, I had another procedure to remove adhesions from my endometriosis and then followed the next course of action to go through fertility treatments, which started my three times a week drive out to L.A. to be poked and prodded. I injected myself daily with hormones and monthly hoped for the news that this cycle would be the one.

My friends were nervous to call me with their great news of pregnancy for fear of upsetting me because they too wanted me to be a mom. I was actually okay with their news too. What did me in though shocked me. It was the news I overheard one day at work passing by a group of colleagues. Someone in my office was pregnant with her second child. I walked into my office, closed the door and drained my tear ducts. My heart ached and I didn't understand why. This made absolutely zero sense. How could I be basically fine with every other person I knew getting pregnant and not today. I was mad at myself for having these feelings. After thinking it over and comparing this situation to every other I finally figured it out. This would be the only person that I would see on a daily basis for hours on end. I would be witness to her cravings and ever changing body on a daily basis. There would be no escaping this and I would have to deal.

After 11 rounds of treatments, I was just done. The comments from my boss, family, and others telling me to "just relax and you'll get pregnant" and my own father-in-law asking me "Aren't you three months pregnant with my grandchild yet?" had done me in. I could not be on this never ending roller coaster of emotions and false hope any longer. My final course of treatment produced four cysts, I was at the end of my rope. This was either not the right way or not the right time or both. In any case, I was not doing this one moment longer.

Years later I am at a much better place. A lot of healing has happened both physically and emotionally. My healing also happens to look a lot like the sweet little seven-year-old face that wakes me up every day. The pain in my heart has been dulled (it doesn't ever truly go away though) and the joy of being a mom which is what I have always wanted, is amazing.