If you’re reading this because it’s addressed to you, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that even though you make it your mission to stay positive and grateful, you wake up every day with an ache in your heart that never seems to go away.
I’m sorry that people can be so unrelenting and naïve about your struggle with infertility.
“When are you having kids?”
“You just need to relax, and it’ll happen!”
“Have you tried tracking your cycle?”
“You should really just adopt.”
“Maybe your body is trying to tell you something.”
I’m sorry that when people are so unrelenting and naïve, you have to calm the lump in your throat before it turns into sobs, the anger in your heart before it turns into rage, and answer with dignity and grace when it feels like all you can muster is something far less becoming.
I’m sorry that you have to walk by that unfinished “guest room” every day and be reminded it was supposed to be a nursery a long time ago.
I’m sorry your relationship has been tested to the limits by everything you’ve had to endure together.
I’m sorry opening every baby shower invitation brings tears to your eyes when it should bring happiness to your heart.
I’m sorry you’ve been unable to make your parents grandparents when you know they’d be the best grandparents ever. I’m sorry you feel guilty because of it.
I’m sorry you have to watch the world go on around you when it feels like your whole world is falling apart.
I’m sorry that the emotional burden is not the only one you carry.
I’m sorry you have to put yourself into debt just to create the family you’ve always dreamed you’d have.
I’m sorry a diaper commercial can make you cry because you’ve held it together just long enough to get through the day without anyone knowing the sadness you carry.
I’m sorry you feel like your body has failed you.
I’m sorry you feel like you’re in this struggle alone.
But you’re not. I’m here with you.
The truth is, you don’t need me to tell you all the reasons why I’m sorry to be a part of this TTC sisterhood — you live it every day. You carry the same heartache and torment that I do. Right now, maybe what you need are all the reasons why I’m not sorry.
I’m not sorry you have learned to love yourself for your strength and courage. This journey is not easy, but you still get up every morning and find your inner strength even when it feels like there is none left.
I’m not sorry you have learned to be vulnerable with those whom you love. Sharing a private struggle like infertility can be terrifying, but vulnerability is not a weakness; it is heroic.
I’m not sorry this struggle will make you an even better mom someday. You have learned patience and compassion and gained a gentleness that can only be created through a heartache like this one.
I’m not sorry that your pain has helped you to find a voice to help others when they feel alone.
I’m not sorry that you’ve found the real meaning of friendship by learning to let some relationships go while growing others that are more fulfilling.
I’m not sorry you have learned how to really be there for your partner when they need you. I’m not sorry you’ve learned to let this heartache bring you closer instead of letting it tear you apart.
I’m not sorry you have had to learn how to put yourself first, placing your own needs before the needs of others.
I’m not sorry you have had to learn how to put all of your faith into something that carries no certainty, no guarantees but have learned to appreciate that there’s always a chance — always.
I’m not sorry that your infertility struggle has forced you to be grateful for all you do have in this life, and I’m not sorry that it’s taught you to appreciate the small things.
I’m not sorry that we’re all in this together.
Hundreds or even thousands of miles apart, we are all living the same story. So even if it’s just for today or even just in this moment, try not to be sorry you are a part of our sisterhood. We are some of the strongest women I know, and we’re all in this together.
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