The Post that Started it all...

On February 22, 2021 we got our fertility diagnosis. What many people do not know is that very night I went public with the news. Why? Well, for starters, I had already been carrying this "secret" for 16 months. I needed to get it out there. I needed to say it aloud. I needed to acknowledge it. I needed to feel it. I needed friends and coworkers to know why my eyes might be swollen or my mood might be clomid-crazy, or I might just seem "off". I also felt called to share. You see, about 2 weeks prior to receiving this news I started to get a couple random messages from some "long lost friends" (& no, I'm not talking the "OMG, GIRL! You should try my new magic pill to lose 10lbs overnight" kind) and even had some in-person conversations, too. Every one of them came out of the blue, and every one of them expressed how they felt I had a gift, or a knack, for sharing and uplifting others- specifically on social media. They shared stories of how I have helped them without my even knowing or how they always read every word I have to say and never "scroll past" my posts. I was taken aback and totally flattered by every message or conversation. Then I began hearing or feeling other nudges, ones from God that gave me hope. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. It’s so cliche, and it certainly doesn’t mean that it makes things hurt less, but I do believe that I’ve been assigned this mountain to show others that it can be moved (my new favorite quote- and my next Cricut project lol). For years I’ve watched dear friends of mine walk this journey in silence (in the public sense). While I’m choosing to share my story, I know that’s not for everyone. But I’m not one to sit in silence. There are tons of infertility FB communities and support groups out there, and those are wonderful. But ya know what? Those give me hella high levels of anxiety and make me go all WebMD on myself. I find it more therapeutic to share with all kinds of people. I find it calming and comforting to know how many people are checking in on us, praying for us, supporting us, loving us. What my FB friends don't know is that because of them, on what started as the worst day of my life, I sobbed tears of joy and hope and felt more seen and at peace than I had ever been. The night started with the news, and ended with feeling so surrounded by prayers and love. I am so glad I didn't wait another minute to share what I did. I needed to feel all that love and support to help me see that I can get through this.

I’m quite the talker (and rambler, if you can’t tell- ha), so now that you know a little bit about why I felt so called to share, I’ll cut to the chase. Here’s the post that started it all...

1 in 8 women will experience infertility. I am one in 8.

This is not something I ever envisioned myself sharing, or even going through for that matter. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a mom. I’ve dreamt of baby names, nursery decor, dance recitals, boo boos, graduations, weddings and grandchildren. I’m the crazy girl who started a baby Pinterest board before she was even in a serious relationship. I’ve attended countless baby showers and always thought “one day it will be your turn” (bc I knew, at that given time, I wasn’t ready). Now, at 31, I’m ready, and I’m being told that best case scenario, the likelihood of having my own biological child is 10-15%.

I contemplated whether I would share this or not. It’s been a difficult, and at times incredibly lonely, journey. While I know Bradford and I have the most wonderful family and friends, even he and I can’t fully comprehend what the other is going through. It’s the hardest thing our marriage has ever gone through. Now we’re being faced with the very real possibility that our family may not be blood- or may not all be blood. Something I’ve never been against, but it feels different when it may be your only option.

I’m sharing this incredibly long rambling post for several reasons:

1- My chances of pregnancy are low because I have an incredibly low egg count. So few that they can’t be harvested to be frozen. So few that IVF isn’t even an option. The test to know your viable egg count is a very simple blood test. One that truthfully should be offered to every woman and paid for by their insurance when they are at their annual exam throughout their 20s. We’ll never truly know if a test when I was 25 would have given me the ability to freeze my eggs and then have my family in my 30s, but what if it’s in the cards for you or your partner reading this and you don’t even know it? Ask your doctor. Establish your career, take the trip, have fun- but advocate for your future, too.

2- We’re getting ready to embark on a very anxious and statistically daunting (for our case) journey of IUI- our only option to have a child that’s biologically ours. If you’re the praying kind, we need ALL the prayers we can get. Please.

3- As a friendly reminder that we never truly know what battles others are fighting. And we never know why a couple doesn’t have a child. Please, please, please be mindful of that before you ask questions or make assumptions. Infertility hurts so badly. And being asked when you’re going to have kids when you’ve been praying for 16 months to see those pink lines cuts to core. Being told “how easy it was” for you to have a child or how you just “keep popping them out” when you’ve been praying so hard hurts so much. Please note, I am incredibly happy for each of my friends who get to experience pregnancy and have their healthy babies, but man am I jealous, too. Please just think before you speak.

4- I know I’m not alone. For 16 months I’ve confided in close friends but felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Keeping a debilitating secret. Wearing a fake smile. Going through the motions. Taking drugs to make my body do something, altering my mood, then acting like I have it all together, when in all actuality, it feels like my world is crumbling and I’m always one small something away from a breakdown. But I KNOW I’m not the only person who feels this way. Right now. In this exact moment. Maybe you’re reading this right now and walking this journey also, feeling every little thing I’m explaining. We don’t have to do this alone. And while my friends who have walked this path before me, and now have sweet little babies of their own, have been INCREDIBLY HELPFUL, it helps to know someone who’s in the trenches with you right now, too.

5- I’m going to begin seeing an infertility and pregnancy loss counselor this week (shameless plug for the importance of mental health and counseling). After months of thinking I could do this on my own, it feels freeing to say I can’t, and I’m getting professional help.

Whew that was a lot. I don’t really know where I want to take this post. I do want to thank our family and friends who have prayed with us and been there for us thus far (y’all know who you are). Perhaps I’ll end with this... always be more kind than necessary, think before you speak, remember that people share their smiles on social media and so seldom their tears, count your blessings for the amazing miracles you’re given, and don’t forget to pray for those who are still awaiting theirs.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk. And most of all, thank you for your prayers for baby Ziggy.

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