I haven’t been ready to share because infertility is private. It’s personal and intimate and sometimes embarrassing.
I haven’t been ready to share because I often felt like was infertility was my fault. Like that for whatever reason, God didn’t think I was fit to be a mother. That I was being punished for mistakes I’d made.
I haven’t been ready to share because I was angry. Not always, but sometimes the thought frustrated me to no end.
I haven’t been ready to share because sometimes I would tell people about my openness to adoption. About the desire to love children, no matter how they got to me. And sometimes people would say adoption wasn’t good enough.
I haven’t been ready to share because I sometimes felt ashamed. Like by divine design my role in life was to be a mother, but I was physically incapable of being one.
I haven’t been ready to share because for years we weren’t ready for kids. And for years people told us waiting (to take drastic measures) made us terrible people.
I haven’t been ready to share because not everyone was ready to listen.
But now I’m ready to share. I’m ready to say the last five years have done me good. That Lance and I are better for what we’ve been through. Our infertility story hasn’t felt like many of the rest. We haven’t spent years in tears when the monthly negatives came. I haven’t avoided baby showers or wondered each month if this would be the month.
But we have spent thousands of dollars on doctor appointments, medications and surgeries. We’ve wondered when and how our kids would come. We’ve wondered how people can be so naive.
I didn’t know when I’d be ready, but I told myself I’d post when I was.
I’m ready to say infertility is hard, but it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s controlling, but it’s not in charge.
I’m ready to say that things aren’t always as they seem. That infertility sometimes feels like a silent battle fought alone, but it doesn’t have to be. That support is there if you’re open to it.
I’m ready to say people can be cruel, but I know they don’t always mean to be, and I forgive them either way.
I’m ready to say I still believe in adoption and consider it an equal option, not a backup plan or second, lesser choice.
I’m ready to say that I trust God and believe He has a plan for us, and it’s the right one even if it’s different from yours.
With my daughter in my arms, I’m ready to say it was worth it.