Tag: Infertility

Dear Dierks Bentley

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Dear Dierks Bentley,

Three years ago, my husband and I were waiting to adopt. We had been chosen by an expectant mother and six days before this photo, we got a phone call that a baby had been born.

That mother decided to parent, and while I found peace that we were not meant to parent that child, I struggled with the fact that our years of infertility and inability to grow our family continued.

We went right back to waiting, but driving to work on Monday was painful. I thought we should be driving to see a baby, not the same old drive to work.

I saw that you were playing in Columbia, Missouri that Friday. That was a couple hour drive, but I decided my husband and I needed something to distract ourselves. So I bought the tickets. Second row. I splurged. I needed to let the music drown my pain that night.

Then you came out and put on an amazing show. That could have been enough. But then as you walked back to the stage, you stopped for a selfie. I nervously fumbled around trying to take a picture with my new phone, and you started walking away. I kind of squealed as I realized I hadn’t even taken a photo, and you turned around, came back, and took another photo. I couldn’t believe you took the time to come back.

My husband and I walked out of that concert with the same thought. “THIS is exactly where we were supposed to be tonight.” We felt peace. It was as much of a sign as we could find to say, “Hold on, your time is coming.”

And these lyrics ran through my head over and over:

“I’m a riser.

I’m a get up off the ground, don’t run and hider

Pushing comes a-shovin’

Hey I’m a fighter

When darkness comes to town, I’m a lighter

A get out aliver, out of the fire

Survivor”

Then one week later, we got another phone call. We had been chosen by another expectant mother. A baby boy. And three weeks later, we welcomed that baby boy into our family.

You’ll never remember this moment, but I’ll never forget it. The moment I let go of the control I was trying to desperately hold onto in the wait to become a family. The moment my husband and I looked into each other’s eyes and knew we were right where we needed to be.

Thank you for taking time for this moment. Thank you for putting your whole self into that show. You made a bigger impression than you probably ever knew.

Some of your biggest fans,

Marcus and Betsy

Infertility is a Trauma

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Dear No One,

I have publicly begged and yearned for the day I would be a mother. My journey to motherhood has been nothing short of exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I naively thought once I built my family, I’d sigh a big breath of relief and cruise into my dream job as a mother.

Here’s the thing, though. Infertility changed me. Changed me to my core. For the most part I think it made me stronger. It gave me a deeper purpose. But years of ignoring the mental and emotional turmoil of infertility has left incredibly deep scars.

Scars. “a lasting effect of grief, fear, or other emotion left on a person’s character by a traumatic experience.”

Infertility is a trauma. Yet it is kept behind closed doors. You don’t tell people you are struggling to get pregnant. You don’t tell people you miscarried. Why?

Because the pain is too heavy to put on someone who can never understand.

Because when you do talk about it, you get the comments “You’re still so young,” “just relax,” “you just get to have more fun trying.” And these comments, while meant to be helpful, only further your idea that your deep hurt isn’t valid. That you should be enjoying this journey somehow. That it isn’t that big of a deal.

So you hold it in. You carry the weight of your pain and trauma on your shoulders. But that pain is too heavy, friends. It should not be carried alone.

Infertility is a trauma, and it should be dealt with as a trauma.

Recognizing your struggle and finding validation is the first step in taking control of your infertility and mental health.

Your life is lived in cycles that bring the highest joys and hope followed by despair and grief. On repeat. No one is meant to do this alone.

Find support groups. Find other infertility warriors. Find a counselor. Find someone who understands and talk about your pain.

I admittedly didn’t do this. I kept to myself for a long time, and I’m still working through some of the scars that it left behind.

So I am here to tell you that infertility is a trauma. It is serious. It is deep. Your feelings are valid. You are not alone.

Recognize the depth of the journey you are on. Work through it, whether it is privately with a therapist or publicly on social media. It will not be easy. It is a long road.

But you are more than infertility. You are worthy of help. Your relationship deserves it. Your spouse deserves it. Your future or current children deserve it. YOU deserve it.

Your life is bigger than infertility. Deal with it as the trauma it is, find the healing you deserve, and move forward into the life that is waiting for you.

All my love,

Betsy