Waiting.

I wish I could wax poetic about overcoming the challenging seasons of life, but the truth is, Skyler and I are still smack dab in the middle of our most challenging season. And honestly? I can’t even begin to envision what it will be like when we emerge on the other side.

I’ve also started and stopped writing this about a hundred times because I’m not sure of my reasoning behind writing it in the first place . It’s not that I think I owe anyone an explanation. Maybe it’s because the question “When are you going to have kids?” makes my heart break a little bit each time. Maybe it’s because this journey we’re on is really, really lonely, and maybe because there are other women that I know who might be going through something similar. And if they’re lonely like I have felt lonely, maybe explaining this season of our lives can do even the smallest amount of good or provide the smallest amount of comfort. Also, maybe it’s just because I feel like I’ve been carrying so much weight, and I need to let some of it go. But it is not, absolutely not, because I am looking for pity or more advice.

Skyler and I joked before our wedding that we wanted kids “9 months to the day.” We always knew we wanted a family, and we wanted it as soon as we could have it. But here we are, 29 months since we said “I do,” and home is filled with so much love and laughter and three furry pets – but we still have a bunch of empty bedrooms upstairs.

Over the past two and a half years, Skyler and I have been trying to grow our family, but despite the super helpful advice of others we’ve received, no amount of “just relax”-ing or pomegranate juice will help me get pregnant. As it turns out, I only have one open and functioning Fallopian tube, and so in even in a completely perfect world, our chances are reduced by 50%. Then, layer on PCOS and irregularities and hormonal imbalances, and those chances each month? They’re in the toilet. Months of drugs of varying names and strengths have yet to work their magic within my uterus. As we stare down our future of IVF, I’m tired. I’m tired and we’re not even to the hard part yet. The part with needles and bruising and dozens of appointments and a whole new slew of acronyms and terms (because BD, BFN, BFP, AF, 2WW, BBT, CD, DPO, etc. weren’t enough) and the 5-figure bills.

And so, as I finally begin to accept that this is the season of life that we’re facing, I guess I just ask for grace and understanding. Grace for the moments when I’m hurting (because there are a lot of them) and when I’m afraid, and understanding of the path that we’re on. Someday, we will bring home our own little bundle of joy, and it will be beyond our wildest dreams. But for now, we wait. We cry every now and then, and we fight for the future we hope to have, and we hope, and we wait.

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