I'm at a loss of a way to put into words what infertility does, not just to the person suffering from it, but to the couple, to the family, to all those who are close friends/family with the one suffering from infertility. How do you explain something so personal, something so close to my heart, something, that even 40 years down the road, when I'm done having children, will still have left my heart a little broken?
But really, I'm lucky. I've been able to get pregnant fairly quickly after fertility treatments and have had two, almost three wonderful spirits come into my life. When I hear of someone suffering from infertility my heart breaks for them, I want to give them a hug and tell them I love them. This is a disease I would never wish on my worst enemy. Some days I hate the fact that I'm one of the 1 in 8 that suffers from some form of infertility, but in all actuality I'm glad it's me and not someone else, I'm thankful that I was able to take the pain and heart-ache away from someone so they don't have to suffer and go through what so many of us have to go through.
I want to say that after trying for a year and finally getting an answer to why Neil and I couldn't conceive on our own that we felt at peace and like all of our questions were answered...but I can't say that. Were we relieved? You better believe it, but we were also left with more questions than we came with. Now, instead of "Why can't we get pregnant", we were left with questions swirling around in our head such as, "What now? What are we supposed to do? What if this doesn't work?" etc.
Infertility is like a maze, you can't see what's in front of you, but maybe if you turn this way instead of that you will find the finish line. If that doesn't work then backtrack and try the other route, and if that doesn't work? Back to the beginning you go to start all over to see where changes can be made. You're continually looking for the ladder that will let you see the layout of your maze journey, but the truth is, there isn't one, instead of trying to climb higher to see you finally realize that you must do the exact opposite and fall to your knees, close your eyes and pray. Pray for guidance, for patience, for knowledge, for faith, for comfort. Because that's how you're finally going to find the finish line, it may not be the finish line you had in mind, but when you finally arrive there you know it's what was planned long ago for you.
Like I said, infertility has permanently screwed me up. Even though I'm a mom to almost three, whenever I hear of someone that is pregnant I get a stab of jealousy. Why do I do this? I have no idea and I feel so childish when it happens. I don't know their story, maybe they had gone through more than me to be blessed with their sweet baby...but it hurts all the same. Don't get me wrong, I am still happy for them and want to celebrate in their joy, but sometimes I wish that were me.
So what do I ask during NIAW? I ask that we all have more understanding, more love, and more knowledge of infertility. I ask that we not be so judgmental towards those women who cry instead of cheer for joy when one of their friends announces their pregnancy, that we understand why your best friend didn't show up to your baby shower. I promise it's not because she didn't want to, or that she isn't excited for you, or that she doesn't love you...it's simply because she can't face a crowd of women again with empty arms while they all hold their precious babies in theirs. It's because she can't answer another, "When are you going to have a baby?" I ask that we love all those that suffer from infertility, because honestly, that's what we need the most.
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