Infertility : The pain no one talks about

Infertility has become something that is being talked about a little more each year. Women are starting to share their stories of heart break and loss on social media. Books are being written. And for that, I am grateful.  My battle with infertility began on my 26th birthday. That’s when we decided to try for our first child. Little did we know we had 3 years of “unexplained” infertility ahead of us before I would see a positive pregnancy test. I wasn’t prepared for infertility. How can you really ever be? It’s one of those things where you never know when or if there will be an end to the tunnel.


When I started this blog I wanted to continue to share my story and create a place for other women to share theirs. I wanted women to know they’re not alone in their pain or loss. I wanted to share my path, in hopes that we can hold hands together as you wait for your miracle or cry through your loss.

I am grateful for things like infertility awareness week. However if you’re ever experienced this pain — you know it doesn’t last one week. It’s 365. Even though we did end up with our miracle baby, infertility will always be a part of my story and a part of my son’s story. It shaped me.

About a year and a half ago, I wrote a blog post regarding something that happened about 2 years into our journey with infertility. I wanted to share it today. I hope it blesses you — share it with those who you know that are walking through this trial. I pray it allows someone to feel less lonely in their time of need.

Please share your stories below in the comments! Or send links to your blogs. I would love to read.

Originally posted Feb 5, 2016.

When time stops, and starts again.

January 13, 2014. 12 p.m.

That’s the moment I went to work. Planning.

I had just finished discussing with my husband the details of us trying to get pregnant. The timing , logistics, and finances of it all. It was all so exciting.

Finally. It was here.

We agreed we were in a place where we thought we could begin. Even though we were living as ministry workers in a country far away from home. We had the budget. Medical care was inexpensive in Mexico. All  I had to do was find the doctors, price all the medical costs out, present them in an excel sheet, and then we would finalize our plans.

So, I named the document what any excited mother to be would: BabyCarpenter. (Our last name is Carpenter.)

A baby that was ours. Finally.

I had been babysitting other people’s children my whole life. Though I loved it, I was ready to wear the badge of “Mommy” and not “Miss Kelly,” anymore. I was ready to see my husband’s resemblance in their faces or to have people say, “oh she looks just like you!,” while saying how cute she was simultaneously.

It was my turn. Finally.


February 5, 2016. 9:11 p.m.

There is no baby.

A little over two years has passed, and we have been unable to conceive. It’s been a long road of ups and downs. Not knowing where to go or what to do next. Realizing that we can’t sit down and make a plan for our lives, and expect everything to just fall into place as we naively desire it to.

I sat down this evening to plan again. To make another excel sheet, except this one a bit more mundane. I wanted to create a sheet of our current expenses so that we can figure out what we’ll be able to dole out onto our student loans to finally get them all paid off.

It was while I was searching for our expense sheet that I stumbled upon the BabyCarpenter file that I had long forgotten about. It kind of stopped me in my tracks, and I felt compelled to write. It’s in these moments that one has to put pen to paper, or get our hands to a keyboard to let out the thoughts racing around in our heads. At least, I hope I’m not alone in that. God gave us language to communicate after all right?

It’s weird to have a moment of hope time stamped so specifically. To sit down and think about what I was feeling in that moment when I typed in the name of the excel doc. I can picture myself smiling as I hit enter and jumped into the next exciting chapter of our lives. Anticipation, acceleration, joy, all flooding in at once.

Seeing those words again. “BabyCarpenter.” —

Except this time the emotions flooding in are a mixture of deep sadness, confusion, frustration, and fear. Should I delete it? I just wanted to throw it away and drown myself in maybe yet another hour of netflix in that moment. It’s like running into an ex at the grocery store when you’re in your pajamas. There’s this sudden urge to duck behind an old woman in the frozen foods’ section. A not so subtle desperation to escape the situation.

But where can I escape to?

God? Tv? Bed? A Bowl of Ice Cream?

Well, with God it helps. For a time. He comforts me until the tears arrive again.

Tv? It helps me forget.

Ice Cream? Gone too quickly.

Bed? I just end back up on netflix or crying or both.

And the hamster wheel of life begins again with the next day, and the next.

I don’t really have a thesis or a moral of the story to this posting. This is just a girl, hiding from her sadness, escaping from her excel documents, and getting out her thoughts. About how life is hard. It’s painful. It’s bloody. It’s sometimes not enjoyable to live. It disappoints us, confuses us, brings us to our knees in a quiet desperation. It takes the breath right out from my lungs sometimes.

But then again. There are those other moments too that we all can’t ignore that make life worth living. First dates. First kisses. Having a newborn grab your finger for the first time.  Meeting a friend you instantly connect with. Laughing so hard that you cry. Eating new exotic foods. Traveling to new places and that feeling you get when you’re soaking in a brand new place for the first time. The sounds, the smells, the tastes, the people and the architecture.

Life is full of the ugly, the difficult, and the down right terrible moments that make up the human experience.

But we can’t live for those.

We have to live for the rest.

This one goes out to…

I’ve written different blogs over the years and I’ve enjoyed it. I like taking my thoughts and putting them to virtual paper. It’s brought me comfort, allowed me to process, and welcomed me to a comfortable home of sorts.

I stopped writing.

I don’t really know why, even now.

I do know that I have been missing it. There was that itch again that I needed to scratch. Life has been tossing me around a bit, and I’ve been on a lifeboat waiting to hit dry land. I need this blog to be something I write for me.

And for you.

Because this isn’t something I am going to publicize or tell my friends about. I have rid my life of social media. This is going to be a place where I send my thoughts and discoveries about this season of life in hopes that it brings me peace , life, and maybe even  some joy.

As for you? I hope that this meets someone(s) else who is/are out there working through their own rocky road of wandering. Trying to hold onto that lifeboat and not get too beat up in the process. Clinging to anything that feels familiar, safe, joy filled, or like home.

Maybe it’s because this is a new year, and I’m being reminded of all I’ve been through the past couple years. Maybe it’s because I have no clue where my life is heading, or maybe it is a combination of both. But life is continuing to throw me for loops that I never guessed or imagined would come my way.

This blog is about the in between. The unexpected. The uninvited. The never wanted. The wandering. The desert. The gaps. The twists and turns. The beautiful. The new. The never changing, never ending, transition that is what we call life. I’m jumping back in.

Hope my wandering runs into yours and something wonderful comes of it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s