Another month, another period | Infertility’s worst enemy.

Dear Diary,

Each day living with infertility is different. Each day I wake up either completely happy and content with life, or a bit disappointed. Let me preface this by saying I have a great life I know I do BUT something is missing. Something down deep inside aching to break free, aching to come to the forefront finally. That something is motherhood.

I woke up this morning greeted with an all too familiar “friend.” A friend that brings physical pain, but also the emotional and phycological pain. I don’t know if it’s the hormones running through my body that makes today extra hard or the fact that this is the seventh time I’ve felt this pain. The seventh time this pain should have been replaced with a growing stomach, growing boobs and my increasing uncomfortableness to complete daily tasks. However, that is not the case. While June is the exact month I’ll mourn the loss of my two other pregnancies, I think today, specifically, I morning the fact I am STILL NOT PREGNANT AGAIN.

At the beginning of the year, I made a promise to myself that I would not stress over getting pregnant. I would live my life; travel, drink, love. And I have done that and done that well. But that doesn’t change the fact that every time my little friend comes to visit I feel like a failure. A failure that can’t expand our family. Failure that I am unable to give my child a safe place to grow and develop. A failure of a woman. Everyone says “when you quit trying, that’s when it happens.” Well hey, guess what world, that’s BULLSHIT too.

While I know I have so many great things going on in my life: a healthy marriage, excellent work life, beautiful friends, acceptance into nursing school; I still can’t help but feel angry. Angry that I am still not pregnant again. It’s been almost a full year of “trying” with no success. I see others who cough and BAM their pregnant. In no way am I upset at that, but I am envious. I’m envious of the teenage girl that is in the bathroom crying because she doesn’t know how this happened. I’m envious of a family of one about to make it two, or three, or even four kids. I am envious of every pregnant person I walk past.

I know I’m not alone on this journey. Many others have these same feelings I do, deal with the same struggle. I’m not special. I’m just one who prefers to write them out rather than cry them out. I prefer to share rather than suffer alone. So today, when I woke up and was greeted with a period from hell, cramps that rival childbirth and emotions through the roof, I decided to complain. Vent. Bitch.

And man I am glad I did.