The end of one journey and beginning of an even bigger one.

So, here is the happy ending to the story of my quest to becoming a mother. The late spring and summer of '04 were a time of celebrating major family events and trying to get back to having a normal relationship with my husband. While I had put away the cycle mapping calendar and was no longer on any fertility drugs, it was hard to put the whole notion of getting pregnant out of my mind. I decided I needed to focus my energy on something constructive: I started researching different foster care and adoption options. John and I had each had a desire to eventually adopt a child before we even met but we both thought we'd have at least one of our own first. Maybe this was the route we were supposed to go first, I thought. So, I began the early stages of gathering information.

My baby brother graduated from high school that June and as a graduation present, my parents bought him a plane ticket to come visit us in California. He came in July and we had a blast. It was so fun to have him here...we went to Universal Studios, he and John went camping in Yosemite and he and I got to have quite a bit of brother-sister time. The only major bummer was that one of the last days he was here was, what turned out to be, the last time I'd ever be devastated over not being pregnant. Even though we weren't officially trying, that month was particularly painful and difficult. My poor brother just wasn't quite sure what to do with me, but having him around really cheered me up.

Fast forward a few weeks and John and I were planning a camping trip to our favorite remote spot up near Yosemite for Labor Day weekend. The whole week before, though, I was feeling miserable. I was almost two weeks late at that point, but after the whole giant cyst fiasco, I just refused to start taking tests and getting my hopes up anymore. This time was different, though. John knew it and I knew it. Friday night, as we laid on the couch, John was practically begging me to take a test. His theory was that if the test was negative, I could at least take some drugs (just Tylenol or Advil, of course, all though by this point pot was beginning to sound awfully good to me!!!) OR if we were actually pregnant, I'd be so thrilled that I'd be in a much better mood. I refused. Nope, not gonna do it. The next morning, I decided that I was just not feeling up to camping. John agreed that we didn't have to go, but he was insistent that I take a test. Fine, I said!!! I'll take the test but I'm NOT going to look at it. Ok, just pee on the d**m stick, he begged. So, off I went, peed on the stick and went and laid flat on my face on our bed. A couple minutes later, I heard him go in the bathroom then nothing. I fully expected to hear him open the garbage can and toss it in. Nothing. So, I looked up and he walked out of the bathroom. He had this grin on his face I had only seen once before: the first time he saw me in my wedding dress on our wedding day. I immediately starting jumping up and down on the bed, screaming hysterically!!!! I don't even remember if he said the word "positive" or what he said...his face said it all. I literally screamed til my throat hurt and I was completely out of breath. It felt surreal. All of a sudden, I thought, no way...it must be wrong. I need to take another one. Off we went to WalMart and bought the most ridiculous assortment of pregnancy test...store brand, national brand, lined tests, digital tests....you name it, we got one! We went home and took about a dozen more. Positive, positive, positive, and, oh, yes, positive!!!! By this time it was afternoon and we decided that we were going to skip going to the mountains so we could be in cell range to call all the people we wanted to share our joy with.

I had dreamt of this day for so long. We were pregnant....there was a teeny, tiny baby growing inside of me. Instead of the immediate onslaught of worrisome thoughts I would have expected from my brain, I had a complete sense of peace come over me that day. We were going to get to meet this baby. I had no idea the unbelievable amount of nausea, vomiting, swelling and other lovely things growing this baby would involve, but it just didn't matter...we were finally having a baby!

I could hardly contain myself telling my parent they were going to become grandparents for the first time. My sister was thrilled. My brother was so happy that I was not blubbering through tears of pain and disappointment this time. We were suddenly living in a state of total elation. Even the next week when we went to see the doctor, I still felt like I was on cloud 9. Seeing my doctor's reaction when he walked in his office and saw all the "new OB patient" paperwork on my chart was priceless. He was so happy for us. He teased me when I told him how many tests we took and said, "Let me save you some money next time....if one is positive, they're all going to be positive." I didn't care! I knew I had peed on a ridiculous amount of money, but it just didn't matter!

39 weeks after our miracle baby was conceived, our little boy, Caleb James Nidever made a very dramatic entry into the world. It was not even remotely close to the all natural child birth we had expected to have, but after an abrupted placenta and a crash c-section that looked like a scene from "ER", all that mattered was that both he and I survived and were healthy. Caleb James. Our miracle boy. The beginning of my life as a feisty red-headed mom of boys.