I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love waking up in the morning, opening up Facebook and scrolling through the memories of years past. It’s a fun way of reminiscing about the good old days but lately it has been different. I dread opening it up, I know I should just stop opening it, it’s a simple fix but I can’t. As much as I don’t want to remember, I always will. This week, last year was the best week of our lives. I remember it like it was yesterday. After a late period, I decided to take a pregnancy test with the full expectation that it would be negative like every other one I had taken over the past ten plus years, but this one was different. It was positive, I, we couldn’t believe our eyes. We took several more over the next couple of days, all confirming that it was true, we finally would have everything we wanted, a baby, a miracle, our family.
The next several weeks were filled with excitement, joy, prayers, crushing moments, and so much sorrow. At ten weeks, I miscarried.
This time every year will be a reminder of what we had, and what we lost. A reminder of the baby that could have been, but never had the chance to be. It’s hard. It’s even harder that it falls around the time of Mother’s Day. Oh, and this year, during a global pandemic.
I want nothing more than to run away, go somewhere, take my mind off of things but instead, I am stuck inside this huge gorgeous house with nothing more to do than to sit and think about all of the things I am trying to forget. Walking past what would be our baby’s room, thinking about how much I wish I could jump back into infertility treatments, but I can’t because it’s not safe to go out. Time is passing me by, I am turning thirty-three this year, I feel like my time is running out. Things could be worse, I know, I am so blessed.
Check in on your infertile friends, chances are they aren’t okay. It’s a hard time. With infertility procedures cancelled or on hold, empty houses, social media posts riddled with complaints of being home with the kids, when all you wish is that you had the kids to complain about, all those things.. it’s not easy. Being infertile is not easy.