Personal Stories: Fertility Problems

As I greeted our guests at the door, I froze. Her oversized sweater said it all.

I was a fertility warrior; what happened? I looked in the mirror, confused by the woman looking back.

It doesn’t matter if I am praying or trying to focus on something else. If a thought comes to derail me, I must push it away, and not let it lead me astray.

I thought of bottling my emotions like I have a thousand times before, but as I was busy debating, I heard my own voice speak, almost on its own accord.

What does it mean to marvel at G‑d’s kindness when it isn’t directed at me?

Every last piece of paperwork, injection, anesthesia, procedure, waiting-room marathon that I’d endured to get to this moment evaporated with four simple words.

Please G‑d, send me a present. I know I am so wealthy with blessings, but right now I need a present. Show me, please, that you are with me.

Why? Why do I want a baby so badly? What is the force that is running me, bringing me to constant consultations with medical experts as well as rabbis knowledgeable in the intricate workings of Halachah, as I proceed with my fertility treatments and endless blood tests?

The thought of attending caused me so much anxiety that I decided to be kind to myself and give myself permission not to attend.

Granted, the first woman was the mother of all life because from her have eventually come all living beings, but where does that leave the rest of us?

Thirty-six degrees Celsius. Day after day, morning after morning. It stays the same. I can't tell you how much I want it to change. To go up. A rise in temperature would be a sign that I ovulated which would mean that maybe, just maybe I could be pregnant again...

Miriam told me she and her husband had been trying to conceive, but after trying for over two years - nothing had happened. At first they'd laughed it off as 'work-induced stress', but after a while they realized it was a more serious problem...

For awhile, I bided my time. I went to the gym, and met friends for coffee. I enjoyed these months without bottles and diapers because I knew that the next load waited just around the corner. Until a series of miscarriages...

Treatment after treatment, month after month, year after year, my womb remained empty. Nothing happened except the pain in my heart grew stronger...

I came home and explained to my husband that I just couldn't do it again. I couldn't start with the treatments again, the running around like a madwoman, the ups and downs, the anxiety. I just wanted to be happy with what I had...

Although I was at peace about my situation, it was still reassuring to hear from someone of the Rebbe’s stature that there is a role for every woman, whether a mother or not, in Judaism.

I closed my eyes and let the tears flow. I decided to feel beyond my body to the depths of my soul. A sense of confidence filled me.