Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Trash Lessons

Well, friends, something I'm not is... oblivious.

But it would be good if I could be, experiencing infertility and all.

Sorry if I sound sarcastic, but it's been a sad holiday. I'm 35, and have no kiddos to buy for on Christmas. However, I do have the greatest gift of all - Jesus. I have Him in my life every day - praise His name forever - so I don't need Christmas day set aside to celebrate Him. That's my feeling about it.

Anywho, today was trash day in our neighborhood. Our own trash bin was full until it was partially open. However, upon looking at our neighbor's bins - an obvious no-no if you're experiencing infertility - I noticed a discrepancy.

Large, colorful trash bags in red, blue and yellow filled one bin, complete with several large boxes outside. Another had wooden sticks and many white bags in addition to boxes announcing their now-removed contents. Even trash is different for the fertile.

Empty boxes that once held kids' toys pack the trash truck as it pulls away. Even the little things say alot to those of us experiencing loss.

So, my friends, there is 'fertile' trash and 'infertile' trash. Unless we're talking the potential for rotting, in which case all things are equal.

I surely hope 2010 is better than 2009. You can read our experiences on the side, so I'll focus on the good. I have Jesus as my savior, a loyal hubby and 2 sweet cats. I have food and a roof over my head. We have 2 cars that work. So in God's economy, we are blessed.

We each have needs, however. I will keep on giving them to my Lord, who is accomplishing His purposes through my needs. Dear Lord, have mercy on me, and rescue me from the pit. I know You are good - forever and ever.

Friday, December 11, 2009

A Little Tree

It's been awhile since I've posted... partly because I've been somewhat busy (somewhat meaning I don't have the social obligations associated with CHILDREN during this Christmas season) and partly because I don't feel very good during this time of the year.

I'll start with the good. We went on a cruise. We had promised ourselves that if IVF #2 didn't work, believing of course that it WOULD, we would go on a cruise. Before you get all excited for us, let me tell you that yes, we were blessed to be able to go. We did, however, encounter tropical storm Ida waters, which put my motion sickness patch into overtime mode and woke us up at 3am from moving in our bed! I 'poisoned' myself from my patch by scratching it (must've been itching me), then taking a nap (lucky I could do that mid-day) and then yes, rubbing my eyes upon awakening, forgetting I had scratched the patch! I'm a pharmacist, so I was kicking myself for the next 4 days as my dilated pupils made putting on eyeliner and reading im-pos-ib-le!

We went to the Eastern Caribbean - St. Thomas, St. Maarten, the Bahamas, and Grand Turk in the Turk and Cacos islands. It was the second week of November, and still very hot. The water was so blue - once you see it, you won't ever forget it. My main goal was to lay out and try to tan my very fair skin. I succeeded, and didn't burn too much, which is a miracle in itself. Plus, I LOVE people-watching. Cruises are perfect for that. There were alot of older people on our cruise, few children (the goal) and some people our age. Over 3,000 people - so lots to see.

We both became very sick about 2 days after returning. I looked it up, and we had post-cruise sickness. There's a fancy name for it, but I don't remember it. We both had raging headaches, couldn't concentrate and were very fatigued. It basically is just your body trying to return to the feel of solid ground, since it accommodates for the ocean's movement for you. And I could feel the 'motion of the ocean' for about a week afterward.

I believe God was trying to tell us: yes, life is very painful for you both right now, but even on a cruise, life can be less than perfect. It helped me with the inevitable 'crash' back into our life. Especially with the Christmas season upon us.

As I was walking out of church one evening, God spoke to me. 'Even though you aren't putting up a Christmas tree (we haven't in 3 years; more on that later), you can create one to Me in your heart'. Tears filled my eyes, and I thought, why God, why, can't I just be like everybody else, and not have a reason to not put up a tree? For me, this was a HUGE deal, but I decided, I'm doing it. I'm praising Jesus with my own Little Tree.

So friends, my tree has pink and purple branches. It has multiple praise ornaments, praising Jesus for coming to us, praising Him for dying for us, for forgiving our sins, for raising from the dead and being alive, for being with us and never leaving or forsaking us. I love aurora borealis colors - pastels in a full rainbow - so my ornaments are made of those beads and colors. And of course, I have ornaments to honor our children, Gracie and Aidan, who I believe are in Heaven waiting for us.

So my Little Tree sits, not in a window, not where anyone can see it, but only where I can see it; and now, you can, too. I am experiencing why it matters SO much the reason we put up a tree. It isn't so we can see it when we pull up in our driveway, so we know the neighbors can see it, because our children want a tree or because our family is coming over.

I need to put up a tree in my heart - to honor what matters most in my life, my relationship with Jesus. He is Who is keeping me, Who opens my door at night for me, and says, come inside, my daughter, to the home I provide for you. I do not understand that home, that home with empty rooms and quiet hallways, though I DO love quiet (and children are most definitely not quiet). I do not understand the long wait, long waits through many Christmases.

The worst day of my life was December 12, 2006. I have mentioned before about our first miscarriage, and this was the day that was supposed to be one of the happiest of our lives - the first ultrasound. Murray was with me (praise God for that) as the doctor choked back tears telling us that the ultrasound was not normal. I had been SO sick with morning sickness, and I told myself, I can do this, if this is what it means to have a baby.

Our world came crashing down around us that day. I had a D&C 2 days before Christmas that year. It was the worst Christmas of our lives, followed unfortunately by 3 more now. As you can read on the side of this blog, we have been through alot since then. And still, no baby.

The anniversary of this day is tomorrow. I have to work, but fortunately, it is a half-day. But I will have to write the date on the prescriptions I take over the phone, and I know it will make me very sad. Working with the public is SO difficult this time of the year. They don't feel good, and they take it out on us. And I don't feel good, so it's a bad combination.

I can't say it very often, but I will say it to you - Merry Christmas, friends. It will get better for us - I know it.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


Ok, friends, something I'm not is... confident.

I wouldn't say in the personal realm. More in the 'life is gonna turn out good and I know it' realm. But then again, if you're reading this blog and going through infertility, you know exactly what I mean.

Since I've posted last, we visited an adoption agency in Texas. We used to live there before moving to Alabama, and we have some acquaintances who have used this agency and had a good experience. By the way, I still do not feel 'called to adopt'. But I know I feel called to be a mother to a living child.

We signed up with this agency, and wrote them our first check (of many) while we were there. Hmm. We looked at some of the photo albums and Dear Birth Mother letters. Hmm. We looked at some of the pictures that were posted of adopted children. That was so interesting. Those pictures were the first good thing I can remember seeing in a long time in this infertility journey. It seems I'm always seeing the ultrasounds of others, the baby shower invitations of others, the pregnancy announcement emails of others. So to see that this has WORKED for other women with infertility (you have to have a medical diagnosis of infertility to use this agency), well, it makes me say - hmm (my apologies for reminding you of a song of a similar name).

At church on Sunday, our pastor spoke out of Genesis 12 on Abraham. It's the time when he is literally called by God to "leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you" (Genesis 12:1). And he will be blessed richly for doing this. I felt God speaking to me in spite of myself. You have to understand, walking into church right now feels almost like a joke. How can I be angry at Him and still go and try my best to offer the sacrifice of praise?

But God understands us. He knows my motive - to try to hang onto Him. And I know He is holding onto me, even when I beg Him to just let me go. And I have, so many times.

Anyway, this adoption agency places many Hispanic children, and for us, we would be delighted with that. It just feels right - I can honestly say that. And so when the pastor read this verse, it resonated with me. It does feel like leaving your country - what you're comfortable with - and reaching out to another culture. And while we don't know exactly how or when or anything about any of this, it does seem like I can hear the whisper, ever so quietly, of God extending this same invitation to us. And it is amazing just how quiet a whisper it has been. Perhaps (who am I kidding?) God knows just how emotionally painful it would be if He just declared from the rooftops "MY DAUGHTER, WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADOPT SINCE YOU CANNOT HAVE A BIOLOGICAL CHILD?" I would be angry and crying and feeling ashamed.

The sermon title was Do You Have a Dream? Oh boy, do I. And do we all. And following this dream, any true dream, will take: courage, big faith, meet big needs, and TAKE TIME. Amen, dear pastor. The taking time part has nearly ripped the faith right out of me. And some hours, some days, it does. But then, I spend some time outside, maybe trimming ivy or picking up some sticks from our many trees in our yard. Or I'll go the botanical garden like I did today.

And the sun in the leaves, the clear blue sky, the air - does something to me. I'm still that broken-hearted, bruised, sad, disappointed girl. But something has changed.

For just a moment, I forget I have infertility.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


When I was a youngster (whatever that means - heavens), periodically I would be invited to a church lock-in. This was a night at church spent playing games, going bowling, watching movies - basically anything to keep us up all night, while we were 'locked-in' at the church or with the church group. It was fun - it felt like breaking the rules, but was in the confines of the church and chaperones. A little mischief always went on... but it was nothing major at the ones I attended, anyway.

Today, my friends, I'm having my own Lock-In.

I work part-time as a pharmacist - a stressful job. I'm off on Wednesdays, and while I usually have my schedule pretty full - gym, wash clothes, take my car in, Wednesday night Bible study - today, I'm locking myself in.

Why, you ask? Well, I got another pregnancy announcement last night, thankfully via email. But it wasn't easy to receive.

My hubby called out from the next room, sweetie you better check your email. We both get emails from our Sunday school distribution, and he had already read it. As soon as I saw the sender, I knew. 'Oh, no - oh, man' I said. Let me say, these friends have been through a very bad situation - their first child passed away of anencephaly (lack of brain formation) a few minutes after birth, at around 20 weeks. This was maybe 7 or 8 months ago. So I am delighted to know that they are in this place, however terrifying it must be. They said the doctor wants to follow this pregnancy very closely. Understandable. And then an ultrasound was posted on Facebook.

I've officially banned myself from Facebook for as long as I can muster. And I did block their posts, I'm sad to say.

They are the "last couple": the one who, when they got pregnant, I was officially going to feel hopeless. I can think of only one other couple in our Sunday school class who isn't either pregnant, doesn't already have children or isn't adopting. And this is by choice. And then there's us.

My friends who announced their pregnancy - let's call them the King's - have patiently waited 'their turn.' Don't get me wrong. As unfair as having to wait for a turn really is. And we all know it is. But WE have waited - BEYOND our turn. And yet, nothing.

I'm not going to Bible study at church tonight. I just can't bear to be around people. I'm one of those people who gets energized by being in solace. So, here I am, posting to you all, watching America's Next Top Model reruns, and washing a few clothes because I'm a hopeless neat freak.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

A Good Person

Alas, my friends, Something I'm Not, especially these days is... a good person.

I don't FEEL like one, anyway.

I hate going to Sunday school.

And my hubby's birthday is tomorrow, and I'm angry as all getout. I want to give him a living child who can call him Daddy.

We have Care Groups in our Sunday school class. They are smaller groups where we share prayer requests. We used to have ones to add periodically - I'm beginning injections for this round of IVF, please pray for the egg retrieval, yes they are taking multiple eggs out of my ovaries, which is why I'm in such a good mood (not!) right now, pray for the embryo transfer, pregnancy test next week. We no longer have prayer requests that we can mention. Something along the lines of "Help! We're desperately broken! I cry myself to sleep. I can't sleep. I want to stop living..."

But I won't stop, because He won't stop. Jesus loves me so much, so I ask Him - breathe into me. I am nothing. But You are everything.

A few weeks ago, a couple in our care group announced their pregnancy. I should be praising God for them. Their story is incredible. They lost twin boys at 19 weeks gestation a few months ago to Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. I was furious at God for them when this all happened, and our Sunday school class was floored. They cooked meals for them. We all lifted them up in prayer. Just wouldn't you know it, I was sitting next to her when she announced this subsequent pregnancy to the whole class, maybe 25 couples.

I tried to smile, and say how wonderful. But my face has always been more honest than I would prefer. I was crushed. Dear hubby said, we can't expect them to cater to us. This is true. But all I could think was, God this is how much You love them... and how much You don't love us.

Like I said, I'm not a good person.

In my heart, I want all the good things for them. But I can't touch what that might mean in my mind, lest I drop down into what is missing in my own life.

Another couple in our Care Group is adopting from China. They are there right now receiving their daughter. We hear continuous updates from her best friend, who incidentally, lost a baby herself at around 20 weeks to Anencephaly (lack of brain formation). Our class has been hit in the baby department, there is no doubt. But I feel all alone.

I didn't go to the hospital to deliver my (dead) babies. But 2 D&Cs after our miscarriages took them from my womb. When I walk into class, only once (praise God) has someone asked how I am doing. No one offers to make us meals. No one remembers the pain.

I sound self-absorbed, and I am. But I won't always be here. I won't always be grieving this much. But I'd like to not feel stuck here.

I believe that God is keeping me in this place because I need the rest. Though sometimes I can do anything but that. I exercise until I'm exhausted. I stay late at work to avoid going home. The weekend, which should make me glad, causes me anguish as I have time to recall the life I'd like to be living (family time with children). I awake in the middle of the night for hours sometimes. I feel like I am wasting the most precious years of my life - or more accurately, that they are BEING WASTED for me.

Anger is my little buddy. Oh yes, he's my stuffed snuggle bunny who I fall asleep with at night, and carry in my arms by day. I try to lay him down, but he's so... snuggly. I keep praying and laying him down, only to find him back in my arms again. And on top of it all, my parents are just no help.

That's a very long story for another post. Suffice it to say, my parents are Christians, praise God, but they are not able to be the role models and friends that I need in this journey. There are many reasons for that, but alas. I leave them at your feet, Jesus.

Until later, dear friends.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Called To ?

I have a few friends who have adopted. One has 2 children through domestic adoption and another is traveling to China September 10 to bring home her daughter. Both friends said they always 'felt called to adopt.' I don't know about the always part - maybe I put that in there. Not going into each of their stories, they each have a different path to this point. Whether through infertility treatment or deciding to not pursue that, each has a different road they took. And neither road looks like mine.

I, however, absolutely do not feel 'called to adopt.' What exactly am I called to do in this area? I have no idea.

This is a lonely path. No one I personally know has experienced multiple miscarriages AND infertility, with no living children. I know you ladies are out there, and I am grateful that you are. How I wish none of us had to seek each other out! How I wish we each never knew this thorny, boulder-filled road! What a sweet victory we will each experience when Jesus returns one day, to redeem this earth and each of us! Our stories will end vastly differently than they began.

We have the adoption paperwork sitting all organized in a designer hanging file box - one of those with pink and green flowers with brown accents. Each hanging file folder is different - one with stripes, one with flowers, some embossed. So creative, pretty - but I want nothing to do with any of it. It hurts my heart to begin this journey. Somehow I have to admit defeat. Somehow I have to admit that IVF didn't work, and though it's completely obvious, I just can't let it go.

A friend who went through this 2nd round of IVF with me and is pregnant is in a Bible study with me. Seeing her is SO difficult. She isn't showing much yet, but it's coming. Her face is much rounder, and while very nearly the only physical change I can see for now, even that pains me. She is a sweetheart, but when she told me she 'understands what I'm going through' I want to tell her, oh no you don't. Granted, she HAD infertility treatment, but for them, it was male factor infertility. Their first round of IVF was a success. She has never had a miscarriage, much less 2. I wanted so much to let her know how much she didn't understand. But I know that would be wrong.

And why does she have to understand, God asked me? I understand you, each of your thoughts, each of your tears, each of your pains, your confusion. Let me be the One who understands you. Ok, God, but sometimes I'm mad at You. That's ok, My child. I'm not leaving you, ever. But sometimes I want to leave You, God - but I won't. Don't let me.

Today my friend adopting from China had her baby shower at church. Eden, her daughter, is no longer a baby, but for my friend, having the shower meant so much. Waking up this morning, I was angry. My friend is celebrating a victory, but the more I feel her happiness, the sadder I get. So to avoid that, I just got angry. Anger and infertility go so well together, I'm afraid. I have been praying for help in this area, but so far, God is asking me to lean on Him, yet my anger remains.

I walked into the banquet hall, beautiful music playing and round tables laid out with pink decorations. I was carrying a fruit tray with the price sticker still on it. I was late, and they had to make room for my fruit. I had intended on leaving after dropping off the fruit and a gift card, the only baby or child gift I can manage to purchase at this time. For a moment, I thought, maybe I can stay, maybe I can do this. Then a mutual friend said to everyone 'oh, you're so lucky you look so good at your shower! My ankles were swollen, my belly was big, and I felt just awful at my shower!' That was my signal to exit.

I made it to my car without my lips trembling, but inside, I felt ashamed. Why couldn't I do this, why couldn't I stay? Somehow the shower being held at church felt more divinely-ordained than an ordinary shower. And yet, the very road my friend had taken to arrive here was the same road I felt 'not called' to take. How wrong did that make me?

My head felt like it was about to explode. All of my emotions were roiling, not to mention the fact that my hubby had to pick up the fruit tray because I was running late and bring it to the church for me. He was furious. Why couldn't he understand I didn't do this on purpose? When I told him my heart is grieving, he said, over what now? My hubby is really the sweetest man on earth, but he is still a man. He is lucky in that he doesn't FEEL all the feelings women feel who struggle with infertility. But dealing with the lack of harmony in this area is difficult.

So, I went to get a pedicure. There's not much that a pedicure won't 'cure.' I chose a coral-hued polish and waited. It was crowded, but nothing that a wrinkled In Style magazine from May wouldn't cure. I can read that stuff as the day is long, and be distracted I think, even from impending death. Listening to all the women (and 2 men) around me made me feel equal with them. There was no comparing child photos, child accomplishments, numbers of children, due dates. Just us and our nails.

And in that comparison, my nails looked pretty good.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


Well, friends, something I'm not is... happy-go-lucky.

I wouldn't say I've lost my sense of humor, just that it's been changed.  I laugh as often as I can, because I know just how much I need to.  I value a good laugh more today than I ever have. However, I find that in my day to day existence, my innocence is gone.  I'm a little hesitant to rejoice, hesitant to be happy.  I find that contentment is difficult to come by.  I believe that one day, this will change - it will get better.

Even when something good DOES eventually happen to me in the having-a-child-in-our-lives department, I'm going to feel more like it could be taken away.  When we got pregnant with our first child, we decided to name her Grace.  My morning sickness was terrible, but I told myself, this is what women do.  It really was the change-your-life type of morning sickness, where just the smell of certain foods was enough to send me to the ladies room.  I popped Zofran like it was candy.  

The day we went for our first ultrasound, I wore a blue Life Is Good t-shirt with a small oval of the woods on it.  It reminded me of the trip we had taken to Yosemite.  My hubby joined me - and as the doctor joined us, I said, please give us 3 pictures, one for us and one for each of the first-time grandparents!  I laid back and the doctor began describing what he saw.  I had no clue what he was talking about, but he was saying the things he saw like a list.  

And then I asked, is everything ok?

When he said no ... the world fell out from under me.

I was certain I had misheard him.  But as he spoke, his voice cracked, and though I didn't know him very well at the time, I believed his emotion.  We could go the lab and have some HCG levels taken, and then come back 2 days later, he said and have more HCG levels taken.  Sitting in the lab waiting room, the edges of our reality began to fray.  I called work to let them know and to try to be off the rest of the day.  Murray called his mom, and I reached my dad on his cell phone.  

It was true - my HCG levels, though very high - over 20,000 - were decreasing.  I even missed my doctor's confirmation phone call because I was throwing up.  A D&C was scheduled for 2 days before Christmas.

This happened in 2006, and though I'd like to say I've come further with this, I really haven't.  I feel stuck in the sorrow.  We still have no living children to this day.  But I KNOW my Gracie is waiting on us in heaven, along with her brother.  (I never knew the sex of either of my children, but we have decided to accept them as a girl and a boy, respectively.)

So pardon me if I have trouble believing that good can happen to me.  Because I don't.  Please instead, believe that for me.  And pray.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009


I've been having trouble sleeping lately.  Not because I haven't tried: I've exercised (ok, maybe too close to bedtime, but not usually), reduced my caffeine intake, journaled, prayed, talked to my hubby.  One night, I even took a sleeping pill.  Being a pharmacist myself, I am well aware of the addictive potential in these seemingly innocuous pills.  I was willing to try anything, however.  I discovered I'm not a fan of the after effects - dizziness, grumpiness, grogginess - the following day, even though the pill isn't supposed to remain in your system that long.  So, no easy answers here.

I am like a little processing plant trying to process where we are.  And where is that, you ask? In the land of We Cannot Have Children.  We can always attempt to adopt, but that is a separate issue.  For now, I may as well be wearing a sign on my head: "Mind Full: Grieving Miscarriages and Childlessness."

I won't always feel this way.  I keep telling my hubby and parents: one day, I'll get better.  I won't hurt this much.  But for now, keeping my head up takes all I've got.  Going to the gym takes God-strength.  Learning our new computer system at work makes my mind fuzzy. Driving past the fertility clinic makes me feel wistful.  

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Please Don't Leave Me

I love this song by Pink.  My heart feels so sad today - I started my period before my beta from IVF #2.  I never knew that could happen.  I'm due to go in for the beta on Monday and found a surprise today on Saturday.  I'm on the Endometrin suppositories, but apparently, if it's not going to happen, then it's not going to happen.

I had suspected I wasn't pregnant,  but this adds insult to injury.  I'm still keeping up the progesterone so I won't beat myself up that I didn't continue it.  

We got our paperwork from the adoption agency yesterday.  Thank you, Lord, that it arrived before my period.  Hope is so hard to hang onto these days, and knowing we can move forward helps.  It's like the first step in a long, long journey.  I can't believe after all we've been through - IUIs, Clomid, an FET, 2 IVFs and 2 miscarriages - now we get to go down the long road to adoption!  

Friday, July 24, 2009

Snow Pea Jackpot

We ate some bag salad last night; Very Veggie it is called.  It's the usual romaine, cabbage and carrot mixture - but with snow peas.  Normally, there are very few snow peas.  However this bag was FULL of them.  My husband does not like them, and when I began to eat the salad he had put in a bowl for me, I said 'ok, did you give me all the snow peas?'.

No, was his response, that's how many there were in there!  I was in shock.  Now, why would I even mention this?

Well, the irony, my friends, is gargantuan.  Here we are, nearly 3 years, 3 IUIs, an FET, 2 miscarriages and 2 IVFs later, and still no baby.  Yet, we hit the snow pea jackpot.  And I didn't even want them!  I wanted a baby.

But I got the snow peas.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Everything's Different

I opened a few windows this morning.  Pollen is highest in the morning, but I figured I better let in the fresh air while I can - this is July, after all!  How different for July - a mild morning in the 70s in Alabama!  Surely we haven't had a July day like this in years.   And we may not again.

Hubby is at church - where I should be.  I was up late last night - afraid of how this IVF is going to turn out.  Not a good excuse, but I've found that sometimes I have to find my own way in my relationship with God.  I try my best to yield to His guidance, and though I fall far short I know, He knows my heart.  

Yup, I'm very afraid of what the future holds for us.  I try not to be, but the truth is the feelings are there.  I know my God is going to grow our family - though I don't know how, or when or why it has taken SO long and hurt SO much.

Now that we've done IVF #2, I think we are pretty much done with the IVF thing.  We have 3 frozen embies, but so far, it's hard to trust in that.  We did one FET (frozen embryo transfer) with IVF #1, but it didn't work out.  Since I have DOR (diminished ovarian reserve), I know I'm at a higher risk of miscarriage and of poor egg quality.  So far my RE (reproductive endocrinologist, whom I'll call Dr. Kind) hasn't mentioned these things to me.  He's much too - kind.  Yes, that's right.  I'm lucky like that.  He is immensely talented as well, but keenly aware of what it feels like to lose your dreams.

I'm very fortunate to have my medical team.  Even if we never make it to our ultimate dream of having our own biological child, I know God has blessed me with the best nurses and RE ever. They are friends - as close to me as my family - and I know God has used them in my life.  I cannot forget that.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I'm 35 Today

True, something I'm not... is a mother (to a living child).

But, I am 35 today.

It's been one of those sit-around-in-your-pj's-all-day-and-watch-your-hubby-play-old-video-games-on-his-Playstation 2 kind of days.  I just didn't feel like getting it all together and going out to eat.  Hey, we can celebrate my birthday ANY day we want, ya know?  So, just not today...

I found myself warmed by the birthday wishes of my friends this year like no other.  Maybe it's because I've tried to be more open with my friends, and somehow, they feel like they know me better now.  More likely, it's because I'm lucky.  I've found the friends I was born to have. Sounds corny, but when you've been lonely for a lot of your life, it's a blessing.

So why have I been lonely, you ask?  Many reasons: myself, my ways of relating to people or lack thereof, my fears.  And I'm still quiet in a group of people I don't know, still shy, but now - I know that's not the end of the world.  I've grown to accept myself.  And that is a journey I'm still on.  Infertility keeps you on that road.