Dear No One,

It is my favorite time of year! Yes, I am that annoyingly joyful person listening to Christmas music in October (and July. And March. Ok maybe year round). I love Christmas! The lights. The snow. The time spent with family. The fact that people just seem happier and nicer. The food. The trees. The decor.

Ok, have I made it clear enough how much I love Christmas? Good.

Now let me take you back to December 2014. We decided we were ready to start our family earlier that year. I was watching what I was eating, stopped drinking alcohol, taking prenatals and clomid. I was doing everything right to prepare my body for a baby.

I was so sure we’d get pregnant in the next couple months and by the next Christmas we’d have a little baby! Or at least be pregnant.

If you know me well, you know I’m a planner. I planned everything. How we’d tell our different family members. How I’d tell Marcus (there may have been a banner and shirt involved). Etc. etc. I planned every little thing.

Basically I was so excited for what was to come. My eyes were big and my heart naive.

In March, our world crumbled and my plans were instantly ripped from my hands.

I won’t get into details but the next 9 months were dark. Everything hurt. We got to Christmas 2015. No baby. No sign of a pregnancy in the near future.

That was a hard Christmas. My usual joy was no where to be found. I shut down and really only survived with the help of sarcasm and alcohol.

It was a month later I had a dream about adopting a baby and finally reached out to someone who is also in the infertility world that I allowed myself to start healing and rewrite my plans.

I know I don’t write that often, and I really wish I could just be a funny, witty blogger, but as Marcus would tell you, I’m not that funny. This blog is a therapeutic outlet for me and I write when my heart is pulling me to write. I wish this blog could be bright and bubbly and full of recipes and funny stuff my kid does, but infertility is not bright.

Infertility is dark. It strips you of so many more things than I can begin to explain. It took Christmas away from me that year, and I will cherish every one even more now that Daxon is here. I could not call myself an advocate for infertility if I weren’t honest about it.

So why am I writing this today? I am thinking of every woman who thought they’d have a baby or be pregnant this Christmas, and they aren’t. I pray you have more strength than me to reach out for support and deal with your emotions better than I did.

Whether you read this silently to yourself or reach out to me or someone else, I am here for you. I see you. Your pain is real. Allow yourself to feel it. Then remember you have already made it this far. You are making it through this moment right now. Use this strength and confidence to make it through the next hard moment. You may not be able to control your future, but you can control how you allow yourself to heal and move forward.

You are strong enough.

All my love,

Betsy