Infertility is a mean disease.
And it is a disease. One that steals your hopes and dreams just as much as it robs your body of it's ability to create and sustain life.
It's not always talked about.
It's not always understood.
But it is a disease.
And I have it.
I got bad news from the doctor today. No, I'm not dying. And no, it's not cancer or any other additional disease. And no, I do not have to have any surgeries or have anything removed or anything like that. And other than that, I'm not sharing specifics right now.
But it's enough to say that the hope that I had been feeling lately is gone. And I'm not sure if it's ever coming back.
I spent lots of time today crying, and yelling at God, and crying, and being snarky to people who love me, and crying, and crying, and crying.
I think I'm all cried out.
I'm still sad.
Still not feeling hopeful.
And even a little angry and snarky still.
But God speaks through hugs from my son.
And listening ears.
And songs on the radio.
And yellow roses from my husband.
And maybe... just maybe... He really is right here with me.
Even in this.