Today marks the start of this year's Infertility Awareness Week. So I think it's appropriate to make you, reader, aware that Jacob and I are infertile.

What does this mean?

Medically speaking, it means that over the last two and a half years, the two of us together have experienced the following:

- Charting ovulation for 20 cycles
- At least 7 sit-down office visits with three different specialists
- Two rounds of Clomid
- 11 months' worth of supplements
- Two ultrasounds
- Giving 13 samples of body fluids for testing
- 1 sonohysterogram
- 1 surgery

To date, we've spent close to $2,500 and still no baby.

What's next on the menu?

- 1 to 2 months of birth control (oh, the irony)
- Many more ultrasounds
- Up to three subcutaneous (under the skin) injections a day for roughly two weeks to turn myself into an egg factory
- Many more vials of blood to be drawn for testing
- 1 injection to bring the eggs to maturation
- Retrieval of the eggs with, oh hey, another needle
- Fertilization of the eggs with a process called ICSI
- Three to five days of waiting before transferring the healthiest embryos back
- 8 weeks of intramuscular injections with a truly terrifying-looking needle

For those of you uninitiated, this means we're moving forward with IVF (in-vitro fertilization). We just need to save up to pay for the approximately $18,000 procedure first.

I don't often pay attention to expiration dates. In our apartment, milk and other dairy products are consumable until they develop a funky odor.

However, I couldn't help but feel a pang of bitter disappointment when I noticed the expiration date of a few items in our possession.

Like the stack of half-a-dozen pregnancy tests, purchased in more hopeful times, that expire within the next several months. Or the completely full, giant bottle of prenatal vitamins that expires at the end of the year.

It's crushing because those dates serve as a reminder of just how long we've been trying to have a baby. Unsuccessfully, obviously. And even though it's been more than two years, there's no telling how long it'll take to finally start our family. I suppose however long it takes to save up for IVF, which is what we'll most likely need to conceive.

Last month, we celebrated our third anniversary.

The month prior, we passed the two-year mark of "trying" for a baby.

Two years. In the time since we first started trying, six of our siblings have given birth to seven children. Three of those siblings are expecting again. Ten kids in the time we've tried to have one. Two years seems like an eternity, and yet I know that's only a fraction of the time some couples have had to wait for their children. For all we know, it could be another two years or more before we finally conceive.

You see, in May we were officially diagnosed with infertility. We had multiple doctor's appointments and tests administered. We were poked, prodded, and made to feel more than a little uncomfortable more than once. We had ultrasounds and took medication and supplements.

After our diagnosis, we clung to the hope that a surgery might be our golden ticket to getting a baby. Six months later, no baby. Not even a hint of a second line on any pregnancy test I've ever taken. And believe me, I've taken quite a few.

The irony of the Costco-sized boxes of tampons juxtaposed with the towering stack of 88-cent pregnancy tests underneath our bathroom sink is not lost on me. In more hopeful days, we would buy a few each time we went to Walmart, "just in case." I haven't bothered to take one in months. No point in getting my hopes up just to see a negative test and start my period a few hours later.

So now it's back to the drawing board. Back to doctor's appointments and tests. Unless the tests are drastically different from before, we'll most likely need IVF (in-vitro fertilization) or adoption to start our family. We haven't decided which we'll go for. It's a big decision. And it'll require a lot of financial planning on our part. IVF will cost around $13,000 out-of-pocket.  That's almost as much as our new (used) car. And of course we need to finish paying the car off before we can save up for fertility treatments.

Infertility is

Infertility is a giant stack of pregnancy tests next to your jumbo Costco size boxes of tampons.

Infertility is congratulating someone on her pregnancy, then later sobbing because it just doesn't seem fair that SHE is pregnant and YOU are not, and then feeling guilty for thinking that way.

Infertility is spending all of your free time researching supplements and treatments that might help your "problem."

Infertility is feeling incredibly angry and jealous when you hear or see a woman complain about her pregnancy symptoms. Or even when she talks about her pregnancy in a positive manner.

Infertility is doubting whether or not you and your husband will ever have a child.

Infertility is fielding questions and advice like "why don't you just try in-vitro/adopt?" or "relax; everything will work out."

Infertility is putting a smile on your face when a well-meaning individual tells you that this is the Lord's plan for you.

Infertility is feeling like the social outcast when you are the only childless couple among your friends and family.

Infertility is blocking certain individuals from Facebook because it seems like every post is about their pregnancy/their precious baby and you just can't handle it anymore.

Infertility is getting your hopes up every month, that this is it, only to have them come crashing down around you when it becomes clear that you aren't pregnant.

Infertility is losing that hope that you'll ever get pregnant.

Infertility is dreaming almost every night that you have a baby, and then waking up and realizing that dream might not ever come true.

Infertility is waiting: waiting for the next doctor appointment, waiting for the test results to come in, waiting for your period to start, waiting to become a parent, etc.

Infertility is contacting your doctor because you just started your third period in a month's time and something must surely be wrong.

Infertility is taking a pregnancy test on doctor's orders, even though you know -- you KNOW! -- it's going to be negative.

Infertility is feeling nothing when the pregnancy test is negative: not sadness, not anger, not disappointment.

Infertility is learning to put on a brave face when you know you're going to be around children or babies or pregnant women, then sometimes coming home and falling apart.

Infertility is attending a baby shower and dissolving into tears afterwards.

Infertility is using the money you saved for the expenses involved in your first child's birth towards the expenses involved in your first child's conception instead.