What If

What if…

I can never be happy again?

Before the days of infertility, there were great days, excitement, opportunity, blue skies, and hope.

Today I am mired in a web of not-so-great days, anger, hopelessness, and jealousy.

It has been 6 months since I ended infertility treatment for good. That sounds a little freeing saying that. Because until recently, I didn’t know if I was REALLY done, or just standing at the crossroads biding my time. But I AM… it seems.

I am done.

Five years later, five miscarriages later, I wake up in the morning with the same thought, each and every day… just around the time I am staring into a mirror and putting on my makeup…

“Is this sadness ever going to leave me?”

I stare at the circles under my eyes that I never had before. I make peace with the fact that my face has aged ten years in five. I put down my mascara and walk into the third bedroom upstairs with an empty crib. The crib now better served as a storage space for junk. Just like my body.

Junk.

I navigate though the work day as my island of peace. A  place where I can work, and work, and work and completely avoid personal conversations. It’s all business. I can put on a good face almost as if I did not have a care in the world. That, is, until a pregnancy announcement from a co-worker sets me over the edge…

I attend school functions with my only son. My “only”. I listen to the Moms with half an ear because I am not interested in the conversations of fitting in manicures between carpooling their multitudes of children.  I don’t want to see the look of pity on their faces when I answer “that” question…  “do you have any more children?”

My son asks why he doesn’t have a brother or sister. On a regular basis. I try very hard to explain the truth that an (almost) seven year old would understand.

It kills me a little more each time I say it.

I wonder if I can ever get back to that place before I became one of the millions of women affected by infertility.

I wonder if any of us will truly recover from the disappointment that plagues us. Even the lucky few that conquer the beast are never really the same.

Never the same.

I WANT to be happy again. I want to lie down at the end of a great day with that fuzzy feeling that all is right with the world.  I still can build my family in other ways.  Or, I can choose not to.  The reality is infertility cannot be the sum and total of me, or my decisions.  It cannot define any of us.

I can choose how to move on from this.

I want to enjoy life. I want to use what I learned through my experience to help others.

The aftermath cannot dictate that the journey was pointless.
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Understand infertility: Visit Resolve.

National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) is April 24th through May 1st: Take Charge.

Want to read about others “What if’s?”:  Connect @ Project IF.

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National Infertility Awareness Week


So how is it that I almost missed National Infertility Awareness week?

Oh yeah, they moved it. Now I can forgive myself.

I’ve had a lot to say over the years each time this week rolls around. Hell, pretty much any week of the year.

Instead of writing a long post to summarize why this week is so important to so many of us, I encourage you to read my friend Cecily’s post about it.

She sums up every reason why it sucks to be infertile. And how each of us will always carry it with us, no matter when or how our journeys end.