Infertility has its own language–one in eight women know it all too well. The world of IVF, IUI, and FET, all shorthand for different fertility procedures, is complicated. And while the causes of infertility are varied, the heartache of the women in those waiting rooms is the same. Our faces are sullen and our hands are balled into fists as we try to ward off anymore bad news. 

Since it is National Infertility Awareness Week (and coincidentally, National Poetry Month), I dedicate this poem to my Waiting Room Warriors.

We may avoid eye-contact while we sit together in silence, but I see you. I know your pain, and I promise that the wait is worth it.

Infertility

A mother without a baby

Is the way I used to feel

Avoiding little socks and shoes

While patiently waiting for my turn

Hiding my growing grief

Month after restless month

Waiting for a positive sign

Without any luck

Watching hope slip from my house

And jealousy move in

Shutting the wooden door

To an empty guest room

A doctor’s hands held our future

Our dreams were his to make

Hatching a plan to build a family

Meant nightly injections for weeks

Wishing day after day

To swaddle and rock

One tiny, momentous seed

Into a modern fertility miracle

Finally singing soft lullabies

To my newborn joy

And celebrating our strength

One precious minute at a time

Now my greatest triumph

Turns two before my eyes

Her existence made with science

And love forever fills our lives

Happy birthday, baby girl!