Sometimes I look around my house and marvel at how quiet it is.
There was a time when I would have given almost anything for the chance to hear little feet running through these halls. For years, that dream felt just out of reach. While friends announced pregnancies and celebrated baby showers, Michael and I quietly carried a different story. One filled with hope, heartbreak, prayer, and more waiting than I thought a heart could endure.
Today, our daughter Emma is 22 years old. She is thriving, independent, and building a life of her own. Looking at her now, it is hard to believe how long we waited to meet her.
My journey from IVF to empty nester spans more than two decades and includes an infertility journey filled with hope, heartbreak, faith, and unexpected blessings. It is a story of loss and joy, disappointment and gratitude, and learning that every season of life has something beautiful to offer.
If you are walking through infertility, miscarriage, IVF, or even the quiet transition into an empty nest, I hope my story reminds you that you are not alone.
IVF to Empty Nester: The Beginning
Michael and I were married in 1994. Like many couples, we assumed that when we were ready to start a family, it would happen naturally. Five years later, we were still waiting.
Between 1999 and 2005, our infertility journey revolved around doctor’s appointments, treatments, difficult conversations, and learning how to keep hoping when the answers were not coming. Before we ever stepped into a fertility specialist’s office, I experienced three miscarriages, making infertility and miscarriage a painful reality in our lives. Each one brought its own heartbreak. Each one left me wondering what I had done wrong.
That was probably one of the hardest parts of the journey. I blamed myself. I questioned myself. I wondered what I had done to deserve this.
At the same time, many of our close friends were welcoming babies into the world. I was genuinely happy for them. I celebrated with them. I held their babies and shared in their joy.
But deep down, I wanted to be where they were. I wanted to be a mom.
When we finally began working with a fertility specialist around 2001, we started with four rounds of IUI. All four failed. Then came an ectopic pregnancy. That experience ultimately led to the removal of my fallopian tubes. Thankfully, my ovaries remained intact, which meant IVF was still an option. Even so, every setback felt like another door closing.
Looking back, I can see God’s hand carrying us through those years even when I could not understand what He was doing.
The Phone Call in a Walmart Parking Lot
After four failed IUIs, an ectopic pregnancy, surgery, and years of wondering if motherhood would ever happen for us, we decided to move forward with IVF.
We would eventually go through three IVF cycles. The first one gave us the greatest gift of our lives.
I still remember exactly where I was when we got the news. Michael and I were sitting in a Walmart parking lot during our lunch break from work. We had become so accustomed to waiting for phone calls from doctors that our lives often felt like they were measured in test results and appointments.
Then the phone rang.
The doctor was calling with the results. After years of disappointment, years of hoping and praying, we finally heard the words we had been longing to hear. Our IVF success story was beginning.
I was pregnant. Michael and I were absolutely over the moon.
The emotions came all at once. Relief. Joy. Disbelief. Fear. I am not sure one emotion was stronger than the others. We had wanted this for so long that it almost felt impossible to believe it was finally happening.
Unlike some couples who wait to share the news, we immediately told our family and friends. They had walked this road with us. They had cried with us, prayed for us, encouraged us, and celebrated every small victory along the way. This was their victory too.
At 35 years old and pregnant through IVF, I was considered high risk. Although it was an IVF pregnancy, it progressed relatively smoothly and allowed us to celebrate each milestone with gratitude. That meant more appointments and more ultrasounds than most expectant mothers receive.
Oddly enough, that became one of my favorite parts of the pregnancy. Every ultrasound felt like a gift. Every appointment gave me another chance to see the little baby we had prayed so hard for.
As for cravings, I kept things interesting. Scrambled eggs, Cheetos, and watermelon became some of my favorite foods. Looking back, I am still not sure what kind of nutritional plan that was, but it worked for me.
One thing Michael and I agreed on from the beginning was that we did not want to know the baby’s gender before birth. We wanted at least one surprise. You know, it is the ONLY true surprise in life. Our friends were astounded!! They wanted to know. How could I plan if we did not know? Well, they had to live with it. This was our decision, and we were standing firm! After everything we had been through, we felt like we had earned one BIG surprise.
Our IVF Success Story Began Here
When the day finally arrived, I was excited, nervous, and completely overwhelmed. Then came the moment I will never forget. The doctor announced that our baby was a girl. A girl. After years of waiting, praying, hoping, and wondering if this day would ever come, we finally met our daughter. Emma Grace.
The tears flowed immediately.
I cannot adequately describe what it felt like to see her for the first time. All those years of infertility, all the procedures, all the disappointments, and all the fears suddenly faded into the background.
She was here. She was healthy. She had 10 fingers and 10 toes. She was ours.
One of my favorite memories from that day was watching Michael become a father. The moment he saw Emma, I could see something change in him. His protective instincts appeared instantly.
Before we had even left the hospital, I could already see how deeply he loved her. My heart nearly burst watching the two of them together. After everything we had endured to get to that moment, seeing him hold our daughter made every struggle feel worthwhile.
For years, we had prayed for a child. Now she was finally in our arms.
The Years I Waited For
People often focus on the moment a baby arrives, but the truth is that the years that follow are where the real magic happens. Motherhood after infertility carries a unique perspective. After waiting so long to become a parent, even the ordinary moments felt extraordinary. Those years were some of the busiest and happiest of my life.
I was fortunate enough to spend 11 years as a stay-at-home mom. Like most mothers, I often felt exhausted, stretched thin, and occasionally overwhelmed. Yet I would not trade those years for anything.
- I became Room Mom.
- PTA Mom.
- Yearbook photographer.
- Soccer Mom.
- Cookie baker.
- Craft coordinator.
- Professional finder of missing shoes.
- Keeper of schedules.
- Reader of bedtime stories.
I loved every minute of it.
Well, maybe not every minute. There were certainly moments when I wondered if silence would ever return to my life. But looking back now, those noisy, busy days became some of my most treasured memories.
Emma played soccer from the age of five until she was fifteen. She loved the game, but more importantly, she loved the friendships she built along the way.
She also participated in choir during middle school and was active in our church youth group. Watching her grow, develop her own interests, and become her own person was one of the greatest joys of motherhood.
Of all the memories I cherish, two stand out.
The first is watching her play dress-up. She would disappear into her room and emerge wearing one of my old prom dresses, a Disney costume, oversized heels, and enough pretend lipstick to make any beauty consultant proud. She would parade through the house as though she were walking a Hollywood red carpet.
The second memory is much quieter.
Almost every night, after we had tucked her into bed and finished reading a story, she would ask for just one more.
- One more book.
- One more chapter.
- One more story.
At the time, I sometimes looked at the clock and thought about everything else I needed to do before going to bed. Today, I would give almost anything for one more story.
Becoming an Empty Nester
As parents, we spend years preparing our children to leave us. Then one day they actually do.
I always knew the day would come when Emma would head off to college. After all, that is the goal of parenting. We raise our children to become independent adults who can build lives of their own.
Knowing it is coming and being ready for it are two very different things.
When Emma enrolled at Auburn University, Michael and I were still living in Georgia. We would not move to Auburn until well into her second year of college.
Move-in day arrived just as it does every year in the South. Hot. Not just warm. Not just sunny. Hot. The kind of heat that makes you question every life choice that brought you outdoors in August.
Despite the heat, I loved helping her set up her dorm room. We organized. We decorated. We arranged furniture. We figured out where everything belonged.
For a few hours, it felt a little like setting up a bedroom at home. But eventually the boxes were unpacked. The bed was made. The room was ready. And so was Emma.
I held myself together remarkably well. At least while we were still on campus. I smiled. I hugged her. I told her I loved her. I reminded her to call home. I did everything a mother is supposed to do. Then Michael and I got into the car.
And I cried.
Not because I thought she would fail. Not because I was worried she could not handle college. Not because I regretted anything. I cried because a chapter had ended. The little girl who once dressed up in prom dresses and begged for one more bedtime story no longer needed me in the same way. She was becoming her own person. That realization is both beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.
When we arrived home, the silence was deafening. The house felt too clean. Too organized. Too quiet. No soccer schedules. No youth group activities. No school projects spread across the dining room table. No requests for rides. No laughter drifting down the hallway. Just quiet.
For the first time in more than two decades, Michael and I were entering a new season.
Navigating the Empty Nester Journey
One thing that surprised me about becoming an empty nester was how quickly Michael and I settled into a new rhythm. Our empty nest journey looked different than I expected. Like many parents experiencing an empty nest transition, I had to rediscover who I was beyond the role of Mom.
After years of schedules centered around Emma, we suddenly found ourselves with more time for each other. Date nights became easier. Conversations lasted longer. Weekend plans required less coordination. In many ways, we rediscovered the couple we had been before we became parents.
I think people often misunderstand the empty nest phase. Many assume parents sit around all day missing their children and wishing they would move back home. That has not been our experience.
Do I miss having Emma at home? Absolutely. Would I love to hear her footsteps coming down the hallway every day? Of course. But that does not mean I spend my days pining away for her. Quite honestly, watching her build her own life brings me tremendous joy. That is exactly what we spent years preparing her to do.
The bigger challenge for me was figuring out who I was after motherhood stopped being my full-time identity.
For years, my schedule revolved around being Mom. My priorities revolved around being Mom. Many of my daily responsibilities revolved around being Mom. Then suddenly they did not. I had to learn how to put myself and Michael first again. That adjustment took time. I began focusing more on blogging, caregiving, church activities, helping others, and investing in the relationships that matter most.
Little by little, I discovered that empty nesting is not an ending. It is simply another beginning.
What I Would Tell the Woman Sitting in the Fertility Clinic
If I could sit beside the younger version of myself in a fertility clinic waiting room, I would probably take her hand and tell her a few things.
First, this is not your fault. Not the miscarriages. Not the failed treatments. Not the ectopic pregnancy. Not the infertility. None of it.
For years I carried far more guilt than I should have. I questioned myself. I wondered what I had done wrong. I searched for answers where there simply were none.
I would tell her to stop carrying a burden that was never hers to carry.
Second, I would tell her to be patient. Not because patience is easy. It is not. Not because waiting is fun. It certainly is not. But because some of life’s greatest blessings arrive on a timetable we do not control.
Finally, I would tell her to cherish every little moment. The sleepless nights. The soccer games. The school projects. The bedtime stories. The dress-up adventures. The ordinary Tuesdays. Those moments feel endless while you are living them. Then one day you realize they were actually flying by.
The Miracle Was Never Just the Pregnancy
For a long time, I thought the miracle was getting pregnant. And it was. Life after IVF gave me far more than I imagined possible. It gave me the chance to become a mother, watch a little girl grow into a remarkable young woman, and eventually learn to embrace a new season as an empty nester.
But now, with a little more perspective, I realize the miracle was much bigger than that.
- The miracle was becoming a family.
- The miracle was watching Michael become a father.
- The miracle was hearing little feet run through the house.
- The miracle was bedtime stories and soccer games.
- The miracle was choir concerts and youth group events.
- The miracle was watching a little girl grow into a confident young woman.
- The miracle was learning that love changes as our children grow.
- And the miracle was discovering that even after they leave home, they never truly leave our hearts.
Today Emma is 22 years old. We enjoy a wonderful relationship. We have learned how to communicate as adults. We enjoy spending time together in ways that look different from when she was a child, but are no less meaningful.
When I look back on the journey from IVF to empty nester, I see heartbreak, joy, disappointment, hope, faith, and gratitude woven together in ways I never could have imagined.
If your story includes infertility, miscarriage, IVF, adoption, loss, or an empty nest, I want you to know something.
- You are not alone.
- Your feelings are valid.
- Your journey matters.
- And most importantly, none of this is your fault.
Life rarely unfolds exactly as we plan it. Mine certainly did not. But sometimes the most beautiful chapters are the ones we never saw coming. And for that, I will always be grateful.