No Appropriate or Creative Title

Since the turn of the new year, I've found myself struggling to remain hopeful. As we approach four years of trying to conceive a child, I'm becoming frustrated and angry. Today is one of those days where the hurt has piled up within me, urging me to just go back to bed and sleep it off. Nearly four years of my body essentially failing me has taken it's toll. There's nothing I've wanted more in my life than to get pregnant and start our family; having been refused this by my own body is devastating.

Jamie says I'm pessimistic. I say hope and disappointment are directly related; the more hopeful I am, the more disappointed I am when I find I'm not pregnant. What he sees as pessimism is my attempt at guarding myself from my own internal crash at the sight of that first smear of blood.

Infertility feels like an attack on my womanhood; like I am a failure at my most primitive responsibility. While I know I am not alone, and know friends and family who have or are currently struggling with infertility, it's isolating. Being seemingly surrounded by pregnant women is difficult, to say the least. I'm extremely happy for the pregnant women in my life, but I am extremely sad for me. What was once mild envy and a starry-eyed daydream of my own future has turned to a feeling of resentment toward myself. Why can't I do that? Why won't my body do that for me? 

What's worse is knowing that had I not suffered through infertility all of this time, I'd have a toddler by now. Why stop there? I could have even had a second child by now! But I don't have either, all because my body won't work for me.

"It'll happen!" I'm told. While I appreciate the support, it makes me want to scream, "WHEN!?" though I know no one has that answer.

"Enjoy your time being kid-less!" is also a common suggestion and we do. We take full advantage of not having any children, and it's fantastic. Jamie and I have a lot of fun with each other, our family, and our friends, but I'm ready to put that on the back burner. I'm ready to not sleep. I'm ready for the gross stuff and I'm ready for the sweet stuff. I'm ready to be in charge of creating and molding a little life. I'm ready to teach and learn from it.

I'm ready to be a mother and to see Jamie as a dad and there's nothing worse right now than being inexplicably denied of these things.