Infertility: Empty Wombs, Empty Arms, And Empty Bedrooms.
First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes...infertility? That's not how this was supposed to go. That old saying we used to tease each other with, takes on a whole new meaning when you are struggling through infertility.
Grant and I fell in love, we got married, then we built our dream home. We built our 4 bedroom, 2,700 square foot house, on our farm with the idea of having plenty of space for our kiddos to run around. This summer will make 4 years in our house, and it is definitely not looking like the picture we had in our heads.
The room adjacent to our master bedroom was meant to be the nursery. The emptiness of this room was too hard to walk past every day. We closed the door but the thought of what was looming behind it was always there. We turned it into an office, of which I am currently sitting in and writing this. The computer desk, furniture and decorations help take up space, but the longing for what this room should be is still there and I think it always will be.
We specifically designed our upstairs for children. Jack and Jill bedrooms, a bathroom and a play room. Grant and I have had no use for that space in all the time we have lived here so it was avoidable, but the emptiness of it still haunted us. This winter we decided to turn the "play room" into a Man Cave. We got a couch, recliner, and a big TV. The space is really cozy, and gives a reason to use the other half of our house, but it is bittersweet.
I know that one day we will be able to turn the "office" into a nursery, fill the play room with lots of toys, and be able to look outside and see our kids running around. Some days that dream feels so incredibly far away. How can something so empty feel so heavy? I have hard days where the emptiness consumes me and the longing makes my heart ache. Then there are other days where I can feel hope alive within me. I am still able to find joy in my daydreams of nurseries, imagining what our future children will look like and who they will become. The reality of it all is still there though, co-existing right along side my dreams.
I never knew that something so empty could weigh so heavy on my heart. The daily reminder of what you do not yet have, but so desperately long for is a heavy burden to bear. I hold on to the fact that in my heart, glimmers of hope still remain, and where there is hope, there is possibility and possibility is beautiful.
XO- Michele Senesac
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