Say Hello to My Little Friends... A Short Novel, so grab some popcorn.

Here's what I hang my hopes on each month. Clomid, or, Clomiphene Citrate. The magic bullet. (Or so I hear, and hope to eventually prove to be true). My ticket to more motherhood. And these babies (ha, no pun intended) are $2 a pop. As in, when I'm swallowing each one, I'm swallowing $2. You can see, I'm up to swallowing three a day now. There's a lot better ways I could be spending $6 a day, rather than sending it down my throat. And there's a lot better tasting things I could be sending down my throat for $6. Alas, this is my life. And, unexpected as it is, I'm embracing it. I know that being a mother is part of my destiny.

I have a memory, when I was a girl of about 12 or 13. It was summertime and I had spent the day probably in and out of our family's backyard swimming pool, the envy of the neighborhood. I went upstairs and laid down on my bed to read. Occasionally, I looked up from my book at the rays of the late afternoon sun peeking through the curtains of the window by my bed. As I watched the light filtering through the curtain, feeling carefree and awash in that sense of happiness and freedom summertime brings, I had a very unexpected and unbidden thought come into my mind. The thought was this: I want to be a mother. It was a thought not of my own making; after all, I was only 12. I barely knew enough about where babies come from, and I was pretty sure I didn't even like boys. I was so far away from having to make a decision about marriage, so far from dating even, that it was a thought at which I was more than a little surprised. I hadn't been reading about mothers in my book. And I don't remember having any sort of special interaction with my own mother that day. Truly, it was a thought that had come from out of nowhere. I was shocked by it. But immediately I knew it was true. It was what I wanted to do with my life. It was what I knew I would do with my life. It was a spiritual confirmation. I knew just as surely as I knew my own name, I wanted to be a mother. I knew that motherhood was part of my destiny.

Years passed. I was a good girl- I was a pretty good student in school and I tried really hard to be a good student in the gospel. I, like most of the Mormon girls my age, looked forward to a temple marriage, and raising a family. My desire and goal to eventually be a wife and a mother was not uncommon or remarkable- it was just what most girls my age wanted to have, and expected to get. I can't say that that thought I had on that summer day stayed ever-present in my mind- it was buried under all the other cares and concerns of my growing up years. But spiritual impressions like that one that I had, don't stay buried forever. And in fact, are unearthed usually when you need them the most.

So, fast forward almost 20 years from that summer day. I'm 30 years old, happily married and have two children who are lovely and wonderful. (Most of the time. :)) I look at them, and I know: They are my heart. First baby was so easy: pretty much all we had to do was think about wanting a baby, and, boom, nine months later, there she was: tiny and pink and precious as could be. Second baby, not so easy. Between first baby and second, I lost a pregnancy, took some tests, and starting taking some meds. We were given a very miraculous promise from our bishop in our ward, and, after 3 years of trying, within 18 months of our bishop's promise, and four months of taking drugs, we got baby number two. Strangely enough, a few months after we'd begun getting to know baby number two, we found out, that, quite by accident, we were expecting baby number 3. How we managed that without the long road of drugs and tests, we're still trying to figure out. Baby number three had to leave us before we really got to know her, and since that time, going on five years, we've yearned for more babies. It's not that I just wish I could have more- I know that there are more babies for our family, at least one, and we just have to get them here. Yes, I am a mother, but I am a mother to more than are with us right now. And I yearn for those that I know are coming. It's been a hard road sometimes. And many times, I have been consoled by the thought I had on that summer day many years ago: I want to be a mother. Motherhood is part of my destiny.

So, back to my expensive little $2 apiece friends, and the here and now. We thought for a while that since we spontaneously got pregnant with baby number three that we were somehow cured of the fertility problems that had plagued us before. After many years of trying, we realized this was not the case. Last fall, I spent a lot of time contemplating my life: Did I want to keep trying to have a baby? After all this time without success? My kids were getting older and soon both would be in school. Did I want to go back to being tied down to a needy newborn when I could give it up and be a working woman? I could earn our family more money, it would give me some satisfaction, it would be a great way to spend my time. So I decided to give up my dream for a while, maybe forever. I started working more. But it took no time at all to see it failed to give me the satisfaction I was looking for. It was not as fulfilling as I had hoped. And at the same time, I started feeling compelled to visit my doctor again. And so I did.

As it turns out, the same thing keeping me from getting pregnant with baby number two, had kept me from getting pregnant ever after. The problem is this: I'm not ovulating. Plain and simple, to get pregnant, you need eggs. I have them, I'm just not releasing them, thus making pregnancy pretty difficult to achieve. I mean, 1+0 does not equal 2, if you get what I mean. So, six months ago, I got intense about trying to have a baby. And when I say, intense, I realize, and am grateful for the fact it's not as intense as some people have to do, and grateful that I do have this as an option, but it's intense, to me. This is what I do every month, as dictated by my doc: First of all, keep meticulous track of my cycle. And Day 5, start taking Clomid. Take it Days 5-9. Days 10-20, I have to... (ahem, blush a little) take a guess, Day 21, go to the Lab and have my blood taken to test for progesterone, the hormone that indicates whether or not I've ovulated. Day 23, call the lab and have them tell me the results of the test. Day 28, wait to see if I missed a period, and if I did, take a pregnancy test. Repeat. This is what I've done every month for the past six months. And in six months, I've only taken a pregnancy test once, maybe twice. Mostly, I've never gotten to that point, because I've never needed to. My cycle starts over and that's proof enough that I'm not pregnant. As a course of action, Clomid isn't pleasant. It makes me dizzy, gives me hot flashes, and makes me irritable. It also makes my skin break out. And as a whole, being intense and committed to this process month after month, is emotional. I cry. Sometimes a lot. Especially between days 21 and 28- when I anticipate what my work-- in taking the meds, doing what I need to do-- has done for me. And every month, when my period comes, I try not to, but my hopes always get up, and even though I haven't, it feels like I've lost an actual baby. And it's crushing. It hurts to feel like the thing I want the most right now is the thing that I can't have, when I know what I know: that I am a mother, to more than the two I wrap my arms around every night.

At the beginning of the renewed intensity last fall, the first month I took my medicine, I was super excited. I got my hopes up. Way up. I thought I was finally going to have success. I thought since it took only a few months of clomid to get Andrew here, that maybe it'd happen right away this time. And so I was heartbroken when I turned out not to be pregnant. It was one of my saddest times since my baby died. One night, I started to cry into my pillow and went downstairs so as not to disturb my husband. He is so supportive, he always wants to help me, but I needed to be alone this particular night. As I sobbed in solitude, I prayed. I prayed for comfort and peace and understanding. And it came, a little at a time. Thoughts in my mind, Doctrine and Covenants section 121:7: My (daughter), peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment." And the distinct feeling that my "small moment" was going to be several months. It wasn't going to happen right away. And I needed to be patient. After I understood that, I went outside wrapped in a blanket, and sat on our porch swing in the dark of the night. I had stopped crying and I just looked up into the starry sky. I knew that my loving Heavenly Father had whispered courage into my heart. It didn't make everything better, but it made it bearable. He knows my heart and so he sent other blessings to me, a loving friend, willing to hear anything I have to say, even when it's the uglier and less filial thoughts, give me a hug, let me cry, encourage, uplift, and support when she's not obligated in the least, but does out of love. That night, late as it was, I also spoke with that friend, who, undoubtedly inspired, told me other things that gave me added peace and understanding. Her faith in me and the process gave me more courage. So I went forward.

After several months, we discovered that the dose I was taking wasn't working, my eggs were being released but weren't ready to be fertilized when they were, so we doubled the dose. Then doubled it again. I was finally ovulating at the right level. I stayed busy, tried to stay faithful, hopeful. I went to Hawaii, and had such a great time with my husband that I came back wishing I could be pregnant. That a baby would have been the icing on the cake to my wonderful relaxing vacation. I don't know if that makes any sense, but it was just that I rediscovered how much I love my husband, not necessarily in the intimate way, but just that he is my heart's companion, and I felt that a baby would and should be the product of such love: a tangible representation of the connection between us. Love is a beautiful thing. And I love my husband so much. He has been so supportive to me through this whole process. Sometimes he doesn't know what to do with me, his emotional wife, but he listens, and lets me feel what I feel, doesn't judge, and loves me all the time. I feel so blessed to have him at my side.

So, after Hawaii, again, tried not to get my hopes up, but did anyway. I read into everything I felt, "oh, maybe this means I'm pregnant!" A cautious kind of hope, but so hopeful just the same. As hopeful as I was that first month I was on the medicine. After my blood test on day 21, I called on day 23, hoping for the news that I was way up on the charts, that my ovulation was such that I had medical reason to hope even more than I was. I knew when the nurse came on the phone, it was not going to be good. And it wasn't. Not only had I not reached the optimum level, I hadn't even ovulated at all. Not at all. When I'd been ovulating, albeit not at the optimum level until the month before, for the past 6 months. When I hoped to ovulate the best, I didn't at all. It made no sense and I was devastated. I hung up the phone, and only because I was at my friend's house, didn't automatically burst into tears. I realized later, that where I was and the timing of the phone call was a blessing given to me from a loving Heavenly Father: where I could be at my supportive and kind and understanding friend's house when I got the very sad news. I didn't appreciate the blessing for what it was, and after trying to hold back my tears, I suddenly had the urge to bolt from her house and go home and collapse into tears. I was so heartbroken and confused. So, I did, I didn't even put on my shoes, just grabbed them as I bolted for the door but before I was even down the driveway and to the door of my car, I put my hand over my mouth and began to sob, once again, as sad and despondent as was at the beginning of the process six months ago. I got in my car and started to drive but didn't get very far because I had to pull over several times because I was crying so hard I couldn't see and couldn't drive. And I realized being alone was not what I wanted. I was sad, but I didn't have to be sad alone. And I didn't want to be. I had a friend who was so compassionate and understanding and angelically kind and would have been more than happy to let me cry on her shoulder. So I gathered myself together a little, and went back. She welcomed me back, gave me some encouraging words, and I felt better. I had to leave her house to go get Andrew shortly after, and as I got into my car, I again began feeling so confused and sad. I started crying again (I told you, sometimes, I cry a lot), not enough yet to make it dangerous to drive, and just like I did six months prior, I started to pray, for peace, and comfort and understanding. And just like that time, it came. This time it came quickly, a sudden stroke of idea. A part of a scripture I had read just the day before, but that I realized applied more to me than I had previously thought: Alma 26:27: "...bear in patience thine afflictions and I will give unto you success." I marveled that it was so direct: Be patient and I will give you success. I knew again that I needed to be patient. And I was happy to know I would have success. Again, it didn't make it better, but it made it okay for the moment.

I called Chad, and told him the news. I tried to be brave, but I was still sad, that my dream had not come true, and my voice faltered and then broke as I told him, "I think... I think I might want to take a break for a while." Meaning a break from the process: I wanted to quit trying to have a baby. I was too heartbroken and and it was just too hard. My tears were not a lack of faith, I knew that I had just received an answer very directly, but at the time I was just so completely bewildered at the news, so confused and heartbroken and so sick and tired of the process I was putting myself through, physically, emotionally, mentally. Chad agreed that might be good, and we promised to talk about it later.

We did talk about it later, and we were both deeply sad. We ended tentatively deciding to take a break from the cycle of trying, and hoping and being monumentally disappointed. Later on that night, wanting that comfort and peace again, I turned to Alma to find the scriptures that had come into my mind. And I received even more understanding from that scripture, when I read the first part of it, the part that hadn't come into my mind when I was in the car. It began: "Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold the Lord comforted us, and said: Go... and bear with patience thine afflictions and I will give you success." It was exactly how I was feeling... my heart was depressed, and I was about to turn back from my decision to be intense and intentional about having a baby. It was one of those times where the Lord is being very direct: I know you're sad, I know you want to quit, but keep trying, be patient, and I will comfort you. And eventually you will have success. I took great courage from that scripture. Both from the direct answer it gave me: keep going, you will have success in trying to get pregnant, and, from the knowledge that Heavenly Father was intimately aware of me and how I was feeling.

Several days later, it was General Conference. The first two talks, I don't even remember what they were about, but I knew after listening to them that the Lord wanted me to keep trying. It wasn't even really what the talks said it was more the feeling that I had. My answer of don't turn back but go forward, and you will have success was the right direction to take. Again, I found the courage to keep on trying.

So, now, here we are. I don't have all the answers, but I take comfort in the answers I do have. I don't know everything, but I know enough. And my feeling on that summer day when I was young has continued to give me peace. Recently, I found out I have to go in for an ultrasound to check on things. If there are problems, I'm going to have to stop taking clomid, and start taking birth control- taking me in a direction the exact opposite of the way that I want to go, even though previous to my answers in the scriptures and General Conference, I would have welcomed that option gladly. But I know what I have to do. And what I want to do. I'm going to keep trying. Because I know, it is my destiny to be a mother. And there are more babies out there for me. And I know that no matter what, Heavenly Father will comfort me along the way.