Today, as I was sitting in my doctor’s office having a routine blood draw, another couple walked into the room. I saw the look on their faces and I knew it. The fear. The reality sinking in. The unknown. The worry. The stress. The tiny glimmer of hope, but not too much because nothing else has worked in the past. I knew it because we had been there, in those same shoes, with the same worries, stresses, heartaches, and cautious hopes. As soon as I saw the looks on their faces, there was so much I wanted to say to help them. But as it goes, we were like cars passing one another on the freeway. (I was going to make a “like ships in the night” reference, but then I realized that I’ve never really experienced that) Both headed in our own direction, but ultimately with the same goal: bringing home a baby. This letter is to them. This letter is to you.
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Hey Friends,
I want you to know how proud I am of you. Whether this is your first visit, first round of treatments, first blood draw for answers— I’m proud of you. You’re showing a huge amount of faith, hope, trust, courage, strength and humility right now by asking for help and taking the necessary steps to bring home your baby— even if it means doing really scary or uncomfortable things. You’re stepping into a new world of unknown things that will soon become routine (cough “routine blood draw” cough) and strangely enough, kind of normal. And for that, I applaud you with a standing ovation. I don’t know how long it took for you to call and make that appointment, but the fact that you did that means something.
It means that you’re facing your reality instead of pretending it isn’t happening to you.
It means you’ve recognized that something isn’t right and you’re advocating for yourself.
It means you want to find answers even if the answers aren’t ideal.
It means you’re making plans and efforts to change your situation.
Those aren’t small things. Those are big steps to getting closer to bringing home your babies— in whatever way they may come.
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Unfortunately, infertility treatments aren’t 100% effective all the time, every time. They don’t guarantee that your journey ends here. It may take multiple months, even more years of trying. It may require different procedures, protocols, medications and even clinics. But you can do it. The medications have side effects, sure, but it’s not anything you can’t handle. You are stronger than you realize. You can do this.
I want you to remember that you are brave. That you are strong and that it’s okay to dream and have hope during this time. I remember what it feels like to lose hope. I remember when reality wasn’t ideal but dreaming was too painful. Friend, you’ll get through those moments. And in between those moments, life is still beautiful.
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I hope you know you’re not alone. There is an incredible community of couples enduring infertility together. We’re here for you to ask questions, to cry with and to cheer each other on.
As you navigate this journey, I want you to know that it’s okay to open up about your journey, but it’s also okay to keep things private. You can do both. And the most important part: you get to decide what you do and do not share with others. There are incredible resources available for you to write out your journey, your experiences and your emotions. These resources were created specifically for you.
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I hope that as you walk into your next appointment, you know that you have a friend cheering you on. I’m hoping for you, sending you all of the good vibes & sending you all of the baby dust I can muster! You’ve got this, friends!
xoxo,
Sadie
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