Infertility. The best way to describe it, is sadness.
There’s a sadness in planning for something your whole life, but never knowing if you’ll ever get it. There’s a sadness in knowing that this is what I am supposed to do, for me and my family, and a sadness in knowing my body is not able to do it’s basic functions.
There’s s sadness in knowing that the world around you will continue on, having families, celebrating life, and your mind is stuck in limbo dwelling on what could have been.
There’s a sadness in wanting something so much, getting ideas and hopes into your head and heart, and being told No. There’s a sadness in knowing we may never experience pregnancy, childbirth, or children, but we’d be so good at it.
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There’s a sadness in knowing that I think about kids every single day, and I have to break my habit of ‘what-ifs?’. There’s a sadness in knowing that I have a box of baby stuff, stuff that I have saved over the years, items that will never be used. There’s a sadness in knowing I’ll never pass down my family traditions, like good night sugars and inside jokes, that my memories will die with me.
There’s a sadness in knowing that we will just be ‘Aunt Mary & Uncle Phil’, for all of our friends and family members with children, never grandparents or great grandparents, no additions to our family tree. There’s a sadness in knowing that I will inevitably receive future baby shower invites, but never send my own or experience those moments. There’s a sadness in knowing I will forever celebrate my fur babies birthday’s, but we will never celebrate ‘our’ childrens.
There’s a sadness in knowing that every month I’ll be visited by Moon Sickness, a heartbreaking reminder of our issues, and what will not happen for us. There’s a sadness in knowing I get to look forward to the Moon Sickness for the next 25 years, never suffering from a pregnancy scare. There’s a sadness in knowing that I shouldn’t expect a miracle, knowing I can never look forward to 2 pink lines, but also knowing I’ll still find that hope, only to be let down.
There’s a sadness in knowing I’ll be asked in the future ‘did you guys ever want kids?’, and I’ll have to say yes, reminding me of all the years I had hoped, and the reality that we couldn’t.
Infertility is a sadness. Infertility is a painful, cruel, and exhausting disease of the heart, mind and soul. Infertility is a thief, stealing all your hopes and dreams. And now infertility is a my part of life, but it could be worse.