It’s National Infertility Awareness Week.
My Facebook feed is filled with graphics proclaiming “I am 1 in 8”. My feed is filled with these because I have a LOT of friends who struggled with infertility. We connected over our struggles to conceive. I am infertile. And it sucks.
How did I get so terribly unlucky to always be on the wrong side of statistics? 1 in 4 (pregnancy loss), 1 in 8 (infertility), and 1 in 2500 (give or take).
1 in 2500. The most recent statistic of babies per year who die from SIDS.
Just the mere fact that I am having to Google “how many babies per year die from SIDS?” is utterly depressing, in the minimum.
Infertility was hard. Soul-sucking. It dominated YEARS of my life. But now, what I wouldn’t give for that to be the worst of my defining statistics. Because this struggle I face now… the death of a baby after trying SO HARD to have the baby… it’s nothing short of brutal, heartbreaking, debilitating.
And National Infertility Awareness Week is just another reminder of what my life was like before. Of how things can always be worse. And of my sweet IVF baby boy, Oliver.