The memory is still sharp, our third infertility Christmas.   I was glum, bummed, and ho-hum-bugged. We were gearing up for the holiday season and I’d just received everyone’s Christmas lists. 

infertility christmas

No big deal, I’d zip through these (thank God for Amazon wishlists) and be done Christmas shopping in 15 mins tops. But then it hit me. I choked back the tears as I looked at all the gifts for our nieces and nephews.

The thought of letting even one tear fall was too much.  If one fell, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop the rest. But the wave came and it was all I could do to stay in my chair.  It was the ugly cry, the stuff running down your face, heaving like a mountain woman, breaking to pieces cry.

No one prepares you for those moments.  The ones where all you’re doing is shopping for Christmas presents.  Then the next, you are sobbing because you still don’t have your baby to hold.  No Christmas presents to buy for a mini you.

No one prepares you for the hurt.  The emptiness. The loneliness of an infertility Christmas.  

What I learned from moments like those is that the gut wrenching pain will pass.  Just hold on tight. To a glimmer of hope. To your anger. To anything that will keep you from going under.  Shit, go under if you have to. But what life has to offer is worth coming back up for.

You will get through this.  One day, you will be on the other side of your fertility journey.  It could end with a pile of kids. Or it could end with you traveling the world.  The choice is absolutely up to you.

Click here if you are looking for a little extra support through an infertile Christmas.

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