This week is Infertility Awareness Week and the motto is “You are not alone.” They are only four words, but they can be so powerful if we let ourselves hear them. For those of us who have walked this path or are currently in the midst of their infertility journey, one of the biggest emotions is isolation. With infertility there are very high positive emotions like hope and love, and then there are very dark emotions like anger and disappointment. And while working their way through the sea of OPK’s, doctors’ appointments and negative tests, most women feel alone.

I felt alone.

When I was on my journey to motherhood, I truly felt like there was not another person on this earth who could possibly be feeling my pain or experiencing the same heartbreak and disappointment. I even had trouble relating to my husband, who was right by my side the whole way. All I could think was, “But he doesn’t understand how I feel. He is not the one with an empty womb and bum ovaries that won’t work.” My mother would try to tell me that it would happen some day, and I would cry and tell her she didn’t know that for sure.

I shared my journey 2 years ago during Infertility Awareness Week because I felt like putting our story out there could be helpful to someone else; maybe someone would read it and relate and feel a little less alone. This year I wanted to add to my story. It has been more than 7 years since I have felt the raw emotions of infertility. It has been 7 years since I felt that complete isolation. I hoped and prayed for the next chapter of my life to begin, to be a mother. I thought that when I became a mother, when I had a baby in my arms, all the pain would go away.

I was foolish to think that. It’s true — I am not sad about not having a family. I am not worried about ever being a mom. But the memories remain. I remember the sadness. I remember being filled with hope just to learn that there was no baby growing in my belly. Really what the last few years has taught me is that infertility changed who I was forever. It is my story. Every story has its crisis moments. The instant where you think, “Wait a minute is the bad guy actually going to win in this one?” Infertility was my crisis moment; that time when I didn’t know if there would be a happy ending; that time when everything seemed to be falling apart. I felt like I was fighting my bad guy all by myself.

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I think in the same way that any struggle changes us, infertility will stay with me forever. Life is messy. It is a roller coaster. Each up and down, twist and curve is all a part of the ride. Looking back at those 3 years I can say it was a short time in my life. There is so much joy in my life now, but I can recall those moments in my past and they are still a deep part of who I am.

During my first pregnancy I felt like I was haunted by these memories. I was nervous. I was worried about the health of my twins. I felt like I couldn’t complain about anything for fear that people would think I was ungrateful. I had a hard time enjoying my pregnancy because of the fear that I felt during our struggle to get pregnant. I felt guilty that I wasn’t super happy and excited.

Sitting here at my computer writing about infertility now seems so strange. I have a wonderful family and beautiful children, but there is a part of my heart that has been marked permanently. I think everyone who has been there has that mark and if you look carefully, you can see it. It is in the nod of our heads as another woman shares her journey towards motherhood. It is in the small tear in the corner of our eyes that we try to hold back as another mother talks of her struggle. It is in the hugs that we give as we support each other through our journeys. We remember and we have been changed.

Now seven years out I can tell you that I am thankful for my story. My story lead me to my family, to my sons and to my daughter. It has also helped me to be a better person to my fellow mothers and moms to be. I have spoken to groups of women about our journey. I have shared how I came to peace with never being pregnant and moved on to adoption. I have cried with women who feared their dreams would never be reality. I have embraced my friends as they had another month of negative test results. I have told my friends who are struggling, you are not alone. I know your pain. I cannot take your pain away, but I know your struggle and I will walk beside you.

Infertility has changed me. I would not be the woman I am and the friend I have been if my story was different. For those of you struggling whether it is for your first or second or third, you are not alone.