Two little lines. That’s all it took to turn my world upside down. Two little lines that told me that my symptoms were not that of perimenopause and anemia but rather, of pregnancy.

Journeying through the desert land of infertility can be a daunting possibility. I certainly didn’t think much about infertility when my husband and I began trying to start our family. But, as each month passed and no positive pregnancy test appeared, the idea of being infertile became a horribly, heart-wrenching probability.

Crumpled in the fetal position I once again cried out to God the same questions I had been screaming at Him for many months – “Why not me? Why am I not pregnant? Why can’t You just give me a child?!” Sound familiar?

“You’re trying to have a baby?! That’s so exciting!”

“Oh, you haven’t been able to get pregnant yet? It’s been almost a year? I’m sorry. That’s so terrible for you!”

These words, or words very similar, were spoken to me many times by some well-meaning people that I considered friends. In and of themselves, the words are not terrible. They are not hurtful. These people cared for me and wanted me to experience the joys of motherhood just like they all were doing. And so, the words were most definitely heart-felt but seemingly pity-filled.

I have had a lot of silent conversations with God, mostly one-sided and pretty much all about me. When struggling with the emotions infertility brings out in you, the selfish prayers are certainly understandable.

Milestones are celebratory occasions. Our first steps, our first lost tooth, graduating elementary school, earning our driver’s license, graduating high school and then college… This list goes on and on. We take pride in our achievements and celebrate our accomplishments. The milestone that is not a joyous occasion is the one year marker for trying to conceive a child. It is at this allotted time that the doctors deem us infertile.

I can recall many occasions where I would glance over at my husband sitting on the couch watching his favourite hockey team lose yet again, and wonder if my anguish-filled thoughts and prayers were echoed in his mind. Did he feel the pain of childlessness like I did? I could talk about it and agonize about it all day long but he seemed to be able to go about the day as if the greatest struggle we have endured to date was not occurring!

I have always loved music. Worship music is by far my favourite. I’m sure I was sung to while in the womb and I have early memories of my mom singing hymns to me as part of my bedtime routine. It was no surprise to me that God chose time and again to speak to me through the lyrics of songs that I listened to.

Fear can do funny things to you. Even though I was not getting pregnant, and in my head I understood I was infertile, it took me years to work up the courage to have the diagnosis confirmed by a doctor. Hearing the word “infertile” from a medical professional would just sound so final and real. It was my greatest fear.

I am not a patient person by nature. It’s a virtue I struggle with each and every day. Surprisingly, when it came to my own infertility journey and the aspects of it that I had control over, I became the most patient person in the world. Rather, the more appropriate word would be apprehensive. I believe I delayed the inevitable (making appointments for required testing) because I was afraid the results would be too final.