It doesn't go away

Emotionally, Rosh Hashanah was very hard for me.  I had reached the end of my 30 Elul writing prompt challenge, and I felt a little bit drained.

Without getting into too many details, my body clearly is not cooperating with our TTC (trying to conceive) plan.  I had a chemical pregnancy a few months ago, and it seems that will be the closest we will get to giving our son a sibling.

Rosh Hashanah came, and there were so many pregnancy friends.  Pregnant with number two (or three or four...).  I am happy for them.  I truly am.  I am happy for them because I know how hard it is to get and stay pregnant.

I am also hurting.  The feelings of infertility do not simply vanish once you have a child.  I feel like my body has betrayed me.  I feel old.  Did I wait too long?  Maybe.  It didn't help that it took two years to get pregnant to begin with.

Time.  Is it time to stop?  Accept it won't happen?

(We've looked into IVF and the rates of success for my numbers/age is not that great).

When I heard the shofar, I felt my heart breaking.  I want so much to grow our family and it's hard when things are so beyond our control to the point of hopelessness.

24 Elul: Infertility

Now Sarai, Abram's wife, had not borne to him, and she had an Egyptian handmaid named Hagar.  

And Sarai said to Abram, "Behold now, the Lord has restrained me from bearing; please come to my handmaid; perhaps I will be built up from her." And Abram hearkened to Sarai's voice.  - Genesis Chapter 16

And Isaac prayed to the Lord opposite his wife because she was barren, and the Lord accepted his prayer, and Rebecca his wife conceived. - Genesis Chapter 25

And Rachel saw that she had not borne [any children] to Jacob, and Rachel envied her sister, and she said to Jacob, "Give me children, and if not, I am dead." - Genesis Chapter 30

And she vowed a vow, and said: to Lord of Hosts, if You will look upon the affliction of Your bondswoman, and You will remember me, and You will not forget Your bondswoman and You will give Your bondswoman a man-child, and I shall give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall come upon his head. -  (Hannah's Prayer) Shmuel 1 - Chapter 1

He seats the barren woman of the house as a happy mother of children. Hallelujah! - 

Tehillim (Psalms) Chapter 113

The short version of my infertility story is this:  it took two years to get pregnant.   I saw three different doctors, and the third doctor diagnosed my high TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) levels.  

I had one miscarriage.  Following the miscarriage (or chemical pregnancy if you will), I got pregnant again and thank G-d, gave birth to my beautiful son 42.5 weeks later.  

The emotional story is much longer.  For two years I felt lonely and heartbroken.  For two years, I took on Mitzvot, dropped Mitzvot, prayed and cried to the point I didn't know where I was spiritually.  The Rosh Hashanah before we conceived, I cried and prayed my shortest prayer ever.

I am grateful for my son.  We would like a second child, but after one year of trying, it is clear that infertility is still part of my life and body.   

I am not alone.  There are so many people who have and continue to struggle with infertility.  Please G-d remember them this Rosh Hashanah.  

8 Elul: Prayer

 May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable before You, Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer. - Psalms Chapter 19

Hearken, O Lord, to my voice [which] I call out, and be gracious to me and answer me. - 

Psalms Chapter 27

When my husband and I were trying to conceive, I prayed constantly.  I said Psalms.  I read the prayer for a child from my Siddur (prayer book).  I used my own words.  I begged G-d for a child.   I could think of a million reasons and I shared them all with G-d.  

Rosh Hashanah 2011,  the Rabbi based his sermon, based on the story of Chanah (from whom we learn how we should be praying) and started with the following words:  "unless you know the pain of infertility...".  I felt hot tears streaming down my face.  I don't remember much of what he said after that, I just felt my heart broken.  When the services continued, I covered my face with the Siddur and the only words I had left for G-d was "Please".  There were no other words, just "Please".  

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This past May, as I leaned against the stones of the Kotel (Western Wall), I prayed and started to cry, and the experience felt like I was crying in my Father's Arms.  

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Every night I do prayer time with my son.  My son and I recite the Shemah and I pray to G-d, admittedly with a list of requests and a list of thank you's.  I feel the connection every night, it's a holy time and one day my son will also speak to G-d in his own way.