Infertility is hard.
Infertility is time consuming.
Infertility is living and breathing by the 28-day cycle, waiting for the next window, the next chance at creating new life, only to have to wait again.
Infertility is scheduling sex every other day between days 10 and 20, so that it feels more of a chore than a delight.
Infertility is weekly doctor’s appointments, and needles, and probes, and scopes, and samples.
Infertility is peeing on a billion sticks, and knowing what answer you’re going to get, but doing it anyways.
Infertility is feeling like there’s something wrong with your body, and everyone knows it.
Infertility is shame.
Infertility is beating yourself up for the choices you’ve made in the past and wondering if it’s all your fault, if you’re being punished somehow.
Infertility is feeling like you’re disappointing all the people who’ve prayed with you for a child, in letting them know their prayers weren’t answered. Not yet, anyway.
Infertility is avoiding all social media on April Fool’s Day, when couples pretend they’re pregnant but aren’t really, and probably won’t ever be the couples to have to struggle with infertility.
Infertility is dreading Mother’s Day.
Infertility is feeling frustrated that your options for having a baby are limited by how much money you make.
Infertility is watching your biological clock count down as each month passes, and being painfully aware of how much closer you are to the end of your fertile years.
Infertility is the excitement of getting your first and only ever positive pregnancy test, and then the sinking feeling as the line slowly disappears as the days pass.
Infertility is being so ridiculously gosh darn happy when your friends are pregnant, but so ridiculously gosh darn sad that you’re not.
Infertility is feeling guilty when you’re jealous of what others have so easy.
Infertility is other people giving unsolicited advice about your lifestyle and timing and diet choices as the reasons why you’re not pregnant – as though it were your fault.
Infertility is loving your little family, being so grateful for the time and adventures with just the two of you (three, if you count Daisy), but feeling like something is still missing.
Infertility is loathing your body for being unable to do what it was supposed to be created to do.
Infertility is being in a cold, dark, sterile room with your legs in stirrups, and your husband holding your hand while the doctor inseminates you with a skinny turkey baster (super romantic).
Infertility is the pressure of knowing that you have just enough money for one more try.
Infertility is risking all your money just for a chance at new life, not even a guarantee.
Infertility is being angry that money is even a factor in wanting a baby, and for having insurance that doesn’t cover a cent.
Infertility is the pressure of knowing that you have just one more try before the odds are against you, one more try, and then what?
Infertility is being the oldest in your peer group as friends drop off and form their own young family peer groups.
Infertility is feeling left out of a club (motherhood) you want to be a part of, and being able to do nothing about it.
Infertility is lonely.
Infertility is wondering if there will ever be a little one who is the perfect combination of you and your beloved.
Infertility is wanting something so so bad, but no amount of money or gifts or talents or education or work experience or technological advances or anything can guarantee you’ll ever get it.
Infertility is feeling helpless.
Infertility is feeling powerless.
Infertility is being heartbroken, month after month.
Infertility is tiring. So tiring.
Infertility is wondering if God is actually mean, if He even cares for you at all.
Infertility is feeling like a chump for hoping, feeling stupid again for trying.
Infertility is hoping anyways, getting back up and trying again. And again. And again and again and again.
Infertility is resting in God’s presence, His goodness, His comfort, His love, because what else can you do?
Infertility is remaining in constant dependence on God, and drawing strength from the Creator of all life, the One who sees us to the deepest desires and longings of our hearts.
Infertility is remembering God’s faithfulness in the past, and recounting all the times that money was no issue to Him, and the odds were nothing against Him.
Infertility is watching the sunset, heartbroken in knowing not today, not this month, not this time around, yet hoping that hope is on the horizon and trusting that God is bigger than all that we can see.