this is for YOU who are still waiting and trying to be called 'mama'*

dear You-who-are-waiting-to-be-called-a-mama, 

i know about the empty feeling of not being able to get pregnant. 

i know about the fear of 'will it ever happen'. 

i know about the constant thoughts of 'maybe this month'.

i know about the continues trying and making it fun part. 

i know about the not knowing. 

i know about it being not fun anymore. 

i know about the 'what if i never get pregnant'. 

i know about the dreams that he and you talk about until the wee hours of the night. 

i know about the names that you have already chosen. 

i know about the talks you have about whose lips and eyes your baby is going to have. 

i know about the giggles of what you want your baby to be like. 

i know about the hope you have for your baby's future.

i know about the room that you have already set up in your mind.

i know about the million times you walked into a baby store to just look... look at what you will buy 'if'.

i know about the friend you know for 'whose baby you can buy this'.

i know about the overwhelm & tears when you stand with your friends' baby's gift in your arms, wanting with everything in you to buy it for YOUR baby...

i know how you throw the clothes down, tears streaming down your face, and run out of the shop.

i know how this happens more than once. 

i know about the hope of treatment, ivf, icsi, clomid, you name it...about all the options. 

i know about donors and surrogates. 

i know about all the advise family and friends so freely give. 

and do i know about the 'just wait until you don't think about it, and before you know it, you will be pregnant'. 

i know about the invasive procedures of (in)fertility treatment. 

i know all about 'hope'. the 'gift' of a baby at the end of the emotional roller coaster. 

i know of the 25% success rate with these procedures and all i see on the walls are the photos of the babies that were born within that 25%.

i also know about the unknown. 

i know about the fear when you go for your first implant. 

i know about the support group number on the wall and the thinking 'i'm not that desperate'. 

i know about the not knowing what to expect. 

i know about the shyness of putting on the gown and going into a room full of strangers.

i know about acting as if this is no big deal. 

i know about the knowing that you have absolute no idea what to expect. 

i know how scared you are. 

i know how unfair this is. 

i know how angry you are. 

i know about every single time you speak with God and how you want to curse Him for making you one of them. 

i know about the endless injections and medicine. 

i know about the keeping it together emotionally. 

i know about your husband trying everything to 'take care' of you just in case you fall apart. 

i know about the fear of every injection. 

i know about the thoughts of 'i can do this, we are going to have a baby, this is nothing - thoughts'. 

i know about getting up at 7am to go to your neighbor (who is a nurse), to give you said injection. 

i know about smiling and being brave, where all you want to do is cry! 

i know about the waiting. 

i know about the devastation of dreams shattered when you hear 'your test is negative'.

sweet one who is already a mama in her heart, 

i also know about adoption and miracles and 'meant to be'. 

i know about the perfect time. 

i know about God being in control of our life plan. 

i know what it is to be called 'mama'. 

i know how sad one feels on mother's day when you've been trying every.thing.to.get.pregnant.and.it.is.not.happening. 

i know how you are pretending that special days like today don't upset you. 

i know how you concentrate on your own mom and shrug your own motherhood off as if a fleeting thought. 

i know how you think about motherhood every.single.minute.of.every.day.

this series of 'i know letters' is written for you. 

in honor of you. 

mothers'day, may 2013

bella, me & kellen

 this can be your story too. 

“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.” 

― Rumi