The Letters of Infertility- Dear Pregnant Stranger

CONTENT WARNING!! Infertility

Dear Pregnant Stranger, 

I see you out and about, roaming the baby aisle at Target with a purpose while I go through those isle, looking at the contents with longing. You pat your belly, picking up various items, inspecting them with a huge smile on your face. Occasionally you’ll show your significant other, and you will discuss pros and cons. 

A part of me hates you, but then I instantly feel guilty because the truth of the matter is, I don’t know your story. You could have gone through years and years of infertility like me, only to end up spending your life savings on IVF for it to work for you, or you could have gotten pregnant by accident, the result of a night coated with inhibreation and lose inhibitions. 

I don’t know you so I shouldn’t hate you, but I do. I know it’s jealousy, the envy that lives deep inside of us all coming to the surface. I hate it, but I don’t really know how to stop it. I just… I want to be in the baby aisle of Target with a purpose. I want to bicker with my husband about the pros and cons of a certain brand of diaper. I want that, but the American healthcare system has failed me. It’s failed us all really. 

Maybe you are one of the people who spent your life savings on a chance to be a mother. If you are, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that the healthcare in our country is so fucked up that you have to spend somewhere between 10,000 and 15,000 dollars just to become a mother. I’m sorry that it cost twice that to adopt. 

At this point, I have been told that IVF is really our last option, but my husband and I cannot afford it. We don’t have any kind of savings. We don’t have anyone to help us. We have nothing in this battle. Just like everything else in this country, if you’re not rich then you don’t matter. Your wants and needs do not matter. 

My insurance is more than happy to cover limp-dick syndrome but it covers 0% of infertility cost. That’s right ZERO. Meaning, every single procedure I’ve had in regards to infertility has been paid for out of pocket or billed to me with a lovely little bow. Each IUI cost somewhere between 300 and 500 dollars. That seems like chump change in comparison to the cost of IVF. IUIs haven’t worked though. Nothing works, and IVF isn’t a guarantee. 

So, I guess I will just stand in the baby aisle of Target, looking at the merchandise with longing. I guess I will continue to feel like a failure in this world because my body cannot do the one thing that it is biologically supposed to be capable of. I cannot give life, only death. 

So please, Stranger, cherish your pregnancy and baby. Cherish motherhood with everything you have because some of us are forced to just view it from a distance. Some of us aren’t gifted with the ability to create and hold life. Some of us are just wastelands of dust and sorrow. 

Sincerely, 

A Broken Wasteland

Others in the Series

Letters of Infertility- Dear Pregnant Best Friend

Letters of Infertility- Dear Husband

Letters of Infertility- Dear Body

The Letters of Infertility- Dear Husband

Content Warning! Infertility

Dear Husband, 

I had a dream last night. It wasn’t a nightmare in the traditional sense. It didn’t leave me screaming or jumping out of bed with my heart pounding in fright. It was a bad dream, though. It left me feeling sad with a sense of hopelessness and loss. I’m a logical person. I know it was a dream, but I couldn’t shake it. I spent my morning trying to hold back tears every time I thought about it. 

I dreamed that you had gotten back together with your ex-wife. I was still a part of the relationship because we do have an open marriage. In my dream, she had gotten pregnant a few weeks into your renewed relationship. I overheard you both whispering about it excitedly, talking about your dreams and hopes for the baby’s future. In the dream, I laid bawling in the adjacent room, praying you couldn’t hear me. You had finally gotten everything you wanted, and I couldn’t give it to you. 

I know this is a dream. I know that your ex-wife actually had her tubes tied, and you wouldn’t ever renew that relationship. It was what the dream was truly about that really bothered me. You see, I know deep down inside, you could easily go find a woman that can give you something I can’t: a biological child of your own. The problem has always been with me and my body, not you. 

So… what’s stopping you from doing this? I know, I’ve asked you this before. I know I have shared this deep seated fear of mine with you, and you always say that you love me regardless. If it doesn’t happen with me, then you don’t want it to happen at all. I hear you, and it’s not that I don’t believe you. Fears are just… illogical. 

I know that if the roles were reversed, I would say the same thing to you. I would feel the same way. I just don’t value myself the same way I value you. My self worth is pretty much non-existent and every time I think about infertility, it diminishes to nothing. Working on valuing myself, whether I’m able to have children or not, is up to me, not you. 

I know you’re probably sick of me apologizing by now, but I feel so fucking guilty. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want. I’m sorry my body is broken. I’m sorry your luck was so shitty, you ended up with someone who couldn’t bear you a child. I’m so fucking sorry. I hate myself, and I wouldn’t blame you if a small part of you hated me too. 

It’s truly okay if you do. I am a very understanding person. I do my best to look at things from all perspectives. If one day, you decide you no longer want to be with someone who can’t give you something you want, then how can I blame you? I couldn’t blame you doing something that will make you happy. I would always love you, but I understand you have to do what you must to be happy. I may never be able to make you happy. 

With all my love, 

Your Worthless Wife

Others in this series

Letters of Infertility- Dear Pregnant Best Friend

Letters of Infertility- Dear Pregnant Stranger

Letters of Infertility- Dear Husband

Letters of Infertility- Dear Body