My Truth

I need to speak my truth. I've contemplated writing my thoughts in this way for a while, but I've been too far in the negative to feel like I have anything worthy of sharing with the public. This is where I say goodbye to those feelings.

My truth is infertility. My truth is sadness, hard work, pain, more sadness, lots more hard work, disappointment after disappointment, *glimmer of hope*....taken away and replaced with get the point. Also, just know right off the bat, when I use the words "hard work", I'm not referring to the hard work that's also fun. The infertility journey often takes you places you never wanted to go, including baby making without the only "fun" part of baby making.

**DISCLAIMER** I am so thankful. Thankful for MANY more things than I can and will write here, but I am thankful. I realize that my life is spectacular and full of opportunity and joy in many ways, but for now I need to speak about this part of my life. The part that has gone unspoken for so long.

I'm a visual person, and I think that many of my feelings manifest through images in my mind, scenes of various things if you will. One of the scenes I find that I picture often is myself in a deep, dark pit. So deep that no one can hear me, so dark that I can't see anything. No light at the top, no visible way out. This sad scene represents my feelings about my journey, and I want out of the pit. While it's deep and dark, it's not cold. It's burning hot, and I feel like I might burst (if you ask Cody, I do occasionally). This is why I'm writing. To be honest, it's not so much for you as it is for me, but it would be so worth it if someone else could feel that dark lonely burning feeling begin to fade as they find a soul with similar burdens. I also want the rest of you to know my story, and to hear it from me. That's impossible in today's world unless you use technology, you know? So here I am, writing a blog.
I know the nature of a blog is so dry, impersonal, general. But please, as you read, consider this a personal conversation I have with you. One where you see my sincerity, where you sense the sacredness of my raw thoughts and feelings, where if you speak of it later, you talk about it with kindness, for my sake, but also for the sake of those you may share it with who might struggle with this or with something else.

...So now that I've made this huge long intro, what's all the fuss about? If you don't know us at all, or don't know us well, Cody and I are a husband and wife from San Diego, California. Cody is beginning his fourth year of medical school and I am a part-time speech-language pathologist and a new business owner. If I had to summarize our relationship into a few words, I'd say he's the heart of the family and I'm the brain. But of course that's confusing because he's in medical school so he is obviously the brain, and I am the animal-lover with a wide range of emotions, many of which I experience on a daily basis so I could also be considered the heart...bad analogy I guess. To explain further, Cody has unlimited compassion, persistence, willingness, patience, personality. I am a realist, a deep thinker, a planner and organizer, I like when things are logical. We've been married for 6 years now, and you guessed it--no kids! Gasp! Shock! Wow-how do you guys live? Ok, you get it. We've tried, we really have. And we've tried everything! I won't tell our WHOLE story now, but to give you the reader's digest version: we have gone through 2 IUI's, 3 IVF cycles and 1 devastating miscarriage all within the time we've been in medical school...3 pretty miserable years preceded by 2 additional years of traditional "trying" and SPOILER ALERT we still don't have any children. I'll talk more about how things went down another time, but for the sake of explaining all this rambling...after our most recent IVF cycle failed I needed a break. Fertility treatments are so much more intense physically, mentally, emotionally than people give them credit for, especially when you do so many in a row. I was exhausted, I felt forgotten, rejected, punished and more, and it's taken a solid two months to even attempt to dig my way out of those feelings. You say "two months Sharee, give yourself a break it's only been two months" but I'm talking feeling those things day in and day out. All day every day. That's a lot--a lot of stewing, churning, contemplating, anger, self-pity, etc. It's exhausting and I don't want those feelings to hold on to me any more. But remember that pit?? I haven't been able to find a way out.  I think I've realized the only way to get out is to not feel so trapped in the first place. *Enter Blog* I need to tell my story so I can move forward. I go about each day, each facebook live video, each Sunday at church, each weekend with friends, each holiday with family like everything's peachy and you know what? It's not. It's been the worst time of my life, it's been daily anxiety, weekly tears, monthly sobbing fests, a long hard look at my faith and everything I believe in, and so on. So it's time to let it out and let it go. My hope is that by me being open, vulnerable, perhaps too descriptive or tangential at times, but at least honest--I can begin to heal, I can help someone else in their healing process, and/or I can give those who don't personally experience this a way to better understand it.

To you, who have known me but not known what's going on---That was on purpose. We have kept things very quiet because it hurts. I can't guarantee I will want to talk about all this when you randomly see me in the hallway at church, or when we cross paths at Target. But if you sincerely want to know more, I'd be happy to share in a private genuine conversation.

To you, the very few family members and friends who have known more details of our story as they have happened---Thank you for your love and concern, your prayers and fasting. We love you and hope you can find more of the story to help you understand why I'm sharing to the world after keeping things so private, even keeping many of these things from you at times.

To you, who don't know me but who find yourself struggling with infertility and feeling that deep, devastating despair---I know that feeling. And I want to give you a hug because I love hugs and I need hugs too sometimes. I don't have all the answers, in fact, I feel like I have fewer and fewer answers as this process goes on, but I know that we have our lives and many good things going on in our lives. We have people around us who care and who understand even though it doesn't feel like it many days. Keep pressing on! And if you feel it will help, share your story with me as I share mine with you.

To you, who don't know me and don't have this struggle but maybe have other dark lonely burning struggles---please read and realize that it may not matter the exact struggle, our deepest yearnings unmet bring us to a similar place.


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