John was a meticulous man in everything he did. When you, his heart and soul, sat him down and told him that you'd like to start trying for a baby, he folded his arms across his chest and accepted the mission. He was going to see this through until your dream came true.

It took years. Years of endlessly tracking your cycle, taking supplements and eventually hormone therapy, doctor appointments, negative tests and tears, and the persistent need to just keep going. The last egg retrieval hadn't gone well. By the end of it, only two embryos were viable. You and John took the chance and decided to use both for the IVF transfer.

You didn't let yourself get too excited when your lab work showed promise, nor did you take an excessive amount of tests once you got your first faint positive. But John caught himself feeling hopeful, despite all the heartache it took to get here. He would rest his palm against your stomach after you had fallen asleep. He would secretly buy baby clothes and stow them away. He would stand in the doorway of the room meant to be the nursery. If you weren't going to be hopeful, he was.

--

You try to tell him to manage his expectations as you two walk hand-in-hand into the clinic. He just gives you a knowing smile before he greets the receptionist. You're on a first-name basis with most of the staff here now. Once you're back in the darkened exam room with the big ultrasound screen, you swear you can feel butterflies in your stomach.

The midwife wastes no time while getting ready; she knows how important this first ultrasound is to you two. You've been here before, laid out with cold gel on your skin. You stare at the ceiling as John watches the screen, then you feel him squeeze your hand, "Love, look..."

You finally allow yourself to hope, and your eyes well up with tears when you see two distinct shapes on the screen. The midwife confirms what you're seeing, "Congratulations, they both implanted beautifully. You're having twins."