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!