This is a journey I never signed up for as a woman, a journey I would never in a million years of seen coming. You talk about your life as though you can plan it, you say things such as “yeah when I’m in my late 20’s or early 30’s I will have babies right after we’ve married and bought our own house” Little do you know that these are all things that aren’t promised, no matter how hard you try to work for them.
It’s been years of hurting at this point and I wish I could say it’s gotten easier but it hasn’t; it’s gotten worse.
I have only just become almost numb to people’s pregnancy announcements, when a baby coos at me in public and when I see the beautiful glow of a pregnant woman caressing her bump.
I have decided to take a step back a little from talking about my situation that I probably won’t be able to concieve as I had gotten to the point where I became fixated and obsessed. I was loosing sight of life’s lessons and what life is trying to teach me through this journey.
Today it still hurts just as it did years ago when I was told the news I most likely will never concieve a child. I hate the pain, the heartache, the emptiness feeling inside, but I also love the process of detaching joy from the things that aren’t promised to us and attaching it to the only fufilling source, my husband.
I hate that every month I am reminded of the truth, and every month that passes I feel my hope diminish just that little bit more.
I know life has it’s plan already mapped out for me and this is the way it’s meant to be, I can’t control it and most days I accept that. But just one day a month I allow myself to fall apart, ache, mourn for my child that may never be, and to hurt. Today is that day.