Cycle Day One

The weather today seems fitting to my mood.  The parking lot of my apartment complex is gray from the overcast cloud cover.  I can hear the trickling of water from a gutter fall onto leaves and puddles.  Tropical  storm Lee couldn't have come at a better (or worse) time.  My thoughts are slow and mindful as I try to avoid thinking about what this point in our journey means.  Yet, just like it's hard to look away from a car crash happening, it's hard to avoid realizing that today we are three months away from being labeled infertile.  That's 90 days.  Three ovulations left 'til we see the doctor and ask why we aren't pregnant yet.

It wouldn't all be so bad without the constant reminders from family and friends.  Last week I found out my sister in law is expecting their second.  They hadn't even been trying a full month yet.  Friends with newborns post "I love my baby!" as if it isn't obvious already.

It's moments like these when I feel so alone in the world, like nobody knows how I feel.  Longing for a child is a unique wish.  Those with children don't understand you, or have forgotten what it is like to ache for a joyful little one.  The ones that do not want children think you are crazy for ever wanting one.  Family members asking when the next grandchild is going to come along don't understand how hard you have been trying.  Those that are trying desperately for a child are a world away because we are far outnumbered by those with children.  

Infertility hurts, probably more deeply than most even know.  Explained or unexplained, there are millions of people suffering from it.  I am too close to it.

I will not give up hope for a miracle.