Sometimes I still cry and cry and cry. I’m on meds for that. I’m having to take medicines to ensure that I don’t lose my mind and yet I still find times when this journey is so overwhelming that I can not function. It is then that I cry.
I cry because I got my period again, and that means no “happy accident”.
I cry because I think about what a kid of ours might have looked like or acted like or even smelled like.
I cry because my family tree ends with me.
I cry because all of the stories, all of the fun all of everything that is me ends with me. There is no legacy.
I cry because I want to hold a beautiful baby, one that I held in my womb for 9 months, one that is part me and part him and all kinds of wonderful.
I cry because people don’t understand, and family can be so difficult in this time.
I cry because when you are infertile and don’t have a lot of money, there is nothing else that can be done. You are too poor to have medical help, yet make enough to raise a child. And we are too poor to adopt. Fantastic. 😦
I cry because it just isn’t fair. It isn’t.
I cry because unworthy people, those that abuse and neglect, get to have kids and I don’t.
I cry, because this is the greatest disappointment in my life and in the life of my husband. It is enough to bury me in grief. I’ll never be the same woman again. Ever.