10 Weeks and Craving Mini Eggs

Infertility sucks. It sucks the money out of your pockets, the fun out of sex and any sense of spontaneity or joy in life.

Even the strongest, most confident and vivacious woman feels defeated every thirty days or so and any sense of self worth fades when once again she's not been able to do the most basic of biological tasks. 'Aunt Flo' is an inconvenience for many, and devastating for the silent sufferers.

I know because I was that woman, and I lived that Hell for over eight years. I mourned the loss of children never to be, realized that I could never be a complete member of the community we lived in, and that on any given day a significant portion of casual conversational topics brought about awkward silence rather than a sense of camaraderie.

Charles and I struggled with infertility for many years. We saw the doctors, took the tests, did the drugs and timed every aspect of our lives that the joy of love was almost lost. And even though we were 'perfect' patients, we were told that "Without 'Significant' intervention, adoption was our only choice." It was only through a freak moment when science, timing, the planets aligned correctly - whatever it might have been that we found ourselves pregnant.

I have had the fortune of being able to cross the bridge from wanting to be a parent into the life of being parent, but I will never forget the memory of the defeated face looking back at me from the mirror each and every day of those painful years.

Earlier this month on Facebook there was a 'lets surprise the guys' campaign amongst women in support of breast cancer. Women invited each other to post a 'week and candy I'm craving' status - as though indicating a week of pregnancy and the candy they were craving as a result.

While I was never invited to participate in that specific campaign, I have taken part in past ones; where colors of bras being worn were posted, the locations of where we kept our purses, etc.

This one, however struck a painful chord of sorrow. Not because of the purposes behind it, but because of the time of year that it took place and the method by which it was carried out - and that it took place during the month of infertility awareness.

While women who suffer from and survive the complex emotions of the inability to conceive or carry a child to term - many who suffer in silence to avoid the drama of resulting conversations - their friends on FB were proclaiming 'I'm 8 weeks and craving M&M's.' or whatever their sugary craving might have been.

I know that for many of my friends they were not craving candy, they were craving the opportunity to be a parent and my heart goes out to them.