by 
I was sitting in La Sagrada Familia in May. It was the perfect rainy day activity. Five years previous, I sat in the same pew, praying for a husband. I was about to turn 34, my heart was broken, I was about to quit my job and I just wanted to settle down. Not really being religious anymore, it felt strange yet very comforting to pray for this person I so longed to meet.
Sitting there five years later, next to the man I prayed for in one of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world was surreal. My prayers were full of gratitude that day, offering thanks for every member of my family. But, there was one thing I still really wanted so I added a prayer at the end for a something my heart had been longing for, a baby.
For years I was totally fine being childless. I was traveling the world, exploring and doing whatever I wanted. I had a miscarriage 20 years ago that shattered me, and yet looking back I know that it changed the trajectory in my life in a very positive way. I accepted that perhaps I would never become a mother, until one day my body wanted it.
I remember that day very clearly. It was 4 years ago. We were in Michigan, out on the lake with his family and his nephew jumped in the water into his arms. Watching him with his nephew changed my biology. In that moment everything in me wanted to be a mother to this man’s children. I know that may sound strange, but everything in me changed that day.
My brain immediately made me think about my age and how at that point, my eggs were considered “geriatric” and it made me want to figure out if I could have children. There are so many opinions about women over 35 and pregnancy and I read a bunch of them, most of which freaked me out.
I started tracking everything, measuring, timing, waiting. My periods started to become something I resented. My stress and anxiety around the entire process was terrible.
Then, in July, I felt different and missed a period. Hope flooded my heart. I just knew something was different. We landed from our time abroad and almost immediately, I started bleeding. My heart broke. I cried a lot after we returned. I felt like my body had failed us, I felt hopeless and old.
My second book was about to launch so I dived right into work and promoting my book. I buried my grief in work and that felt comfortable because my career was doing well. I could control outcomes with that, so I gave my book and business all of me.
Several months passed and pregnancy remained elusive. We were told to seek help after trying to conceive for a year. In January, I went in to check what was going on. The doctor was informative, supportive and compassionate. I cried when I told her I just wanted to know why I couldn’t get pregnant. She ordered some tests and told me to come back when I conceived for pre-natal care.
I felt good about the appointment and returned hopeful awaiting the test results that I was praying would show that it was just a matter of time before we got pregnant.
And then she called me a few days later. “I’m so sorry Emily, this wasn’t the news I was hoping to give you.” She explained the very slim chance of me getting pregnant and that we should immediately look into alternative options. “Thank you for calling” I replied, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I hung up the phone and sobbed.
“I’m so sorry.” I cried to my husband. He just hugged me and let me cry because there wasn’t anything he could say that would make that moment better.
I was in shock for a few days, crying most of the time and feeling so sorry for myself. I knew I was crying about the news but also about the grief from the summer that I stuffed way down. I was grieving because I loved the dream and the expectation that it would all just work out easily.
Returning to life as usual was hard. My self pity wanted to keep me in bed and my perfectionism wanted to work through it like a bulldozer. I needed to find my center and allow the pain to heal while also doing my work and tending to my relationships.
It took weeks for me to stop crying at the drop of a hat. Grief comes in waves, never giving clues to when the next one will break. You can’t analyze it like you can scan the ocean to see where the energy will rise. I had to allow my heart the time to process.
Then one day, acceptance came. After over a year of trying to make something happen and doing everything I thought I needed to do to make it work, I just accepted that we may need to look at other possible ways to become parents. Although I recognized that many couples face this reality, I needed to accept it as my own. I needed to give my body acceptance and release the grief and anger I felt towards it.
It felt good to melt into acceptance and release the need to control.
Earlier this year, I chose the word FLOW as my theme for the year and for the first time, I felt in flow with the process. I spent so much time trying to make, trying to measure and analyze and forgot to be present.
Soon after I received the news, I heard from several women about their infertility struggles. I had not said anything about what I was going through and in those moments, I realized that I could offer true empathy because I know the pain intimately now.
Sometimes our deepest pains can be our greatest gifts.
I’m not sure where this journey is leading me but I’m finally open to what is has to teach me. It feels good to release the control, measuring and anxiety. I still find myself choked up from time to time but then I remember that this is a gift and the answer will come when its supposed to.
I am changing my prayer to “change me through this, show me how to be a light through this pain and thank you for this struggle and the strength that will come from this.” I believe joy can be greater after we get through a valley and I want to choose joy and not despair going forward.
