No More Tears

Infertility was like a slap in my face. A harsh reality check that I never saw coming. Three years later the sting and shock are gone and happiness has filtered back into my life.

I hate the analogy of comparing my miscarriages to a bad break-up, but it really fits when it comes to me and secondary infertility. During the years of struggle, planned sex, hormones, dip sticks, pregnancy tests and long two-week waits I felt like the baby I loved didn’t love me back. I tried everything I could to make a baby want me too.

When the reality that I suffered from secondary infertility settled into my brain it broke my heart. I was powerless. I had no control over my body. I couldn’t keep a pregnancy and then for 2 years I couldn’t get pregnant. My dream of being a family of four were erased and no matter how I willed it to be different I couldn’t change it.

I imagined being struck could not be more painful than my ache. My heart was crushed.  My soul stung from rejection and it took me a long time to get over it. I still pictured myself pregnant. I imagined us with a baby in our midst. I worried how my daughter would adjust to another person in the family. I wondered what it would be like being pregnant with an active 3-year-old. I wondered what the baby’s personality would be like? How quickly he or she would crawl. What his or her voice would sound like. I imagined a lifetime. I couldn’t eradicate the dream. I couldn’t erase the memory. I couldn’t imagine all those psychics who told me I’d have two children were wrong. I felt broken.

But life kept moving ahead without the baby #2 dream becoming a reality. I tried everything I could but it didn’t matter. It is just one of those things. And it pissed me off. How could a soul reject me? How could they show up and leave without letting me love them and drive them crazy like only a mother could?

Then I started sifting through our daughter’s baby items. Letting items go that we could do without, that weren’t necessary if we had another. I purged clothes and toys. What’s left is neatly stacked in the attic.

During a rare quiet moment I noticed the physical ache was gone. That the need to control my situation faded with summer. I began loving my family better. I appreciated them more. Even got a wee bit more patient (some times). I let the love I have for my family fill me up and I realized that I lack nothing. And the old heartache may have left a scar but a cool one, the kind I dig.

The sensation of being slapped and rejected is gone. I am thankful it is. I am glad to be free of the obsession. I hope any of you who are still in the fight for fertility stay strong and those of you who are like me and have come to terms with it can enjoy what you’ve got. Big hugs! Holly