When I was younger, I had to help raise my younger siblings because my parents were too busy, too tired, too stoned, or too self involved. I truly felt that I should never have a child because I did not want to bring a child into the world that I did not have time for, care for or afford.

As I have gotten older, my viewpoint has changed and lately I guess my biological clock has really started to go insane because all I can think about is how nice it would be to have the joy and the blessing that only a child could bring into our marriage.

We thought it would be easy, have some strategically planned love making and nine months later there would be our bundle of joy. We had gotten pregnant before, many moons ago, but the pregnancy miscarried. We figured it would be that same kind of dumb luck that would get us pregnant again and  this time things would be different. We are newly born Christians after all, surely God would grant this request for us.

I had been through some things just after high school, cervical cancer to be exact, and before we were married I wanted to be certain that we would be able to have a family eventually. I had also been on Depo-Provera for a few years and I wanted to make sure that that would not have a bearing on our likelihood of conception either. So I dragged my happy self down to the OB-GYN that specializes in these sorts of things with a list of questions that I had to have answered.

So the doctor reviewed all of my notes and questions, ordered some blood work and assured me that everything would be fine. You are still young he told me (29 at the time) you will be fine just relaxed. So for a year I just relaxed, I made the most of our marriage and my new job, I focused my thoughts on a more distant future and forged ahead.

After a year of confirming my womanhood, over and over, I went back to the doctor. Again he ordered the blood work and this time he prescribed a fertility drug called Clomid. I investigated the drug and found out that it could cause multiple births and that is used on woman that are not ovulating as well as they should. I was supposed to take this on days 3-7 of my monthly cycle and cross my fingers.

Month after month after month and still nothing. I take my temperatures, we time our intercourse (somewhat we are still newlyweds). My husband went through those tests that men squirm from. He was fine, it must be me. Another confirmation of my brokenness, my inability to procreate, another confirmation that I am in some way not good enough, not worthy enough, not something enough to have a child of my own.

We love children. I love to watch my husband play with our Godchildren that we spoil and dote upon as if they are in a small way, our very own. When we leave them, I feel like crying because it is just another reminder, another brick in the wall that is my disability to have a child.

I wonder what miraculous thing that God has in store for us that he does not see fit for us to have a child just now. Other times I wonder what sins I have committed that would  keep me from being able to bear a child.

All I know is that the one thing in the world that I want more than anything is a small smiling child in my arms that I know will be mine forever, that I will love and care for and probably spoil. And that is the one thing that I keep being denied.

I do not intend to sound depressed or sad, I just want people to understand that underneath this smiling, loving, sometimes cuddly exterior is someone who is struggling to understand that she may never have what other people seem to have so easily and that some days that is really hard to grasp.

I tell my story for everyone to hear. I will tell it to complete strangers and friends whenever I am given the opportunity.

Why do I tell my story? I tell my story because I am proud of the things that I have come through and from. I am proud that I have been able to be this strong and this courageous when others would have fallen. I am proud of the being that God is creating in me and I want to share that with others.

I tell my story because I know that there are others out there just like me. That have been abused and battered, that have always known that they were nothing especially if they stood between the addict they loved and the next score. I tell my story because I have been dependent and co-dependent, loved and hated, crazy and sane. I tell my story because I am not ashamed of what I have done in my life, it has made me into the person that I am today.

I tell my story with joy in my heart and determination to finish, because I know that as hard as it is to tell, it is the story that I have been dealt and I cannot turn my back on it. I tell my story because God gave me this story to share with you. He knew that it would affect you in someway, in some small thing that you do. It’s what sets me apart and also what binds me to you. I am so proud of all of the miraculous things that I have been through, because I am here to tell you my story, I am an example that you can make it through.

I do not tell my story for you to pity me. I do not tell you my story for you to feel sorry and cry, rather you should rejoice in what God has been able to bring me through and in the fact that he has brought me forward to say this to all of you.

Sometimes I feel for those that have lived that sheltered life, those that know nothing of drugs and abuse, because they know nothing of what it truly means to fall into the hands of grace. Perhaps this is the future of Christianity, that the ones that have fallen, the ones that are broken, the ones that have always been far from God shall inherit His grace.

I tell my story because it is mine to share, and it weighs on my heart that you should know my truth.