I started this blog over a year ago with the intent of documenting a fertility journey. My husband and I had just gotten married and decided to try and start a family. The only thing stopping us had been his irreversible vasectomy and my possible infertility from endometriosis. However with innovations in modern science, we still had a chance at conception.
But as life happens and I get older the only thing I can say is that God has forgotten us.
I pray in tears until my face is red and the heavens are nothing but passing clouds in the sky.
The truth is we can’t afford IVF, we can’t afford adoption, we are unable to care for foster children. Every door I turn to closes in my face. I pray for my husband to have “leaky pipes” in a joking tone while seriously hoping for an absolute miracle.
Digging up the $40k that we need wouldn’t be the hardest thing, if…
If life emergencies could stop happening for just one moment enough to give us some breathing room.
Some people say that if God brings you to a certain point, He will get you through the rest. I feel more like the kid that got dropped off at the bus station with a tiny suitcase and $5.00. Abandoned.
There are women out there keeping faith in God, even after experiencing miscarriages in succession. I don’t even know what it is like to see a positive pregnancy test.
I am in mourning.
And so, I’ve done the one thing a childless and aging woman can do. I’ve gone back into the career field full-time into the field I hold an education in and have an interest in, only to be working under a newly-pregnant manager.
My heart hurts, physically hurts and all I feel is myself growing bitter, tired, and more depressed.
I do ask God for one thing though, that I die sometime around middle-age before I get old enough to realize my inability to do the one thing my heart wanted most. Before I realize how empty my house is without the echo of grandchildren.
My body feels empty, as if there was something there, or the thought of something there that is now missing.
And there is one thing we are almost able to afford, a hysterectomy. I am no longer to bear the pain and distraction that these useless, empty body parts put me through on a regular basis. They are now nothing but the bane of my existence, distracting me from having an energetic day at work and adding to my retirement plan in case God also decides to ignore my pleas to let me die before 60.
Because sometimes, He forgets.