Dear Infertility

Dear Infertility,

I hate you. You have robbed me of childbirth, and stolen the gift of children from me to my

husband. You changed our plans for the future. You have driven a wedge in my marriage we were not prepared for. When every womanly conversation comes back to fertility you remind me of my lack of ability. You make me cry. You make me depressed. You make me angry. You make me hate. You make me jealous. You make me insecure and hate my own body. Because of you I judge other's ability to parent. You make me ask, "why them and not me". You make me question God. You whisper lies like God is punishing me. That God thinks I will be a bad mother. You make me think there is no hope, and that God has forgotten me. Infertility, You make me someone I don't recognize; someone I don't like.

But oh, infertility, you have not robbed me of motherhood. You have made my marriage

stronger, and made us trust God's plan for our future. You will not steal my daily joy for life. You make me realize that my lack of ability did not take away my womanhood. You have made me stronger; fight harder. You make me smile during those womanly conversations because my family is unique, and my babies were delivered so differently. You have opened doors that would not have been opened without you. You make me pray harder, and appreciate more. I will not be angry. I will not hate. I will not be jealous. Because of you I have compassion: I have empathy for others. Because of you I have seen God's miraculous hand in my life, so much so, that I can not question Him. You have given God the opportunity to pore out his love and favor on me. Infertility, you make me someone I can be proud of; someone I love.

Not defined by you,

Samantha