In the world of infertility, hope is very fleeting. Some days it's there, some days it's gone. Today is a "it ran for cover" type of day. For some reason I'm just feeling really down. Maybe it's the fact that I'll have to spend another holiday season with empty arms. The holidays aren't that much fun when you don't have kids and you desperately want them. I feel as if I'm doomed to be an infertile failure for the rest of my life. No matter what I do, no matter what I try, no matter what medicine I take, nothing seems to be doing the trick. I know it's my fault. I'm the broken one. I'm the one that can't give my husband a child. I'm the one that can't make my parents grandparents again. I'm the one that can't make my sister an aunt. I'm the one whose body has betrayed her. I can't even do the most natural task of a woman. My hope has ran and hid and I don't even know where to look to even try to regain it.
Today I am 6dpo. I have another week to go until my period will arrive and I will know once again that I'm a disappointment. I've done everything right... but I'm being punished. Why?... WHY!?!
I haven't cried about infertility in a while, but here I sit thinking about my childless future and can't help but for alone and desperately sad. My heart aches and bleeds. My eyes cry.
I've tried to be optimistic. I've tried desperately to hold onto hope, but every month of 1 lined pregnancy tests depletes the "hope bank" a little more. I'm running on fumes at this point.