Dear Infertility, I hated you. You steal dreams. You break hearts. You bring grief. You consume lives. You are the reason I couldn’t get pregnant on my own. You drowned my heart in deep misery from the inability to become a Mother how most women do. You told me that my body wasn’t good enough. You may have been a huge part of my story, but you never defined me. And on this day, two years ago, I kicked your ass. I defeated you. I showed you that there is victory in infertility and God finally planted life in my womb.
Infertility, there are so many things you brought with you when you entered my life. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t get pregnant. You brought me more tears than I ever thought I could shed. Because of you I laid on my bathroom floor in complete emptiness after countless negative pregnancy tests time and time again.
I had to endure shots, bruises, and all kinds of meds because when you are infertile and you seek fertility treatment for help, that is what you are in for. You are expensive and exhausting physically, emotionally, and mentally. Infertility, you drowned my heart in disappointment and agony. And truthfully, it was pretty painful every time I heard the words “I’m pregnant” from someone other than myself. And yet, in the midst of all of that-you brought me hope.
As much as I hated you, Infertility, I am also so thankful that you were my story. You were my ashes, but God made you beautiful
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