One woman, 23. At Christmas and Thanksgiving get togethers, she's asked when she's going to start a family. She's told she should be next and asked what she is waiting for.

Heartache. Her heart aches to carry a child to term. Her heart aches for the three she has lost in 9 months.

Ectopic pregnancy... it was her first. Excitement. She was so happy to find out she was pregnant that she forgot why she went to the doctor to begin with.

Bleeding. Oh no, what about the baby? A sad face and a soft hand touching her.

Emergency surgery. Removing the life she fought so hard to create. Guilt. Heartache for the loss of her first child caused by her reluctant signature.

Waking up. Surprise. She only has one fallopian tube now. The endometriosis she was told she didn't have has begun eating away at her reproductive organs, bowels, and bladder.

Shame. Shhhhh. Don't tell anyone, momma. She doesn't want them to know that she is struggling with infertility.

Recovery. A long road winding out of depression, the last semester of college, and on toward a two year marriage anniversary.

Two lines. Excitement that this time, it isn't ectopic. Doctors appointments. At the second one, she learns it is happening all over again. Papers. Call us if you feel like you want to hurt yourself or someone else.

Five days off work. She can't bring herself to get out of the bed. No "bump's first Thanksgiving or Christmas" posts. Recovery.

Two lines. Doctor appointments. The second of two appointments reminds her of her infertility. More papers. A gentle touch and more bittersweet words.

Acceptance. She's more than her ability to create. She's married, bought her first home, has a good job, and just received her bachelor's degree.

Empowering. She has accomplished so much. She is worth so much.

Self care. It helps her get through the days and she has finally stopped obsessing over the two lines.

Realization. She is me.