However, I sensed a crack in his armor. He was softening. He knew only one thing in this world would fill the aching void I felt, and that one thing was downy soft, sweet smelling (most of the time), and had the power to light up the whole room with one toothless grin.
Finally, he agreed to go through it all again—just one more time for three more cycles, a total time commitment of six months. I screeched, dove for the phone, and made an appointment with an infertility specialist right in Wyomissing, just minutes from our home. With my first pregnancy, I had driven an hour away to Allentown, Pennsylvania. Although I obviously had success with that doctor, I felt the convenience of seeing a respected doctor in our own town made much sense, especially with two busy two-year-olds at home.