Description of pain.

Devastated.
Crushed.
Broken.
Indifferent.
Speechless.
Forlorn.
Pathetic.
Guilty.
Jealous.
Restless.
Overwhelmed.
Annoyed.
Saddened.

Left Behind.

Hopeless.
Tearful.
Overlooked.
Anxious.
Let down.
Pained.
Selfish.
Worried.
Depressed.

I can't help but react this way.
I find out someone is pregnant.

- Heather

Epic Fail

Epic Fail.

Each Month; Epic Fail.

The torment this brings.

Every single month, for all these years; Epic Fail.

Some months start out hopeful. I feel as though 'yes, this will be the month'. I find myself hoping, dreaming, wishing, almost planning.

Epic Fail.

At times, it feels as though I'm mourning the loss the someone that has died...Every.....Single......Month.

Every. Single. Month.

It torments me. It consumes me. It completely takes over any sanity I thought I'd had.

Can you imagine mourning the loss of someone dying every month? Trying to go through the five stages of grief in a matter of days, or even hours?

Every Month, this is what it feels like to have infertility.

- Heather

Not UsefuL

Not Helpful.

I start to feel useless when people talk about being pregnant. I feel my shoulders shrug, my head lower, my eyes stare at nothing.

I don't feel needed.

While I love children more than anything, I feel completely incompetent around pregnant woman.  I long to understand. I like to give advice, encouragement, support. It's easier not to. I can't relate. I can imagine, but I cannot relate.

I lose confidence.

Pregnancy is something to be experienced.
Just as infertility is something to be tolerated.

Just as I struggle to hear advice from someone who has never gone through infertility, I feel useless to a good friend who is pregnant.

I don't understand.
Neither do they.

How are we to meet in the middle ?

- Heather

Not a mother.

Sometimes it stings.
Sometimes it nags.
Other times it lingers.
Mostly it remains.

I hold my head in my hands...waiting.

My heart is breaking slowly...constantly.

It seems like I am slipping......always.

My hope is apathetic....daily.

I imagined it differently. I imagined it to be easier. I imagined it to come naturally.
I didn't imagine this.

I wasn't prepared for this.

I feel selfish being sad. I'm not dying. I'm not physically ill. I'm not injured. I'm not starving. I find myself comparing my situation to the hardships of others, and it seems so minor and unimportant.

Unimportant. Misunderstood. Overlooked.


I'm not a million things, but I'm not a mother either.

- Heather

Years ago....

I'm struggling to depict what sort of emotion I'm feeling right now.

It's not hope, it's not despair, it's not avoidance, it just exists.

Infertility seems like that on most days.
Not hoping, not avoiding, not despairing, just the existence of your condition.

Some days I don't want to be uplifted. I don't want the advice, encouragement, and support friends and family can bring. I don't want to read uplifting quotes, read inspirational stories, hear about success rates, etc. 

Years ago, I heard all those stories, that support, that encouragement. Years ago.
Years ago, when I was able to take that support and encouragement and truly be inspired that some day, hopefully soon, I would be a mother.

Years ago.

Today, it seems repetitive, though I still long for comfort, advice, and encouragement from people, it impacts me less. I find myself often smiling and nodding, and responding with less emotion on the subject than I had in the past. 

I'm not trying to be brave.
I am not particularly optimistic.
I'm not filled with anger like I once was.

I. Just. Am.

-heather

Hopeful ?

It's hard to be hopeful.

I really really want to be hopeful. I want to be able to start imagining my life differently. I want to be able to start imagining myself as a mother.

It seems dangerous. If I hope, my dreams will unfortunately, undoubtedly, come crashing down. If I don't hope, I find myself sinking into a deep depression of reality and loss.

I'm struggling to decide what to feel. Is hope better than avoidance? Is hope better than a realistic approach?

I'm almost afraid to feel to happy. I don't know quite how to describe this, or why this happens, but I find myself holding back even though I intend not to.

I'm not purposefully trying to deprive myself of happiness.

I don't feel as though I'm trying to punish myself for not being a mother right now.

I'm cautious because I never know how long my hope will last. At times, I may feel hopeful for days, perhaps even weeks. Inevitably, this feeling passes as well.

I am consistently inconsistent.

-Heather.