I had been married for two years when I was diagnosed with lupus. I was thirty one years old at the time. My husband and I had decided to enjoy our time together before making any hurried decisions about family. Our deadline was to make a decision by the time I turned thirty-five.

The lupus diagnosis came after about eight years of strange symptoms and misdiagnoses. In that respect, it was a blessing. It finally gave me clarity on all the bizarre, seemingly coincidental medical issues I had experienced.