It’s hard to believe that an entire year can hold so much hope, disappointment, resilience, and quiet strength all at once. When we first began this journey, we stepped into it with optimism and trust, trust in timing, in the process, and in the belief that things would fall into place the way they once had before. But as the months unfolded, we found ourselves walking a path we hadn’t fully prepared for: a year marked by infertility, unanswered questions, and repeated attempts that didn’t lead us where we had hoped.

Over this past year, we have gone through several rounds of medicated IUIs. Each cycle carried its own rhythm appointments, medications, waiting, and then more waiting. With every attempt came renewed hope, careful planning, and the quiet imagining of what could be. And with each unsuccessful outcome came a different kind of weight. Not always loud or obvious, but steady and real. It’s a unique kind of disappointment that builds gradually, one that teaches patience in ways we never expected to learn.

Through it all, though, our life has never been defined by this struggle alone. We have been married for four years now, and in that time we’ve built a home that is full, active, and deeply rooted in love. Our 8-year-old son is at the center of so much of that joy. He is thriving, especially with homeschooling, and it’s been incredibly meaningful to be present for his learning and growth every day. He often talks about how much he would love to be a big brother, and hearing that reminds us of the hope that still lives in our family.

Our home itself reflects the life we’ve created together. We live in base housing, a place that feels incredibly safe and secure, and we’re fortunate to have a five-bedroom house where every child has their own space. That sense of stability and room to grow has been especially important as we’ve opened our home to foster care. Right now, we have two foster children in our care, and they have become an important part of our daily lives. Caring for them has added layers of meaning, responsibility, and connection that continue to shape us.

Our days are full in ways that go beyond schedules or routines. Because I work from home in juvenile probation, I’m able to be present throughout the day, balancing my work while also being actively involved with the kids. That constant presence has allowed for a level of connection that we truly value. Whether it’s helping with schoolwork, sitting together for meals, or simply being available, those moments matter deeply.

We also try to make the most of the simple things. Right behind our house is a park with a big open field, and it’s become part of our everyday rhythm. We go there almost daily-running, playing, or just enjoying the fresh air. We take walks together as a family, using that time to slow down and reconnect. During the summer, we spend time at the lake, fishing and enjoying the calm that comes with being near the water. These moments, while simple, are the ones that often feel the most grounding.

As a family, we also love celebrating and creating traditions. Decorating for holidays is something we go all in on—it’s not just about the decorations themselves, but about the experience of doing it together. It’s laughter, teamwork, and the shared excitement that fills our home during those times. It’s one of the many ways we continue to build a sense of belonging and joy for every child who walks through our doors.

This past year has tested us in ways we didn’t anticipate, but it has also reinforced what matters most. It has shown us the strength of our partnership, the depth of our patience, and the importance of continuing to hope even when outcomes are uncertain. While infertility has been part of our story this year, it does not define the entirety of who we are or the life we are building.

We are still here—still hopeful, still committed, and still focused on providing a loving, stable, and supportive home for every child in our care. No matter what the future holds, we know that the foundation we’ve built together is strong, and that the love in our home continues to grow in ways that aren’t always measured by outcomes, but by presence, care, and connection.

And in that, there is still so much to hold onto.