It’s National Infertility Awareness Week. I just gave myself an injection but still have to keep quiet. I can’t share my story out loud as I wish, so this will do for now.
The first time I went to the doctors office I thought there was something wrong with only me but as I looked around there were many other women there. Many women praying and hoping for their miracles. Everyone has a story to tell behind their mask. And I feel almost guilty for sitting there because I’m so much younger and time is on my side. Thank God for that.
The doctor is optimistic and hopeful that this treatment will work but I am ready to move forward to the next treatment in hopes that that will relieve some stress and pressure. In hopes that we are one step closer to our miracle.
I am grateful for this community filled with sensitive and loving women who have given me the space to express myself and cry. My hope is that we raise awareness the best way possible and allow our voices to be heard.
For those who are not part of this group of warriors, this is what infertility looks like:
Infertility looks like waking up at the crack of dawn to make it in time to monitoring before work
Infertility looks like many bills to be paid
Infertility looks like running to appointments and dealing with insurance companies
Infertility looks like mood swings and bloating
Infertility looks like anxiety sitting next to my phone waiting for the nurse to call
Infertility looks like spending amazing quality time with my husband and growing our relationship despite what we are lacking
Infertility looks like going to shul (synagogue) with a fake smile on my face as I see all the pregnant women and strollers
Infertility looks like another bump in the road
Infertility looks like the tears that I shed at another failed cycle and the loss of hope
Infertility looks like a new cycle and a new opportunity for optimism and hope
Infertility looks like reaching out for support in your darkest moments
Infertility looks like an amazing club you never wanted to join
