Thursday, November 8, 2012

A Letter to Infertility

Pin It


Dear Infertility,

It has been eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fourty-seven minutes and fourty-eight seconds since I've been trying to get pregnant (give or take depending on how long it took room service to bring food to the hotel room on our wedding night.)

That's enough time to equal eleven pregnancies (back to back give or take a week or two depending on leap year). I've gone through almost nine calendars. I've tracked my temperature, sex, cycles and other words I never thought I'd even say out loud. I've purchased more than one hundred pregnancy tests, and only a few of them were from the dollar store.

I've seen more than eight doctors and had five different diagnoses.

In eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fourty-seven minutes and fourty-eight seconds I've seen twenty-three pregnancy announcements in my family alone. Sixty-five pregnancy announcements if you include friends. There have been fifty-nine newborn baby pictures posted all over Facebook by those close to me. The missing six babies never made it here.

In eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fourty-seven minutes and fourty-eight seconds I've attended twenty-four baby showers, and one birth.

In eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fourty-seven minutes and fourty-eight seconds there have been fifty-nine first birthdays, first words, first steps.

In eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fourty-seven minutes and fourty-eight seconds there have been nine Mother's Days and Christmas Mornings that I spent childless and my heart has broken more times than I care to remember.

In eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fourty-seven minutes and fourty-eight seconds I've answered, "Not yet," to hundreds of people asking  "Do you have children?" I've shed tears and overcome my own sadness when I've said, "I'm so happy for you," to twenty-seven new mothers - and I meant it.

I've shouted triumphant joy for five new mothers who previously suffered from infertility as well. And I cry with the many friends I have left who suffer along side me.

I've prayed a million prayers.

I've cried a million tears.

But time still moves on.

Eight years, eight months, ten days, four hours, fifty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds later . . . I'm still waiting.


---


No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
 
Design by Creative Girl Media