It is what it is.

We're trying to get pregnant. There, I said it. It has been a long road, and it hasn't been easy. And I'm still not pregnant. I was once, but not for long, and that's a post for another day when I'm once again feeling a little bit brave/frustrated and/or gutsy enough to post that. Or maybe tomorrow. We'll see. Anyway, that being said, several months ago my sister Alyson sent me the link to a blog where a girl posted about her trial with infertility. When I read it, I wanted to hug her, and shout "AMEN!" and cry for her all at the same time. I was relieved to know that I wasn't alone and was amazed to see how clearly she was able to describe what it is like, living with infertility. And then I started adding to her list in my brain, and then I started writing down what it has been like for me. And before I knew it, my list was kind of really long.

I didn't think I'd share this, and truthfully, am still nervous about doing so. I am not doing this as a cry for sympathy because that isn't going to change anything. I think more than anything, I want people to be able to just be aware. And though this post may seem kind of like a downer, and let's face it, this has been quite the little trial for me, I also want to share how much I have learned from it. I have learned a lot, I feel, but the thing that sticks out the most to me, is that I have completely and totally learned how much my Heavenly Father loves me, and is aware of me. I've learned that the atonement is in place so that I can be comforted by my Savior, Jesus Christ. I've learned that showing love, and receiving love is the easiest way to feel better about anything. And I've become so grateful for all of the love that I have in my life.

So, all that being said, here's a picture of pretty cherry blossoms, and a little insight into my life.




Infertility as I know it, and as I've experienced it:

It's what you think about constantly, CONSTANTLY, though your thoughts are less optimistic every month. It's all of the possibilities and impossibilities that are forever running through and being spelled out in your mind.

It's the fact that it's nobody's fault and there's nothing "wrong" with either of you, but still feeling a little broken. And blaming yourself for things not going right, thinking, "If only I had..."

It's wearing waterproof mascara on days you find out you're not  pregnant, because you might be fine, but you also might break down crying at any given moment.

It's buying diapers at Costco every time there is a coupon, hoping this box will be the one that isn't given as a gift.

It's the adorable Mickey and Minnie dolls that were bought in 2009 for the future babies, that are still sitting in the closet.

It's people trying to relate, and giving terrible reasons on how they "know how you're feeling."

It's people that, whether or not they can relate, still somehow manage to say exactly what you need to hear, that you will repeat to yourself time and time again.

It's not being able to sleep at night because TOMORROW is the day you find out if you are pregnant! And it's knowing that tomorrow could be the day that everything changes, but then learning that everything will stay about the same.

It's looking at your cute husband with his dimples and dying to know if your babies will have them too. And will they have his brown eyes or your green? And his curly hair or your straight?

It's remembering when you would say you would have six kids in six years, and realizing it is now likely an impossibility.

It's feeling guilty about the years that you didn't want to get pregnant. Guilty that you didn't want to be a newlywed, poor student, and mom all at the same time. Guilty that you like working and making money. Guilty that you take vacations in the meantime.

It's wanting to shout from the rooftops that you're trying and have been for ages.

It's telling your friends and family when you first get started with treatments, not realizing that every disappointment would then be multiplied by the number of people you told. Not realizing that your heart breaks a little more each time, and how hard it is to always deliver bad news. Not realizing that you would feel so vulnerable every single time. Not realizing that no matter how many people you tell, you still feel very alone.

It's counting time by two week increments. Two weeks until the next procedure, two weeks until you can find out.

It's recognizing how blessed you are and feeling selfish praying and asking for just one more baby-shaped blessing.

It's splurging at Christmas because it's your last as a family of two. And then again the next year. And again this coming year. And so help me if next year too.

And speaking of Christmas, it's not just wanting a baby but wanting a full blown family of 15, because holidays  are way more fun with kids involved.

It's wanting something so badly that seems forever out of reach.

It's being a planner, and realizing and learning the hard way that you are not in control. And it's not knowing what to plan anymore.

It's friends that get uncomfortable around you because they are afraid you'll come unglued when they announce they're pregnant, or trying, or not trying but getting pregnant anyway.

It's learning to be truly happy for others and their sweet families that are growing, even though your situation couldn't be more opposite.

It's scheduling appointments without asking what it will cost, because frankly, it doesn't matter, you'd do it anyway.

It's shots and pills and very specific timing.

It's wanting to punch people when they suggest anything. "Have you tried an ovulation kit?" Uh, yeah genius, about 16 of them.

And of course it's people saying, "Once you stop trying, then it'll happen." As if you would ever stop trying to become a mom, the one thing you've been sure that you wanted since you were born.

It's using the term, "bypass the cervix" and knowing what that means. And that your uterus is a common topic of discussion.

It's going to kids' birthday parties and feeling like others' lives are flying by, and that yours is at a standstill.

It's buying a house to grow into, only for the future nursery to stay vacant for years.

It's wanting to know what it feels like to love something so perfectly and indescribably.

It's wanting a baby, your own baby, to know how much it is already loved.

It's hoping. But trying not to get your hopes up.

It's frustrating. But trying to endure.

It's scary. But trying to be brave.

It's heartbreaking. But nothing.

It's knowing that God loves you and is aware of you, and that this will all be worth it someday.

It's wanting "someday" to be now.