I don’t often post about my infertility journey here (okay, lately I don’t often post, period. Gotta work on that!). However, I wrote this poem recently, and felt compelled to share it in a place where maybe it might reach more who understand or need to hear someone else does.
I am ready to let go To give up on the dream Of holding our newborn son or daughter I no longer imagine her face Would his son have his eyes and my hair? I don’t dream of these things… Anymore
I want to move on To different, if not better, dreams But memories rush in Painful splashes of red And tell me I’m not really a woman, Just a facsimile of one
My hell is this excruciating reminder Of my failure to give him both of us My soul as torn to shreds as my insides, I’m barren like the trees of winter My mind as twisted as their stark, black limbs
My heart repeatedly crushed, Just as it beats again The healing process endless The pain a relentless rush of red