An Anniversary of Sorts

Disclaimer: This post is long, not funny, and has no photos. And you may cry. You’ve been warned.


April 5th marks the 5th anniversary of the day that changed my life, my world, my marriage, forever. It was the day that my dreams of becoming a mother, the good old-fashioned biological way, were destroyed. Ripped to shreds. Smashed to smithereens. We asked the kind doctor if we had a chance of being one of those lucky couples—you know, the ones you always hear about. They started the adoption process and then got pregnant. They were told it would never happen and once they stopped the meds, the stress, the regimen that infertility treatments bring to your life, they got pregnant. The answer was not a chance in Hell. Never. That’s a hard thing to hear, when you’ve already had your gut kicked in, your heart ripped out, and you are crying so hard you’re in danger of dehydration. I will never forget that moment.

It’s been a tough five years. Many pregnancies—friends, co-workers, family members. People pregnant on purpose. People pregnant by mistake. And with each pregnancy—a baby shower to attend. To celebrate. The one thing I would never have. They killed me at first. In fact, I missed my BFF’s shower for her first child. It was 2 weeks after we found out. Too soon. The cuts were still wide open—and I didn’t need salt poured in them. It’s gotten a lot easier since then. I attend baby showers all the time now. Hell, I’ve even planned and hosted a few myself. Because that’s what you do. You stand by your friends, in happy times and in sad. And every one of my friends has been there for me. I’m lucky that way.

I’m still dealing with the idea that I’ll never be pregnant. I will never POAS and think of a clever way to tell the Mister that we did it! We made a baby! I will never see the wonder in his eyes and the joy on his face that moment brings. That breaks my heart. Every time someone announces to me that they are pregnant, I am genuinely thrilled for them. I really am. I’m just also a little bit sad for me. Why does it happen so easily for some? Why do they get to be parents, once, twice, three times over? Why can’t I have that???

I’m sure some of you are thinking, “what about adoption?” It’s in the cards for us, I’m sure…but it’s a long road that is emotionally trying. Plus it’s expensive. And, we’re just not there yet. We have some healing to do still. It didn’t just affect me. The Mister has been very affected by our diagnoses. So, we will wait until we are ready.

Through all this, I have to say, there has been a silver lining of sorts. We were married October, 2004. We started our fertility process in Feb of 2005. By April 5, 2005 we knew that no amount of treatment, IUI or IVF would work for us. We are lucky for that. We did not have to go through the months of hoping this was the month, only to be disappointed over and over again. I have friends who have gone through that—IUI, IVF, miscarriage—and I see the heartbreak… I’m not very religious, but God really does only give you what you can handle. I’m not sure I could have handled that—I’m not that strong. I admire those of you who have the strength to endure infertility treatments. And I pray that you are successful and hold a baby in your arms soon.

The other fortunate thing is that the Mister and I are both infertile. It’s not one or the other of us. We are fairly unique in that aspect and I feel so lucky to have found him—he is my rock.

So…when I started this blog, I wasn’t sure I was going to write about our infertility. It’s been weighing on my mind a lot lately though…so, here it is. Our story as to why we are not parents.

In case you are wondering here are our diagnoses…

The Mrs

The Mister  (link contains anotomical pictures) (OK, so there are pictures) (sort of)