But being a mom now doesn’t change the fact that I still am, and forever will be infertile, and the pain of that truth will never go away. I used to think that infertility was like having a deadly illness — it’s scary and you might not make it through to the other side, but if you do, you can put what happened behind you. The truth is that infertility is more like your shadow. You can forget about it for a while, but it’s always there, and sometimes it startles you when you’re not expecting it.
Seeing my so many women struggle with infertility and hearing there stories brings a rawness to it every time. I get super upset knowing their pain. Every story is different but the pain is still real and there.
When a well meaning stranger asks when I’m going to “try for a girl” and I smile and say something polite while knowing that trying for another baby would take thousands of dollars I don’t have. When a friend tells me how she’s planning the dates when she has sex so she can avoid having a baby around any major holidays, and I remember wanting a baby so badly that it wouldn’t matter what day it was born on, as long as it was born. Or when I hear about a baby being abused or mistreated and I want to smash things because I know there are so many couples who want to get pregnant but can’t that would never treat their own child like that.
I’ll always be grateful for my Eli, for being one of the lucky women who was able to overcome her infertility temporarily and experience pregnancy. But a part of me will always wonder what it must be like to simply have sex and get pregnant. Will I ever get to have baby #2?
RESOLVE, the non-profit National Infertility Association behind this movement is challenging people talk to their health care providers about fertility options, to speak to employers about medical coverage for infertility medications and services and for those who have gone through or are dealing with infertility to share their stories.