Like most girls, I dreamt of a big wedding and a house full of little feet and laughter. My dream came true, in part, and in 2013, I married my best friend. Since then, my husband and I have struggled to have a baby.
The doctor said I had a partially blocked tube and my eggs were weak. After five years of trying conventional and unconventional fertility treatments, I have reached the decision that I am not going to try any more.
Deciding to stop treatments is probably the most difficult decision I have ever had to make, especially since my husband did not think it was wise to stop. He said that maybe we were close and we needed to hold on a little longer. But I can’t try a little longer; I can’t try a little harder. I wanted to stop. I had to stop. I felt like a loser. I felt as if I was giving up. I felt I was a failure.
I’ve received judgment from well-meaning friends who simply do not understand why I would stop trying for a baby. I decided to stop because I was drained. I stopped trying because I no longer had the strength to try. I was physically exhausted from the doctor’s visits, the tests, from charting my days on the calendar. I was just so tired.
I was tired of needles and things that were constantly being poked into my body. I was tired of the constant alarm on my phone reminding me to take some pill. I was tired of shoving one or other recommended concoction down my throat. I was exhausted.
I made the decision to stop because, for me, infertility was a circus of emotions. Each circle began the same – with hope and excitement – then I would slowly descend to despair and dejection once I noticed the bright red dots on my panties in the morning.
Every single month my heart would break. Every time my period came I would sit by the bathroom seat and weep. I would mourn for the child who refused to come. I could hardly recognize myself as I turned into this bitter and insecure woman.
When I saw pregnant women or these cute little babies it was a jab in my heart. I wondered often how I could have so much difficulty having what seems to come naturally to other women.
I decided to stop because trying to have a child made me question my faith as a Christian. My prayers have more often than not been punctuated by the question: “Why God?” I have asked many times why I have not been able to conceive. Am I not good enough to be a mother? I have prayed and fasted. In my frustration, I have bargained with God. I have petitioned, and I have begged. Yet, I have not received the one answer I desperately yearn for.
So, I stopped trying for a child. I was too broken to continue. I haven’t given up. I am not faithless. I stopped trying to conceive because I needed a break. I needed time to take care of myself. I needed to pay attention to my soul and my heart. I needed time to find myself and God again. Maybe one day I will have the courage to try again.
