Infertility.

Infertility. 

Not a word anyone is ever happy to hear. But according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, around 10% of women of childbearing age (6.1 million) in the United States have difficulty getting and staying pregnant. There are many causes, many ways that our delicately-designed bodies can malfunction and simply not work the way they are supposed to. And most of the time, there is no one to blame. And too often, women struggling with infertility blame themselves.

This is my infertility story. It is also the story of my journey from self-loathing to self-acceptance. The story of my struggle (and success) to find something to be thankful for in the midst of the all-consuming bad that infertility can be.

I never -- absolutely NEVER -- had a regular female cycle. I struggled with irregularity, menstrual cramps so strong they left me lying in bed sobbing, and hormones that caused my body to do all kinds of crazy things -- like grow facial hair and gain weight that was almost impossible to lose. I was an adult when I was finally diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), and suddenly everything began to make sense. My body was never going to be normal. There was nothing I did to cause it, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. At the time I received this diagnosis, I was young and unmarried. I knew that it would affect my ability to successfully get pregnant and carry a child, but I wasn't ready for that responsibility anyway. So I took some birth control pills to help regulate the symptoms of my disease, and my life felt better for a while.

Fast-forward a few years, and I meet my wonderful husband. Being 29 when we got married and knowing that my body would make it difficult to conceive, we wanted to start trying to have a family right away.

This is where my self-hate begins.

We went to a fertility clinic seeking help, and they of course had to test both of us. If they had been giving real grades, my husband would have not only made a 100% A+, he would have gotten all of the bonus points as well. And I would have gotten an F for effort. I had all the parts, but literally NONE of them worked right! My ovaries didn't consistently produce eggs and were full of cysts and my uterus was inverted.  I felt like the worst excuse for a woman and wife in the world.

But that's why we came to the fertility clinic, right??  They're going to help me overcome these crazy issues, and we're going to leave here with a happy little family. Because doctors are miracle workers, right?

Well, you can probably guess that isn't the case. We actually found out that the way my body was built, ZERO of my husband's very plentiful and very active sperm were making it to my uterus. So we tried artificial insemination -- three very painful (physically and emotionally) times. With no success. The hormone shots that I had to give myself -- in the stomach! -- made me a crazy mess. I would lay in bed at night sobbing uncontrollably, hating myself for my body not working -- hating myself even more for putting my husband through it all, hating myself for not being strong enough to keep the hate inside so he didn't have to deal with that on top of knowing that I couldn't give him the child I knew he wanted as badly as I did.

And then came the news no one wants to hear -- the only chance we had to get pregnant was in vitro fertilization -- and given the issues with my insides, there was certainly no guarantee it would work. Also, it would cost us $17,000 each time we wanted to try. At that point, we had to make the decision to walk away. And I was left with no hope. No chance of ever carrying a baby in my tummy and feeling it kick. No waking my husband up in the middle of the night because I have a craving for the proverbial pickles and ice cream and I have to have them NOW!! No swapping pregnancy stories with my family and friends who were all having happy, healthy babies while I was dying inside. And not getting to share in their joy, because they're walking on eggshells around me, afraid that their joy will only cause me pain.

Infertility is a dark and lonely road. So what, oh what can you find to be thankful for when something you have wanted your entire life -- since you were a toddler being given dolls and cradles to play with, being taught that this is what females are supposed to aspire to, that it is the ultimate goal of a woman -- to become a mother -- is just gone?

To be honest, for years and years the answer was ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I have been the mother of an amazing daughter for almost 11 years now. But our adoption journey is a story for another post -- and a MUCH easier story in which to find the good. But I can honestly tell you, I was a mother for a few years before I could find anything at all to be thankful for in my infertility.

As I have gotten older and wiser -- ha! -- okay, as I have actively sought to focus on the good, I have found it. I am thankful for the closeness my husband and I were able to gain in grieving together for our loss. Little did we know this would only be the first of many hurdles in our marriage. And I truly believe that making it through this early struggle together helped us to stay together through the many, many bad things to come. I am thankful for learning that my worth does not lie in my body's ability to live up to traditional, conventional expectations. I am thankful for the extra few years I had to work and have a career before I needed to stay home and help my child weather the first 10 years of her life as a person with special-needs. I am thankful for learning enough about my body to not be scared to death when I was told, "You have uterine cancer," but to be able to say, "Okay, this thing has never worked right anyway -- let's get rid of it, deal with whatever comes along with this diagnosis, and keep looking ahead." And most of all, I am thankful for the opportunity to be a mother to my daughter. She is funny, kind-hearted, and one of the smartest people I know. She is a tween with a tween attitude -- and I'll soon be searching to find something to be thankful for in that! But without my infertility, not only would I not be her mother, I would very likely not even know her at all. And that would be the biggest tragedy of my life.

If you struggle with the self-hate that can come with infertility, there is help. Please do not be afraid to ask your doctor for a referral to a counselor. I know it would have helped me, and I wish I had had someone to encourage me (and my husband) to seek out someone to help us deal with all of the emotions that we were definitely not equipped to handle.  Here is a link to an article I found interesting and helpful: https://www.verywellfamily.com/reasons-to-see-an-infertility-counselor-1959981. I have no affiliation with the writers of this article.