Year 3 of infertility. No answers. Just continuous hope mixed with really dark moments.

The kind of year that changes you quietly. The kind that teaches you how to keep showing up even when your heart is tired.

But somewhere in the waiting, Jackson and I locked into each other harder than ever before. Through the grief, the questions, the disappointment, the “what now?” moments — we chose each other over and over again.

This year wasn’t about getting the miracle we prayed for yet. It was about surviving the silence together. Learning how to hold hope with shaky hands. Learning how to love each other through the unknown.

Year 3 hurt. But it also reminded me that even in the darkest moments, we were never carrying it alone.