The hardest part isn't the shots or the blood tests. It's the baby showers. It's my sister-in-law announcing number three at Easter dinner and me smiling so hard my face hurt and then crying in her upstairs bathroom. I love my nieces and nephews. I'm happy for every pregnant friend I have. And it hurts. Both are true.

What helps me: my RESOLVE support group, which meets the second Tuesday of the month. Women who get it without me having to explain. Walking. My mom, who stopped asking and started just hugging. And Greg, who holds my hand in the parking lot every time we go in for news.

Guys, this one's for you. People forget the husband. Everybody asks your wife how she's holding up, and they ask you how the Red Sox are doing. When it turned out part of the problem was me, I didn't tell a single friend for a year. That was dumb. When I finally told my buddy Sal, he said he and his wife went through two years of the same thing before their twins. I'd known him since fourth grade.

What helps me: being useful. I'm the shot guy, the calendar guy, the insurance-phone-call guy. Also, we're lucky: in Massachusetts the law requires insurance to cover infertility treatment, including IVF. In most states couples pay for all of this themselves. I don't know how they do it.

We transferred two of our frozen embryos on Friday, September 17. The blood test is next Wednesday. Holly is trying not to think about it every waking minute and failing. Greg is painting the spare room a neutral color that works for "office" or for "nursery," because we like to keep our options open.

If this one doesn't work, we'll take a little time and then we'll talk about what's next. We've already been to an adoption information night, and we both came out of it smiling. A family is a family, however it gets made. We'll update this page as soon as we know. Send baby dust!