I miscarried that baby before I could decide not to have it. That was the first of four miscarriages, one of them ectopic and so severe I nearly bled to death. After my third miscarriage, doctors told me I most likely wouldn’t conceive again. I believed them and resigned myself to the reality that I would be the best aunt ever to my beloved nieces and nephews and that would be more than enough for me.

Until Nick Cappuano came back into my life six years after I first met him, and resurrected my desire for a family—mostly because he’d never had much in the way of family growing up. My infertility struggles took on new meaning after we were married. I desperately wished the doctors had been wrong, that I might conceive after all.

Sam wiped away tears that flowed freely down her cheeks as they usually did when she thought or talked about this subject. She was thankful that Lilia and the others had left her alone to read the speech for the first time. Wiping her eyes with a tissue, she forced herself to continue through the most difficult part of her story, the devastating miscarriage she’d suffered last winter in the midst of the Lightfeather investigation.

Here I thought I couldn’t get pregnant, and I was miscarrying again, before I’d even officially confirmed I was pregnant. That was a tough one. Perhaps the toughest of all. But there was a silver lining, if you can call it that. The doctors had been wrong. I could conceive again—and if I’d done it once, chances were I could do it again. The aftermath of that fourth miscarriage was one of the lowest points in my life. While mourning the loss of a baby I wanted desperately, I faced a tremendously difficult decision—should I try again, one more time, knowing the odds were stacked against me, or should I accept that it just wasn’t in the cards for me to carry a child of my own? I thought about this dilemma constantly. I worried I wouldn’t bounce back from another devastating loss, so I feared taking the risk. Nick and I talked about it, and as always, he said he’d go along with whatever decision I was most comfortable with. He’s been amazingly supportive on this subject from day one. I’ve never felt any pressure from him. Before we adopted Scotty, he said he’d be completely satisfied if our family was only the two of us. Our family feels far more complete with Scotty now part of it, and since he came to live with us, I’ve found myself thinking about my own fertility struggles far less often than I used to.