Infertility

A few nights ago, I wrote the following entry into my journal. I’ve had a gnawing feeling ever since I wrote it that I needed to share my feelings on our blog. Disclaimer: these are my real, raw emotions and it’s hard for me to share them, but I feel like I need to do this. I think that the statistic is something like 1 out of every 8 couples is affected by infertility. What if sharing my feelings can help just one person to understand that the pain they are feeling is justified and that there is a light at the end of the tunnel?

I have felt the need for awhile now to write down my feelings about the things that James and I have been going through. I’m going to be completely honest with my thoughts as I write this so please don’t judge me for my moments of weakness that are sure to come in this entry. I remember the day that we received the phone call from the fertility doctor, explaining that we would never be able to get pregnant naturally. James was at work when he received this phone call and he called me immediately to explain all of the test results and what the doctor had told him. I was driving at the time and I remember that I had to pull the car over to the side of the road because I couldn’t see through the tears that poured from my eyes. When our phone call was over, I sat in my car for awhile… thinking, crying, and asking Heavenly Father, WHY? After depression swallowed me whole in that tiny car, I called my parents and asked them to both get on the receiver because I NEEDED them both. I remember telling them that James and I wouldn’t ever be able to be parents and then I proceeded to sob to them on the phone and then begged them to not tell James how upset I was. I needed to be strong for him, but on the inside I was in total despair. As long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a mother. I’ve made plans for places I want my kids to see, things that I want to teach them, and hobbies that I want to share with them. That day, sitting in my little black car, I felt defeated. Alone. Angry.

Infertility is a word that you hear often, but nobody can truly understand what it means unless they experience it. It means having to put on a happy face when you hear about a friends pregnancy. It means sobbing uncontrollably when I watched my nephew being born - knowing that I would never have that experience for myself. Infertility means feeling worthless and inadequate and undeserving of love. It means questioning my faith, doubting God, and blaming myself for the things out of my control. It means nights spent sitting on the floor next to our bed crying, hoping that I wouldn’t wake James. It means buying pregnancy tests every single month for 5 years and crossing our fingers that THIS is the month. It means creating a fake smile every time somebody says “As soon as you stop trying, it’ll just happen!” Infertility is DEVASTATING!

In a way, infertility is like death. All of the stages of grief are present. Shock & denial? Check! Pain & guilt? Check! Anger & bargaining? Check! Depression, reflection, & loneliness? Check! There is a grieving process that comes with infertility. The final step is acceptance and I feel this is where I am today. It’s been a long and bumpy road getting here, but I feel more HOPE than ever before. Why? What has changed? In a word… adoption! Once I truly grieved for our infertility, my eyes and my heart were opened to the miracle of adoption. My heart is literally filled every time I hear a birth mother share her experience with placing her child for adoption. I feel the spirit so strongly each time an adoptive couple is blessed with the gift of a baby. Every time I start talking about the blessings of adoption, I always choke up and my heart swells. I know, without any doubt, that it is Heavenly Father’s plan for me to adopt. I’ve been losing sleep lately wondering what it’s going to be like to finally meet the birth mom that chooses to place her baby with us. I tear up a little just thinking about that meeting and how I can’t wait to wrap my arms around her and say “Thank-you!” I can’t think of a way that I can ever repay such a selfless gift, except to LOVE both her and her child unconditionally.

Are we still infertile? Yes. Will I have a baby someday? Yes. It may not be the conventional way, but I KNOW I am meant to be a mother. I now know that I can turn to Heavenly Father and that he will fill me with peace and help me to understand the virtue of patience. I know that my day will come. I WILL be a mommy someday!