There are days I look back on the many months we've been trying to have a baby and think how surprising it is that I haven't had more breakdowns. That I'm still getting out of bed every morning and facing another day of infertility with no end in sight. Mostly those days remind me how much I internalize what's happening and whether it's good or bad. I'd like to think I'm really that strong. That hoping and praying for a miracle for almost 2 years hasn't affected me very much at all. But that would be a terrible lie. I smile, laugh and inquire about the newest pregnancy symptoms or motherhood woes of my friends and family. But in my heart I'm torn up. I long for the child(ren) we haven't had and wonder if we'll ever be so lucky. Father's day is right around the corner and it's hitting me harder than even Mother's day did. I feel like such a massive failure for not being able to provide Babe with what comes so easily for most.
Today is tough but today will pass. And hopefully IF with it.
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