There are moments, days, weeks... where I feel totally behind in life.
Infertility does that to you.
Brian and I found our great love later in life. While we were standing up in weddings of our friends in our 20s, we didn't even meet one another until I was 28 and he was 32, and we tied the knot at 32 and 35. It was definitely frustrating during my 20s to not find the love of my life, but I gained so much independence and learned how to take care of myself before Brian waltzed into my life.
A love like ours was totally worth the wait.
I pray the day will come that I can say the same thing about our babies.
I always dreamed of being pregnant at the same time as my friends. Sharing tips and pains and anxieties of what was to come. Raising my kids alongside theirs. Sitting on the deck on a hot summer day as squeals and laughter fill the air while the kids run through the sprinklers in the yard. Birthday parties and joint family vacations. Same schools and activities.
Another broken dream I have to learn to accept.
We LOVE our friends' kids. So much so that we had 10 of them (plus a baby) as ring bearers and flower girls in our wedding. It absolutely breaks my heart that our "someday" kids won't grow up with our niece (who's already 8!) or my godson (who's already 10!) or Brian's godson (who's already 7!) or all the others who are growing up too fast.
This is why my heart breaks.
While girls who are 15 years younger than me are growing their family or classmates I graduated high school and college with are on their fifth kid, I am over here wondering if I'm ever going to get pregnant before my eggs dry up.
While our friends are looking at daycares and preschools and summer camps or figuring out the best way to discipline their kids, we're over here trying to figure out what our next possible (not guaranteed) step is to start a family.
While our friends are paying for diapers and clothes and dance lessons and sports or upgrading their homes to make more room, we're over here trying to figure out how we're going to pay for whatever we choose to do next to TRY and become parents.
Infertility and the two options we have left to start our family is astronomically expensive.
This is why my heart breaks.
When I'm around my father-in-law and my husband, I can't help but pick up on father/son connections, like their similar laughs and how their voices sound the same or the way they say certain phrases and share the same sense of humor. Our kids won't share DNA with my husband and that makes me wonder if I'll ever look at Brian and our future children the way I see Brian and his dad.
This is why my heart breaks.
When my parents' friends talk about their grandkids or take them for a weekend so mom and dad can have a night out or post pictures on social media, I can't help but think about the disappointment my own parents must feel.
When I think back on the most amazing, heartwarming, and close relationships I had with my grandparents, I wonder if my parents will ever get to experience that.
Will they ever know the joy of being grandparents?
This is why my heart breaks.
When I'm at Target and I see a frustrated mother with a cart full of kids.
When I walk by the children's section at a clothing store.
When I read an article about a child who was not wanted.
When I see a young couple walking around the neighborhood with a stroller.
When I hear people complaining about their children.
When I see Brian holding babies or playing with kids.
When I go to a friend's house and their living room floor is covered in toys.
When I hear a horrible story about an innocent child.
When I flip through the TV channels and fly through the children's stations.
When I watch Brian interact with our niece.
When I see another pregnancy announcement on Facebook.
When my Instagram and Snapchat are flooded with videos and photos of people's kids.
When I realize this list is endless.
This is why my heart breaks.
When I look at Brian and think about how his devilish good looks, big ears he got from his great great grandfather, kind brown eyes, unparalleled sense of humor, spirited sense of adventure, love of doing handstands in any pool or ocean, and humungous heart won't be genetically passed down to our children. When I think about how much that shatters both of our hearts. When I think about how amazing our biological children would have been under different circumstances.