My mom had 4 kids before she turned 30, so I never thought I would have any trouble getting pregnant. My college friend, who had endometriosis, and I would joke that someday I could be her surrogate. Funny thing is, she wound up giving birth to two children and I can't even conceive one. I got married at 28, started trying for kids at 30, and by 32 I found out I was in peri-menopause. My husband and I tried multiple rounds of IUI with no success, and decided to put our efforts into adoption. While we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl through adoption three years later, not a month goes by that I don't hope that maybe this is the month I'm late - not because I didn't ovulate but because I'm pregnant. We wait again on the adoption list (30 months this week), and I still find myself jealous of those pregnancy announcements, unfollowing friends on facebook who are complaining about the morning sickness or big bellies, and wiping away my tears at nights because my daughter will be four this year, and we haven't been able to give her a sibling. Yet, if it weren't for our struggles and the blessing of adoption, my husband and I would never have the girl that was so clearly meant to be our daughter.