Infertility is defined as the diminished ability or the inability to conceive and have offspring, but for me and thousands of other women it is so much more. My five year journey towards motherhood has been an emotional, physical and psychological ebb and flow. I have always considered myself a strong woman. Like so many other women, I juggle multiple aspects of family and work while trying to maintain a sense of self. These days, however, I’m not feeling so strong. After two rounds of fertility clinic visits, fertility drug injections, and insemination with no success, feelings of defeat are beginning to surface.
At first, talking about the process with family, friends and my dear husband helped ease the frustration of not having my own little person to love, nurture and guide. Now, every time I walk by the infant section at Target, or see a dad holding his little baby in a BabyBjorn, or see a pregnant woman in passing, I experience momentary feelings of disappointment and disillusionment. I can’t help but think, ‘Why me?’ or ‘Why did I postpone having a baby to get married, get an education, or a career?’ When I write those questions down, it sounds silly. I have no regrets about wanting to have a husband before a child, and I certainly don’t regret having an education or a career. Somehow, all of those things seem less significant in my life at this point because this missing piece to my life’s puzzle.
So, as I enter my third cycle of treatment, I’m donning my rose-colored glasses. God is on my favorites list, I’m trying new ways to relieve my stress – yoga, meditation, and I continually remind myself that things will fall into place perfectly… in due time.
