Sarah and I first met the day we moved into the same dorm as freshmen in college, back in August 2010. It felt like a stroke of fate that Sarah had been randomly assigned a roommate I actually knew from my hometown. That night, we ended up at the same dorm party, and from the moment my roommate and I met Sarah, there was an instant connection. The very next day, Sarah and a friend wandered the dorm hall, eventually stopping by our room. From then on, it felt like we couldn’t spend a moment apart—making nightly plans, catching up between classes, and sharing countless laughs in every free moment.
At the time, neither of us identified as gay. The idea of dating a girl had never even crossed my mind. But a few months in, Sarah confided in me and our friends that she thought she liked girls. I wasn’t phased, and even when Sarah and I kissed on some of our wild nights out, I didn’t immediately assign it any meaning. I did notice, however, that I started feeling jealous and protective whenever Sarah had romantic interests, though I chalked it up to being a good friend who wanted the best for her. By the end of our freshman year, I had started dating a guy from our dorm hall while Sarah was seeing a girl consistently.
Our late-night kissing streaks didn’t stop, even though we both had partners. My boyfriend seemed fine with it, and honestly, Sarah and I simply found each other irresistible. Eventually, though, the streak slowed down as our relationships stabilized—Sarah with her serious girlfriend, and me with my boyfriend. Then, at the very beginning of our senior year, both our relationships hit rocky waters. One night out, Sarah and I found ourselves sharing a blanket on the couch, cuddling so closely it probably looked more than friendly to anyone watching. That night, we ended up in my room, talking, laughing, and stealing kisses. In the morning, we agreed to keep it a secret, but my heart had already shifted. After a few days of texting, thinking, and realizing how strongly we felt, we knew something had to change. We both ended our relationships and began seeing each other openly.
Though we didn’t make our relationship official until March 2014, we had been dating since October 2013. After graduating from SUNY Cortland in May 2014, we moved back home—Sarah to Long Island, me to Staten Island—and navigated long-distance for just over a year, seeing each other mostly on weekends. In the summer of 2015, we moved into our first apartment together in New York City’s Upper East Side. It was a magical time—our first real home as a couple. Two years later, in 2017, we got engaged at Tavern on the Green in Central Park. Sarah had me flip the dessert menu, which revealed the words, “Will you marry me?” I immediately said yes, and before Sarah could even sit down, I pulled out a ring from my purse and said, “Only if you marry me.” Both of our dreams came true in that moment, and we couldn’t stop laughing and crying at the same time.
After about a year and a half in NYC, we purchased our first home together in Rockland County in 2019. Just six weeks after moving in, we celebrated our dream wedding at the Barn at Perona Farms in New Jersey. It was, without a doubt, one of the happiest days of our lives. Although we had originally planned to wait a couple of years before trying for children, we always knew we wanted to pursue reciprocal IVF—so I could carry Sarah’s baby, and she could carry mine. Then, COVID changed our plans.
In August 2020, we had planned a “euromoon” trip to Greece, but like so many others, it was canceled. Instead, we decided to take our first step toward starting a family. The earliest appointment at the fertility clinic coincided with our originally planned travel dates—it felt like a sign. Our first visit revealed that I had a quiet ovary, which meant only one ovary would produce eggs instead of two. It wasn’t a problem, but it could reduce our chances. Still, we stayed hopeful. Both of us were under 30, healthy, and had regular cycles. We completed bloodwork for genetics to narrow our sperm donor search.
We were stunned to learn that none of the process would be covered by insurance. Though unexpected, it didn’t deter us. Two weeks later, genetic testing results came in, helping us filter potential sperm donors. After months of searching, we found an ideal donor just in time for my egg retrieval cycle in Halloween 2020. I took stimulation shots for 10–12 days, and on November 10, 15 eggs were retrieved—average but promising. Seven of them fertilized, and four embryos were sent for genetic testing. Only one came back genetically normal. It was a hard pill to swallow—we had so many hopes riding on these eggs, and only one embryo made it through.
Sarah’s egg retrieval in December 2020 went differently. She retrieved 23 eggs, 13 fertilized, and four embryos went for testing. Three came back genetically normal. Our excitement and relief were overwhelming—we had four embabies waiting for us.
In January 2021, we had our first embryo transfer, using one of Sarah’s embryos. We felt hopeful, especially with my early symptoms, but home tests didn’t show positive results. Bloodwork confirmed what we feared: the transfer didn’t take. The heartbreak was crushing, leaving only three embryos remaining. We then prepared for an ERA cycle to test my uterine lining, discovering I needed 12 more hours of progesterone, which likely explained the first failure.
Our second frozen embryo transfer was on April 23, 2021. I could feel a difference this time—tugging in my lower abdomen and frequent urination made me hopeful. We resisted home testing, knowing the wait for bloodwork would be the true confirmation. On April 30, the call came. “Hi Victoria, this is Dr. B… congratulations, YOU ARE PREGNANT!” My heart nearly stopped. I called Sarah, played the voicemail, and we cried, laughed, and held each other, overwhelmed by the joy of finally beginning our family.
From our first accidental dorm meeting to our journey through love, marriage, IVF, and parenthood, every challenge, every laugh, and every tear led us here. We are endlessly grateful for this journey of love, resilience, and life together.
