What 3 Years of Infertility Feels Like

If you read my last post about IVF — or you’ve been paying close attention on Instagram — you know Brandon and I have struggled with infertility for the past three years.

After I spelled out the timeline and all the details, I promised I would follow up with a look at the emotional/spiritual side of things — a peek into what infertility has felt like, both before and during our fertility treatment.

This is not the same for everyone going through infertility. This is simply our experience — or I should say my experience, as Brandon has had his own journey.

But as I type this very much “in the midst of it,” I’m remembering all the emotions I’ve felt and experiences I’ve had throughout this three-year-long rollercoaster ride that doesn’t seem to end.

Infertility Feels Like…

Spending $15 on yet another pack of pregnancy tests, only to know deep down it will be a waste of money and a trip to Target.

Getting ads on Instagram for pregnancy and baby products, based on your recent searches.

Using due date calculators to determine when the baby would be born if you got pregnant this month…or maybe the next month. Or the following month.

Googling every little symptom, wondering if it’s a sign of pregnancy or just something weird you ate for lunch.

Seeing pregnancy announcements on Instagram and Facebook every single day, from people who were either “not trying” or mention something about it being a surprise.

Feeling left behind, when those your age or in a similar life stage “pass you up,” having their first, second or even third child, without any effort or waiting.

Going to baby showers, ordering the items you’ve had your eye on…for someone else’s baby.

Taking a meal to (or buying a Doordash gift card for) the family at church with a newborn.

Seeing all the families walk to “kids class” during the third song at church every week, or sitting through another baby dedication.

Going through another holiday season, setting aside the plans you had to make an announcement with fall or Christmas decor.

Celebrating Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, trying your best to honor your own parents, while feeling a deep sense of grief the entire day.

Not wanting to “put your life on hold” to focus on fertility, while it is the only thing you can focus on.

Seeing the baby who was born when you miscarried become a big sister or brother.

Accidentally opening the third drawer down, packed to the brim with thrifted baby clothes and accessories you’ve collected over the years.

Tolerating insensitive questions (“Why don’t you just adopt?”) or unsolicited advice (“My friend tried ________ and got pregnant right away”).

Wondering why some people get to build their families “for free,” when you’ve spent an Ivy League college tuition on treatment without any success.

Feeling like a broken record when asking for prayers, when you feel fatigued in your own prayer life.

Limping around the neighborhood due to hip injections for a transfer that may or may not work.

Postponing testing so you can at least control when you will have a super depressing day — and instead wanting to live in ignorant bliss with the possibility of pregnancy.

Becoming friends with the fertility clinic staff, when you wish you never had to meet them in the first place.

Trying to eat the right thing to optimize fertility — but also enjoy life and eat a damn cookie every once in a while.

Trying to avoid stress as much as possible, while undergoing one of the most stressful experiences one can go through.

Trying to stay positive with embarrassing “affirmations” on Spotify, while also wanting to protect yourself from the possibility of failure, yet again.

Listening to every single podcast on the topics of infertility, IVF, PCOS, etc. — in an effort to gain as much knowledge as possible, but you just end up burdened with other people’s traumatic experiences and strong opinions.

Looking at every upcoming vacation with two distinct possibilities: I’ll either be pregnant and sick or not pregnant and sad — so what’s the point in getting excited?

Turning 30, then 31…when you always told yourself you’d be done having kids by that age.

Hearing success stories of couples who tried for 12 years and finally had a baby, when you realize you’d be 40+ if you had to wait that long.

Trying every natural trick in the book — acupuncture, beef liver supplements, meditation, etc. — while also flooding your body with the cocktail of prescribed hormonal medications.

Avoiding seeking therapy or a support group because “I’ll get pregnant this month, so there’s no need to bring a stranger into this mess.”

Going from being needle averse to stabbing yourself in the stomach without a second thought.

Having some of your closest friends announce a pregnancy — and being so thrilled for them…while also wondering how far apart in age they’ll be from your baby.

Going to your niece’s wedding and wondering if your parents will be alive to see your kids get married — or even go to college.

Answering “what’s new with you guys?” when there’s absolutely nothing new — but also so many things that feel too heavy to bring up at a backyard pool party.

And Yet, Infertility Also Feels Like…

Feeling like you can now go through anything that life brings your way.

Building up an immense amount of resilience, perseverance and strength.

Knowing you will love and appreciate your kids that much more, after such a struggle.

Growing closer to your partner, who provides stability when you feel out of control.

Savoring the days where it’s just the two of you and you can spontaneously go out to eat if you feel like it.

Having an immense sense of gratitude for those working in the fertility space and the medical advances we’ve had in recent decades.

Increasing your trust in God and his timing.

Acknowledging you serve the God of Hannah and Elizabeth — and all those waiting before and after them.

Realizing the fact that any of us exist is an absolute miracle.

Feeling supported and loved by your friends and family who have walked through the ups and downs alongside you.

Empathizing with others who have gone through infertility or are currently going through it.

Knowing you’re not alone.

…And you aren’t either. If any of these things resonated with you and your experience with infertility, let me know. I’d love to walk through this with you as best as I can, because I know that has helped me tremendously. I have several people I texted regularly with questions, prayer requests, etc. who have graciously showed up exactly how I needed them to.

And if someone you know is going through infertility, I’m hoping this provides just a glimpse into what it can feel like.

I’m also hoping this is just a three-year chapter in our story, but for now — it’s front and center and many of these emotions are still raw and unresolved. This blog will now return to talk of minimalism and simple living, but I just couldn’t ignore this major part of my story any longer. Thank you for reading all my ramblings and unfiltered thoughts.

I’ll leave you with this quote a friend of mine sent me the other day that brought me so much comfort and peace — hopefully, it will do the same for you, no matter what you’ve been asking God for.

“God will either give us what we ask for in prayer or give us what we would have asked for if we knew everything he knows.”

— Tim Keller