Image Source: Thinkstock
IMAGE SOURCE: THINKSTOCK
Seven years ago, the word “infertile” was used to describe me for the very first time. I was only 26 years old, still single, and still living under the delusion that I had all the time in the world to figure my future out.
Until the day I was told my fertility had become a now or never proposition.
In the year that followed, I pursued two rounds of IVF, banking on the hope offered to me by doctors and the sperm donor I had chosen with care. Both rounds failed, and by 27, I was broke, heartsick, and facing the painful reality that I had very few options left.
It was the most devastating time of my life. All I had ever wanted was to be a mother, and now, I wasn’t sure that dream would ever come to fruition. I felt lost and alone, convinced that I now had nothing to offer a future partner. There were times when I felt so destroyed by infertility, I honestly wasn’t sure I wanted to wake up another day.
But if I could reach across time, this is what I wish I could say to that girl today …
Dear Infertile Me,
I thought about you this morning, as my little girl leapt into my arms at daycare pickup and shouted, “You missed me!” It’s her standard greeting these days, a smile spread from cheek to cheek as she beats me to the punch.
“You missed me,” she repeats. And I can’t help but think, she has no idea how much.
You’re often on my mind during these moments of motherhood — the ones I know you once feared you’d never have. My heart breaks when I think of you, huddled in a corner of your closet, crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Sobbing alone, with no one in arms reach to comfort you. Living a life where it seemed as though everyone around you was getting the very thing you wanted so desperately.