1 in 8.
15 percent of the United States population.
Nearly 7.4 million people.
That is how many men and women struggle to build their family.
It could be your friend, your neighbor, your brother, sister, or cousin. It might even be you.
And while the statistics are important to know, it doesn’t even begin to tell the magnitude of what it is like to struggle with this disease (yes, infertility is a disease). Infertility is tough. Really tough. When I began walking this road, I wasn’t prepared. I was naive. I thought infertility was simply the inability to conceive after one year of actively trying. And rightfully so. Because isn’t that the definition? But ask me now, many years after leaving my doctor’s office numb and confused while holding a pamphlet on Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), then going through several failed treatment cycles including one ending in a miscarriage, and I will quickly tell you that the definition Google search gave me years ago is not even close to being accurate. And maybe if you are walking this same path you concur. Because infertility, when you break it down, is so much more than just the inability to conceive. However, many do not talk about the ugly side of it. Many do not share their deepest, darkest secrets of how they fear their spouse will leave them in order to build their family with someone else. Or how they are depressed and unable to get out of bed due to their loss of self-worth and joy. Or how they are angry at God; shaking their fist to the heavens, and losing their faith.
Those are words we keep bottled up inside our soul or only pour out into our locked diaries. But today, I am exposing the truth behind infertility. I am opening up the pages of my journal, the ones I would literally lose sleep over if someone picked it up to read, and I am sharing it with you in hope that those who do not know this struggle can better understand the pain, the heartache, and the intense roller coaster of emotions someone who is 1 in 8 goes through. It’s long. It’s raw. It’s uncut and it’s messy. Some of them end on a positive note, while others do not. I purposefully did this because that’s how it goes. I wanted to show the real side of infertility, because it is more than just the inability to conceive. Some days you can pick yourself back up and carry on, while other days you can barely keep breathing.
August 23rd, 2014: Depression and Infertility
Today is hard. I didn’t want to get out of bed or even speak to anyone. I am not proud of who I am and how I am allowing infertility to affect me. But I try to give myself grace and grieve when I need to because studies show that those who go through infertility have the same levels of anxiety and depression as do women with cancer and heart disease. Therefore, today, I will feel my feelings, and I will feel them fully. I will also not be ashamed of doing so either because you know what? It’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to have a meltdown…just as long as I don’t unpack and live there.
April 11, 2015: Baby Showers are Hard
I went to a baby shower today. I sat quietly at the table in the back with my purse perfectly placed in my lap and my arms neatly resting on top. I made sure I smiled on the outside but on the inside? My heart was breaking, and my soul was crushing as I looked around at the other women in the room. Their arms were not empty but full. Their laps were not filled with purses but rather giggly toddlers. And as they talked about the joys of motherhood, my womb began to ache. Tears began to form. Ugh! I kept telling myself to keep it together…to not cry. And for the most part, I did. But it was hard. I didn’t want to go. But it was my best friend’s baby shower. I didn’t want to play the games. But everyone else was playing, and I didn’t want it to look awkward if I wasn’t. I also didn’t want to answer “the question.” It’s the question that makes all women struggling to conceive upset and uncomfortable, even if it’s for a second. It’s the one that makes me ashamed as my heart races, my palms become sweaty, and my stomach hurts. It’s the question in which I have to answer, “No. I don’t have any children.” And so, with each glance I made around the room today, with each child I saw curled up in a lap, with each question I reluctantly answered, and with each story I listened to about motherhood, I felt different. I felt alone. I felt broken.
January 6, 2015: Infertility is Like a Grave
Infertility is frustrating. It is gut-wrenching. Dream shattering. Faith shaking. And depressing. It is loving a child whom I have never even met and missing them fiercely every day. It’s like a grave that keeps following me around day after day as it swallows my hope and buries more and more of my dreams with each tear that I shed. It’s a constant war between my body and my soul. A war that I must fight to win daily and a war that is exhausting, yet I battle on.
March 10th, 2015: Infertility is Just Not Fair!
I just don’t understand why those who abuse their children are given such blessings. But me? I have to fight and work and struggle beyond my strength and exhaust all my resources in order to receive them. Correction…I have to fight and work and struggle beyond my strength and exhaust all my resources in order to HOPEFULLY receive them. And if I hear one more time from someone who all their husband has to do is look at them and BAM! They are pregnant, I will scream! And throw a fit. And pop their head like a….well, never mind.
May 29th, 2015: I’m Exhausted!
THIS.IS.EXHAUSTING. Today, I took a pregnancy test, and surprise, surprise! It was negative (eye roll). I am sick of going through the five stages of grief every single month. Because that is what infertility is like. It’s letting your hopes sore for a few days or weeks, anticipating that surely, this time, I will become a mommy. But only to have my hopes plummet as I watch my dreams die with yet ANOTHER negative pregnancy test. It’s going from SHOCK after seeing only one line. To DENIAL, I find myself running throughout the house, searching and squinting for the other. All the while BARGAINING with God to make the impossible possible. And it’s while bargaining with Him I become ANGRY as I realize that He can, yet He hasn’t. And possibly won’t…at least not this time. It’s getting passed the feelings of anger and finding myself depressed as I CRY over the death of my dreams for that month. And it’s only after hours or even days of mourning the loss of what I had hoped that I start to ACCEPT that this month was once again not the one. And so then comes the daunting task of picking myself back up and starting all over again. Maybe with a little more hope, or maybe not. Either way, I am exhausted, yet at the same time, ready to fight. Ready to chase after my dreams one.more.time.
July 23rd, 2015: I Will Hold You In My Heart
Dear sweet little one who was gone too soon…
I often wonder about you. Your face shape. Your smile. The way you would have hugged or blown me kisses.
I wonder if you would have been a momma’s boy or a daddy’s girl. And what color hair would I have twirled in between my fingers? Or the color of eyes I would have gazed into while rocking you to sleep.
I wonder if I would have been able to recognize you by your daddy’s pudgy nose or see myself in your personality.
And I often wonder what a day would be like in which my heart didn’t ache. And I didn’t have to always try to imagine what the sound of your giggle would have been like. Or the pitter-patter of your tiny feet coming towards me.
I see boys and girls your age, and I can’t help but wonder. And I can’t help but dream. But most of all, I can’t help but cry.
Dear sweet little one who was gone too soon…
Please know that I will always wonder about you. I will always love you. And I will always hold you in my heart until I can hold you, and snuggle you, and nestle you in heaven.
Love,
Your Momma
September 9th, 2015: My Life Feels Stuck
Today, I was scrolling through Facebook, and I saw pictures of my friends with their beautiful growing families; while I can normally scroll through and not give it a second thought, today, I couldn’t. I will be 32 years old this year, and my life looks nothing like the plans I had made and envisioned for myself. In my early 20s, I just knew that by the time I was 30, I would own a home with a big backyard and a swimming pool so that the four kids I just knew I would have by now could laugh, splash, and eat yummy popsicles while I soaked up not just the sun, but their innocence. Obviously, that plan didn’t work out. And so today, when I stopped to look at all of the gorgeous pictures and read all of the mommy status updates, I couldn’t help but feel as though my life had been pulled backward. And I couldn’t help but just feel stuck.
October 19th, 2015: STOP with the Advice Already!
Today, I have had my fill! I am so sick of the unsolicited advice, the awe-inspiring stories of hope, and the empty words of comfort such as, “Don’t worry, it will happen.” Seriously! If I had a dollar for every time I was educated on the best vitamins to increase my egg quality, the magic pill that will balance my hormones, or the latest medical science proven to guarantee conception, I could go out and buy that vacation to Hawaii that my friend suggested I should take. Because, after all? Her Uncle’s niece, who has a friend from college, took one, and she came home pregnant! With twins! {Insert my fake squeal occupied by an eye roll} But seriously! I wish people would stop telling me to “just relax” or “everything happens for a reason.” I know they mean well, but right now, I just need them to listen. Not talk. Is that too much to ask?
December 14th, 2015: Am I Being Punished?
Dear rude lady at church,
I thought when you came up to me today and wrapped your arms around my neck that I was safe. You asked me how long I had been trying to conceive, and I told you almost four years of trying and another 5 of “trying but not trying.” You tilted your head to the side and gave me an emphatic look, and I thought you were going to encourage my heart or tell me that you were sorry for the circumstances that I was dealing with. But you didn’t. Instead, you told me that because I have been struggling for so long, maybe I need to dig deep and find my hidden sin (insert bug eyes). How dare you! How dare you tell me that! I no longer respect you, and you are the reason why I advocate so hard for those struggling to conceive. Statements such as the one you made to me only push people further away from God during this difficult time in their lives, not closer. And while it pains me to admit this, it’s because of you that every month I don’t see those two pink lines, I hear your “advice,” and I have to kick harder back up to the surface to breathe. But that’s okay. It’s also because of you that I am now stronger. And you know what else? I have become more at peace with God since our encounter because He has reassured me time and time again that you were wrong (and out of line). His son’s blood has already paid the hefty price for my sins, and I am not being punished. Then. Now. Or ever.
December 19, 2015: Baby’s First Christmas Outfit
I couldn’t help but stop and admire the display of “Baby’s First Christmas” outfits before picking one of them up today. It was so tiny and cute. Especially the one with the reindeer footsies. A stranger passing by would have thought I was there to look for the needed size before tossing it in my cart and continuing on my way, but if they had stopped for even just a second, they would have seen my tears. Tears that carried a sense of loss and grief as each one represented a dream that had been broken. A plan that had been shattered. A prayer that had gone unanswered. A soul that felt crushed. And a womb–my empty womb–that was aching.
I didn’t purchase that “Baby’s First Christmas” outfit that day, but I did the next. My plan is to carry it around with me. Maybe even tuck it underneath my pillow or hang it in the front of my closet. I’m going to let my tears soak deep into the fibers as my prayers fill them with faith. It’s going to be a tangible reminder to hold on to hope for the desire that has been planted in that soft, fertile soil of my heart. A desire that I know isn’t impossible for my heavenly Father to fulfill.
I won’t worry if it fades, becomes stained, or ragged because this really isn’t for them; this is for me. Because there is something about stepping out in faith that ignites a spark of hope and anticipation within my dry and weary soul. I know it sounds crazy, and I know there will be days when I will feel foolish that I purchased it, nights when my heart will ache while holding it, and moments when I will want to throw it in a drawer or toss it in the trashcan. But I won’t. I will keep holding it. My hope is that by next Christmas, or even five Christmass’ from now, my precious miracle will be clothed in my tear-soaked, prayer-bathed, hope-filled “Baby’s First Christmas” outfit.
February 19th, 2016: Stop being selfish and just adopt!
I am FUMING right now!
Today, I was called “selfish” and then asked, “Do you know how many children need to be adopted?” Ummm…yes, because as a foster parent, I do know. And while I love my foster princess fiercely, it doesn’t take away my desire to carry my own child. Is it really wrong of me to want to be pregnant and to know what it feels like to have life growing inside of me? A life that has my eyes and my husband’s smile? I don’t think so! Adoption is beautiful, and it is a great option for those who are unable to conceive. But I believe God has to give that desire to couples, and right now, besides hopefully adopting our current foster princess, that is not my desire. And I will not be made to feel guilty for it. Besides, I don’t see them filling out the paperwork and writing a hefty 20,000+ check to an adoption agency…
April 9, 2016: I Feel Broken, Ashamed, and a Leper.
Lately, when I walk into a room full of pregnant women or women who are already mothers, shame immediately washes over me like a tidal wave because why can’t my body do what hers can do? I try not to feel the shame or the brokenness or like a leper, an outcast, but how can you not when every conversation is centered around being a mom and all that it entails? I know my worth doesn’t rest in my ability to conceive or the number of children I have, but it’s still hard not to feel as though I am not “enough” or made “whole.”
May 14th, 2016: A Miscarriage and Shaken Faith
Five years ago, on this very day, I saw my first two pink lines after our first round of IVF. Those two pink lines came after years of negatives and months of other failed treatment cycles using various medications and methods. Months of painful tests. Bed rest from severe Ovarian Hyperstimulation. Canceled cycles. Thousands of dollars. But it was all worth it. All of the money and the pain. Because the second I saw those precious lines, I fell in love. I had a million dreams. A million plans. A million ideas of how my life would be from that point on. But all of those dreams…those plans…those hopes…those ideas came crashing down in a matter of seconds when one day, the nurse told me that my pregnancy wasn’t progressing and I would most likely miscarry.
That’s a day I will also never forget. Because it’s the kind of news that sends you to your knees…and not in prayer…but in anger and sorrow. It’s the kind of news that keeps you in bed, unable to eat or take a shower. It’s the kind of news that makes you have to tell your parents you are pregnant but will miscarry all in the same sentence because you were still in the process of planning the perfect announcement reveal. And it’s the kind of news that rocks your faith to the core as it makes you question God. Question His plans. Question His love. It makes tears stream down your face when you stand in church, and you can’t sing the lyrics to the song “Good Good Father” because you just aren’t sure anymore.
August 5th, 2016: Did I Marry the Wrong One?
It’s crazy how much infertility makes you question everything from your self-wroth to your faith to even your marriage. Sometimes, despite the deep and intense love I have for my husband, I often wonder if he is “the one” God intended for me. I know it sounds crazy, but maybe that is the reason why we are struggling with infertility. Perhaps we are not meant to be together and, therefore, also not meant to have children together. I am ashamed of this thought because it is silly and irrational, but as silly and irrational as it is, it doesn’t stop the thought from creeping into my heart and mind.
October 12th, 2016: My Life Hasn’t Gone According to Plan
Lately, I have found myself on the floor in a puddle of tears, feeling numb and almost in disbelief that the life I am living is mine. It’s as though I am a character in a play called Life, and I am reading the wrong script. I keep looking back to when I was in high school, sitting in my senior English class and drafting my ten-year plan. I was certain at the time that I was going to graduate from college (which I did), marry shortly after (also accomplished), spend a year just being a newlywed (loved our first year as just the two of us), and then have three children by the age of 30. But here I am, 31, living with the devastating effects of an invisible illness known as Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and struggling to even have one. And to be honest, sometimes (okay, most of the time), it wears on me. Especially when I look around at others whose plans have worked out perfectly while mine were seemingly wadded up and thrown in the trash. Who wouldn’t feel overlooked, forgotten, and abandoned? But I know that I need to accept my life for what it is and have faith in what it will be. I need to somehow learn to embrace what is happening because God does have a plan for my life that is full of hope and future. And He has an amazing purpose for my pain. And a good reason for the delay. I just need to let go of the picture in my head of what I thought my life was supposed to be…but it’s hard to do. Because I really liked that picture…
November 8th, 2016: I Can’t Keep Going
I feel as though living daily with infertility is like running a race in slow motion. I am so exhausted, and everyone seems to fare far better than me at completing the race by having not just one…but two…and three. It’s hard for me to watch sometimes. There are days that all I want to do is stop running, sit down, quit, and cry— I need strength to keep going.
You probably didn’t expect this post to end so abruptly. Or at least without a nice and neat little bow at the end to tie it all together. But sometimes, that is also how infertility looks. Sometimes, it ends abruptly without the desired outcome. Sometimes, treatments come to a screeching halt without the paid-for miracle. Or the pain becomes so great that you can’t continue. But know that there are many options available to build your family. Options such as surrogacy, embryo adoption, sperm/egg donor, foster care, adoption, or simply loving on children within your neighborhood, church, or family circle. Infertility is tough, really tough, and if you are struggling, please know that you are not alone in your pain, your heartache, or your feelings of despair. There are millions of others just like you who know this path and can help you walk through it. If you need prayer or someone to vent to, don’t hesitate to email me at waitingforbabybird@gmail.com
For more peeks into my diary, check out the links below:
An Open Letter to My Fertile Family
Am I Not Good Enough for a Baby, God?
From an Infertile Mama’s Heart: A Letter to My Future Baby Bird
I Am (not) a Face of Infertility
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