A Letter to my (in)Fertility Family

a letter to my infertility family

how it feels

Dear Friend,

With the holidays beginning tomorrow, I wanted to take a moment to send some love your way.

The holidays bring up a lot of anxiety and grief when you’ve miscarried or are struggling to get pregnant.

You are NOT alone. It doesn’t matter if you miscarried five minutes or five months after you got a positive test. There are no false positives. It’s still a loss. It’s a death. It’s being excited and making plans and crying tears of joy and fear and then finding out not this time.  Or, if nothing you’re trying is working, it’s kind of the same, isn’t it?  You expect something to work, and then you get the “negative” phone call from the nurse.

I feel like I’ve been neglecting my roots a little bit lately. It’s been a whole lot of baby around here and on my Instagram. I want to assure you, though, that I have not forgotten. I never forget. I am so incredibly grateful for Lily and for the little one in my belly; however, I do not forget the six babies we lost before them.

(You can read our IVF story here.)

Please, oh please, dear one, give yourself and your partner the space you need to grieve and to heal during this time of year – whatever that looks like for you. Maybe you need to skip a few events or make the gathering smaller and more intimate. Or maybe it would feel better for you to immerse yourself in the busyness of it all. Honor your precious heart and mental state and do what feels right.

We’ve done it all over here – panic attacks, hiding in the bathroom, feeling like our value lies in our ability to have kids, feeling like no one understands, hugging our family members who do understand for a really long time in the kitchen…

To be honest, the holidays haven’t quite been the same for me since our second miscarriage. I lost the baby right before Christmas. This time of year still carries grief for me because I still feel the losses and the heartache of feeling alone and misunderstood.

Friend, I cannot say it enough. You are not alone. What’s the statistic? 1 in 8 women? Chances are pretty good someone in your family has experienced or is experiencing infertility and/or miscarriage. Cling to them.

It’s so hard. I know. There’s really no describing the pain and shame and brokenness.

You will make it through. Hang tight to those who know and understand (or at least try to understand), and do what you need to do for yourself. Do some yoga for a broken heart. Break some plates. Cry on the living room floor. Find a way to honor your losses. Share your story.  Write. Scream. Whatever you need to do, do it, without judgement or explanation.

You are loved. And you are not alone.