Infertility is a thief.
It steals dreams, hopes, faith, and time.
Each month, I look up my estimated due date and dream about where in the year each milestone falls. Each month, I get my hopes up, only to watch them crash to the floor.
Each month, I find myself asking God what I did to deserve this. What I can do to make it right and hold the child in my dreams. Every month that there is one line instead of two is another month that I will not share with my child.
Infertility is an ocean of tears, a broken heart, an all-encompassing black hole. It tests, strengthens, and challenges our marriage.
Infertility has raped, broken, and beaten me. It doesn't hear prayers cried out in the silence of the night.
Infertility has taught me to get back up, even if it means picking the pieces of my heart off of the floor. It has taught me to not take anything for granted. It has taught me patience. It has taught me that when you hit rock bottom, the only place to go is up.
