Dear Infertility Warrior, I Understand You

Dear Infertility Warrior,

I understand you. Honestly, I understand you a lot more than I would like to.

I understand that you have the room in your house that is designated to be the baby’s room. I understand that sometimes when you are home on a rainy Saturday, you imagine what it would be like to walk into that room to find a sleeping baby in their crib or quite the opposite, you imagine how incredible it would be to even hear a baby cry because that meant that you had your baby.

I understand that you bought that SUV two years ago because you had plans to put a car seat in the back, a car seat that would keep your child safe. Years later and your car is gaining miles but still no baby. I understand the pain that it causes the two of you to drive somewhere together all while looking behind you, imagining what it would be like to see your baby smile back at you.

I understand what it’s like to walk by the baby isle of a store and blink for twice as long, just so you don’t have to see the baby items that remind you that you have no baby. It seems like at the beginning of this journey, you would go on these isles for fun but now, it’s torture.

I understand that there is a shift in your conversation. Instead of talking about “when we have kids” it’s since changed to “if we have kids” and saying that out loud is hard. It’s admitting your struggle to conceive and acknowledging the lack of success when it comes to making a baby.

I understand what it’s like to pick out your children’s names and write them in a notebook next to yours. Like they were meant to exist with you.

I understand that you’ve missed out on concerts, birthday trips, weekend getaways all because you “could have been pregnant” and instead of having a nice weekend away, you are sitting at home wondering if the cramp you felt was implantation happening in your uterus.

I understand that every time you take a pregnancy test you shine light after light on the test just to make sure you aren’t missing a faint line. That when you take a photo of the pregnancy test, you put every filter imaginable just trying to find a sign of life.

I understand what it’s like to cry in the bathroom at work because you saw yet another pregnancy announcement on social media.

I understand what it’s like to fake a smile while a co-worker shows you photos of their daughter’s newborn. The newborn that she conceived the first month of marriage. You’ve now seen photos of this daughter’s wedding, pregnancy and newborn all in the time you’ve been trying.

Warriors, I understand you a lot more than I would like to because I am you.