Hi my name is Rachel

Some days I feel sad. Some days I feel confused. Some days I feel pissed. Some days I feel content.

Today I feel identified.

During the infertility process, it becomes VERY easy to immerse yourself in the process. You are fully consumed in the day to day, watching what you eat, the medication timings, the doctor appointments, taking notes during phone calls and meetings. It's a difficult journey, for sure, and if you aren't careful, you can lose yourself.

A lot of people go through identity crises. Who am I? What's my purpose? Et cetera. For people struggling with infertility, it feels like such a big and important part of your life, you begin to identify yourself with it. You hear "how are yous" and feel compelled to answer honestly about your heavy heart. Discussions regarding money inspire desires to tell people about how much infertility costs and how much they just don't know. Any conversation or situation can be spun to be analyzed through a infertile lens.

I'm tired of doing that to myself.

If there's anything I've learned in the past few weeks, it's that I'm a lot of things.



I'm a good teacher.

I love to dance.

I have a good sense of humor (or at least an 8th grade level humor).

I'm creative.

I'm a big baseball fan.

I'm a good baker.

I love to read.




I want to stop seeing life through this limited scope of infertility. No matter how that particular journey turns out, I will have SO many other journeys. Not one journey defines me.

I'm not infertile. I'm Rachel. THAT'S who I am. I need to start acting like it.

Sad, but not sad sad. You know?

Have you ever heard the phrase "when it rains it pours"?

That's my infertility in a nut shell.

Now this could be referring to many different parts of the infertility journey. But today? It's pouring pregnant people.

This is a pretty typical thing for infertile people though.  I'd hazard to say it's the same for single people who long to be married. When you don't have it, you see it EVERYWHERE.

I remember when I was single after college. I hung around with a group of single people at my church. We went out, hung out in various homes, watched movies. Heck, we even ended up spending an entire week together in the summer because of back to back to back plans. But a few months in, things started to change. There would be spurts of people getting together. Then getting engaged. It seemed like an epidemic. I couldn't believe my eyes, to be honest. It seemed like my church was a real life match.com.

It's the same when you don't have kids. Every once in awhile there is a spurt of finding out people are pregnant. Old friends from high school, coworkers, old coworkers, ex-friends, old acquaintances that you haven't thought about in years but are suddenly thrust into your line of sight when you find out they're expecting. I think the most pregnancies I found out about in one day was four. FOUR.

It's not fun.  Not their fault, but it's not fun either.

Thankfully, it makes me sad, but not sad sad. You know?

It's a bummer that I probably won't experience what most women do.
It's a bummer that I probably won't get a shower thrown for me.
It's a bummer that I probably won't get to pick out baby names.
It's a bummer that I probably won't ever hear someone call me "Mom."

Yes. It's sad. But not tears sad.  Not anymore.

I know that sounds crazy. Because all those things I listed (and didn't list for the sake of keeping my word count down) all seem excruciating. They seem unbearable. They seem depressing.

They are, but I've learned how to file the sadness. I've learned how to recognize and dampen the pain. It may sound bad, but I mean it as a positive thing. I don't feel the hopelessness anymore as pain. I feel it as just what it is - realistic about my circumstances.

In other words: I feel acceptance.

The 5 Stages of Grief

Grief. It's what most infertile couples struggle with. They grieve the child they conceived and lost. They grieve the children they don't conceive each month. It's a very sad process for couples to go through.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about my feelings changing and finding peace. That hasn't changed. In fact, it hit me that the process I've gone through is quite normal. And has a name. The five stages of grief.

Stage 1: Denial. For about the two years, I was convinced it would happen for us. Even though time and statistics were against us, I had optimism coming out my eyeballs. Or rather, denial. I refused to believe we would be one of those couples who never had kids. We always wanted them! Why would God allow us to want something to special and precious only to never give us that joy? Ridiculous.  The Truth: God doesn't work like this. He does what is best for his flock and bringing glory to HIS name.

Stage 2: Anger. Throughout the process, anger is a normal emotion. Why us? Why of all the couples in the whole wide world, were we picked to endure countless ultrasounds, bloodwork, and thousands of dollars worth of bills? We tried to be good Christians. We didn't hurt anyone. We go to church. We think we'd make good parents. Why would God do this to us?! This stage I think is ongoing and cyclical. It's difficult to not let the anger take over because it is so self-centered. The Truth: Anger is ok as long as it subsides and you bring it before the Lord. Holding this in and allowing it to take root is toxic. God isn't doing this to us. He's doing it for us.

Stage 3: Bargaining. Infertile couples are often so hopeless that they feel like they will do anything to get children. Even if it means bargaining with God. I can recall many tearful prayers that involved words similar to "God, what do you want me to do?? Whatever it is, just show me and I'll do it!"  The Truth: This is dangerously close to testing God and that's just wrong. God wants us to be willing to do anything for him, but not just because we want something from him.

Stage 4: Depression. This is almost a state of being for infertile couples. For a long stretch of time, I was more often than not depressed. It might not have been overt or even clinical, but it was always there lurking beneath the surface. "What's the point in going on with these treatments?? We'll never have kids. Obviously, we aren't meant to be parents so just forget it."  The Truth: I know depression is tough and it is imperative we rest upon the arms of Jesus. It's so easy to drown in the hopeless thoughts, but even finding 5 minutes of joy in your Savior can save you days of self-inflicted torture in depression.

Stage 5: Acceptance. This is the stage I reached about a month ago. I'm not sad, mad, or anything really. The best word for it is resigned. I know that my fate is in my Lord's hands and I've seen that life continues with or without the things we ask for. We are here on this Earth temporarily and they will eventually fall away. It's time to start living the life I've been given instead mourning the one I may never get. The Truth: It's much easier to let the sadness and anger take over. It's self-centered and what sin created us to be when we're born. The Holy Spirit grants us peace. We need only to ask for it and be brave enough to grab it.