There is little I can compare the pain of infertility to. It is a deep, GUT wrenching pain that is far beyond anything that I have ever experienced. The cries I cry are the ugly cries. The kind that leave your ribs sore the next day and leave you thirsty.
It is not that I am not happy for those that have children, I am. Its that this loss is like no other. It is the loss of what you were designed to do. Our bodies and our chemistry are geared to reproduction. Its how we are wired, mostly. And most of us want to have a family. Its an expected life. Its promised to you as a child and promised to you by society. You expect to have kids. You don’t expect that you would be infertile, and your spouse would be infertile, and that your insurance wont cover “fixing the issue” (because women don’t count is what they are saying) or that adoption would be so expensive. You don’t think about that when you are falling in love with your soulmate and you are sitting in a car, in the cold, talking (because you aren’t allowed in the house) on the third date and you are talking baby names. You don’t expect infertility to completely change your soul, to push your faith way beyond the breaking point, or to make you question the goodness of God.
You don’t expect any of this.
You toddle along and trudge along and skip along and then BAM! You run face first into the wall with no doors and no windows and you can not possibly climb without help. And no one offers. They just say “tsk tsk, its too bad”.
The pain is debilitating and exhausting. The pain is the difference between color and black and white. It envelopes you into its world and you can not escape. No medicine, no therapy, nothing can possibly “fix” this. You just have to ride it out until the grief lets you go and what remains of your soul can continue its unimportant existence.
I lost my expected life. I lost my anticipated reality. I lost my dream. I lost my identity and my purpose.
I am lost.
My quest now is to heal. To find hope again, to find joy and to discover a purpose that I didn’t know I had. I promise if I ever hit the lottery to start a foundation to help women like me make a baby.