I have my left arm wrapped firmly around you, keeping you tucked safely into my chest, while my right hand holds the negative pregnancy test you’d just handed me. We’ve been married for about two years now, having gotten married right before lockdown in 2020, and have been trying for a baby for close to a year but with no success. There’s only one time you got a positive test, but it ended up being a false result. So needless to say: we’re both pretty devastated at this point.

I sigh as I press a kiss to the top of your head and toss the test in the trash can. “My sister has a friend who went through the adoption process, I can talk to them about it and start looking around,” I say softly. We agreed a few months ago that if we hit a year with no success, we’d start looking into adoption. I have no problem with how we get our little one as long as we finally get to start our own family, just like we’ve wanted for years.