From One to Four: On Loss, Waiting and the Children Who Choose Us

Somewhere between loss, faith, and feathers at my feet… I realized this story wasn’t what it seemed.

I’m often asked if I’ll be going for a third. A third child, because I’m currently pregnant with my second son. The truth is, I don’t know if I could put my heart through that again…Let me take you back.

My husband and I always planned to have children. Way back when he was first courting me, he asked if and how many, I wanted. I laughed and said four. He responded, “Oof, I don’t know if I’m your guy,” which, in hindsight, is a wild thing to say considering we hadn’t even shared our first kiss yet.

I grew up with three other siblings. It felt natural to me.

Fast forward years later, halfway through our third year of marriage, we got pregnant on the first try. I knew even then it was a miracle. I was stunned.

The pregnancy, however, wasn’t easy.

I had severe morning sickness and fatigue until 22 weeks. I was diagnosed with a low-lying placenta. Meaning it was in a dangerous position, and until it moved into a safe placement at 34 weeks, I had mentally prepared for a C-section.

Then at 26 weeks, I went into preterm labor. I spent a week in the hospital trying to stop my body from fully committing to contractions… only to continue contracting at home afterward for the next two weeks. From that point on, I had to remain home or within reach of the hospital, for the rest of my pregnancy. And somehow, my son stayed. Until I was induced at 41 weeks. Grateful, always. Even though the induction only got me so far. After 24 hours of labor and dilating to just 7 cm, I chose a C-section before the risks grew too great.

My son was born 8 pounds, 12 ounces, 21 inches- perfectly healthy.

I didn’t feel ready to try for baby number two until a few months after my son’s first birthday.

In that time, I went through an unexpected appendectomy just one week after he turned one. During surgery, doctors discovered a few things: endometriosis, an umbilical hernia, and a cancerous tumor - but that’s a story for another time.

As I healed from surgery, I began preparing, physically and mentally, for what I assumed would be another difficult pregnancy. I was wrong. This time, it wasn’t the pregnancy that was hard. It was getting pregnant.

We began trying in October 2024.

For three months, I tracked everything. Learning exactly when and how early I ovulated. By January, I felt like an expert. In February, I tested positive.

It didn’t stick.

I didn’t wait to seek answers. Knowing I had endometriosis, I understood how important that piece of information was. In March, my OB referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist.

Emotionally, I wasn’t ready to walk through those doors.

So instead, I gathered what I could control. I focused on improving my odds, while still trying each month (with a few breaks in between). Winter became a season of information. By spring, I was taking the right supplements, addressing dental health, and comparing detailed lab work from March to June.

My numbers improved. Everything looked promising.

Still, no pregnancy. I told myself: if by July 1st I wasn’t pregnant, I would call.

We had one more vacation planned at the end of July. The earliest appointment available was mid-August. My husband and I met with the specialist. We reviewed testing, shared my history, and prepared for the process ahead.

At the end of August, my cycle began. For two weeks, I went through testing labs, sonograms, and an endometrial biopsy. A few days later, I ovulated.

There’s something almost ironic about this stage. Many women conceive right after these procedures, as everything has been flushed and cleared, creating the perfect environment for implantation.

And it happened.

I got pregnant again.

But it didn’t stick.

The next day, after I miscarried my biopsy results came back. Positive for endometritis, not to be confused with endometriosis. An infection. Inflammation. A potential reason implantation hadn’t been successful. Within 24 hours, I started two strong antibiotics for two weeks. The only way to confirm it worked would be another biopsy.

But in between those weeks… I ovulated again.

I asked my doctor if I should wait. At the same time, we had discovered my uterus had a septum, something that might require surgery and could also affect implantation.

Still, I asked if I could try. Which would delay further testing.

I was prepared for her to say no. Prepared to wait another month. Prepared to reach the one-year mark of trying.

Instead, she said: go ahead.

This time, we’ll be ready, with progesterone and prednisone.

Ten days post ovulation, I felt something. A nudge.

And all throughout August and September, I kept noticing feathers at my feet… cranes crossing my path. I felt close to something.

I took a test, just to see.

A faint line.

The earliest I had ever seen one. A few days later, I took a digital test. I needed to see the word: Pregnant. I called my doctor. Bloodwork began. Every few days, I returned to track my numbers. They weren’t just doubling. They were skyrocketing.

It was official. And yet, alongside the gratitude… came fear.

Every time I used the restroom, I braced myself. Looking for pink. For red. I had never experienced implantation bleeding before and thankfully, I didn’t this time either. But the fear stayed.

Pregnancy after loss is its own kind of heartbreak.

You don’t breathe fully. You don’t celebrate fully. You don’t trust it yet. You just… hold your breath.

I think I finally exhaled around 18 weeks. That’s when it shifted. I could speak about it freely. I could feel it, this was real...

A Note for Anyone Walking a Similar Path

Since sharing pieces of this journey, I've received messages asking what we did differently before conceiving our second son. I share this not because I believe there's a magic formula, but because when I was in the middle of it, learning of other women's stories helped me feel less alone.

Every fertility journey is different, and what worked for me may not be what someone else needs. But after nearly a year of trying, two losses, and a diagnosis of stage 3 endometriosis, we began looking deeper.

Our process included:

• Comprehensive fertility bloodwork and hormone testing

• Ovarian reserve testing (AMH)

• Tracking ovulation through cycle monitoring and basal body temperature ( I used my Oura Ring for Temp. & Mira for precise ovulation tracking)

• Mid-luteal progesterone testing

• A saline sonogram (SIS)

• An HSG to confirm my tubes were open

• A pending pelvic MRI to evaluate uterine anatomy

• An endometrial biopsy, which ultimately revealed chronic endometritis

• Two weeks of antibiotics to treat the infection

• Monitoring a uterine septum that may have required surgery

• Progesterone supplementation after ovulation and during early pregnancy

• Prednisone prescribed by my reproductive endocrinologist during early pregnancy

• Serial HCG blood draws to monitor progression in those first uncertain weeks

My Reproductive Endocrinologist: Dr. Alexandra Sczcupak

at IVFMD CLICK HERE

What I learned is that not every test provided an answer, but every test helped narrow the possibilities. Some pieces of the puzzle mattered. Others simply ruled things out. Most importantly, I learned to advocate for myself. To ask questions. To seek specialists. To trust my instincts when I felt there was more to uncover. And alongside every appointment, every procedure, every blood draw, every day of waiting, I prayed.

A lot.

...What surprised me most was how different this pregnancy felt. Aside from mild nausea and fatigue, it’s been… calm. No restrictions. No complications. Just a steady, healthy pregnancy, the kind I always hoped for.

And slowly, something else shifted too.

For so long, I dreaded the idea of pregnancy again. But as time passed, I realized something deeper:

To feel complete in our family, I would ask God for one more child. Not for a specific gender. Not for perfection. Just for the child I felt waiting for me.

And maybe, the greatest gift this time… was the peace.

Now, with just two months left, I can honestly say, I’ve had a calm, healthy pregnancy. Yes, my hips hurt. But somehow, it feels like it’s gone by in a breath.

And I keep coming back to this: This is my fourth pregnancy. My fourth.

The very number I once said I wanted, so casually, all those years ago.

In my faith, we’re told that the babies we lost, we will meet them one day. Before loss, that idea felt beautiful. After loss… it feels complicated.

And yet, deep in my heart, I feel something else. That it has been the same soul… trying to come through this whole time.

Maybe that’s my mind protecting me. Or maybe it’s my intuition, and I’ve learned to trust that.

So when people ask me now “Are you going to try for a third?”

I answer honestly.

“Actually… this is my fourth.”

With love, in all the becoming (and in every soul that finds its way to us.)

Caro