A Roller Coaster

Thank you- To the friends and family who stuck around, the ones who met you where you were at, and didn’t prod. The ones who offered love and not advice. It takes a special kind of human to continue to show up for someone on a fertility journey. Most of the time, I didn’t know what I needed or wanted from anyone. Sometimes it was space, sometimes it was a shoulder to cry on. It’s not to say that nothing was good enough - but more to say that nothing could change it or make it better. Most of the time I felt lost. I still do. A roller coaster.

I often explain to people that the biggest loss I have felt in this journey (aside from the obvious) is missing out on other people's happy news. I rarely get to be the friend who gets the surprise phone call - “guess what?!?” - with a pregnancy test or ultrasound picture in hand. But truthfully, for many years that would have absolutely killed me. Instead, I often get the polite “just a heads up” text. Which is so so mindful. But - I want to be that person. I wish so badly to be that person. Infertility robs you of so much. So many moments that I never got to share with my closest friends. So many moments that I missed. So many that I can never get back.

For the first time in 5 years, I received pregnancy news that didn’t cripple me. I actually went home and told my husband how incredibly monumental it felt. To receive someone else’s happy news and feel totally at peace with our life. There will always be a part of my heart that feels jealousy. I think that’s part of being human.

The thing about infertility and loss journeys is that they are not linear. Very much like a roller coaster, they can start up and then come to an abrupt stop. They can go up and down. Steep hills to climb and also soar down. Sometimes fast and sometimes snail slow. You’re allowed to get off and hop back on though, and I think breaks from the experience are essential. It’s very hard to know if you’re done. Decisions to stop and start back up again are constantly changing. I don’t know if our journey will ever end the way we hoped it would when we began. But for now, I hope to enjoy life just us two.

A heartfelt thank you, to my mom friends.

For understanding why I couldn’t be there, but inviting me anyway. Thank you for telling me I was always welcome, that I would always fit in. Thank you for giving me space when I needed it, and not making me feel guilty when I couldn't show up for you. Thank you for letting me skip seasons. Thank you for showing up for my darkest ones. Thank you for knowing my heart well enough to give it a free pass. Thank you for your patience. For your unconditional love.

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As Infertility Awareness Week comes to a close, I thank you (yes, you. whoever you are!) for giving me any of your time. For reading my unfiltered thoughts with an open mind and heart, for taking the time to chat with me, to chat with a friend, to share with me, or to share with someone who’d benefit.

On the internet, Infertility Awareness Week is just that. A week. For those of us struggling with infertility and loss- it consumes every week. It transcends through holidays, seasons and years.

Infertility Deserves More.

More awareness, more grace, more research, more support.

Thank you for helping me raise awareness. Thank you for making me feel less alone.

<3