Infertility Scabs: Just Rip The Band Aid Off

band-aidI don’t blog often anymore. I suppose I could say that it’s life’s fault, it just gets too busy. I don’t however think that would be honest.

In reality I don’t blog because sometimes it’s like ripping the band aid off the scab. And though I try to convince myself that the scab is thick, and hard, and calloused over, that’s not true either.

I believe that the infertility scab is one that doesn’t heal over, and it’s one that peels back with the slightest pulling. And so, I don’t write because I prefer to pretend that the scab isn’t there anymore.

Yet today, less than 24 hours after my grandmother passed away, and less than 24 hours after we were told that a birth mother had picked us, only to be told hours later that she changed her mind and picked someone else, I’m ripping the band aid off.

Because one thing I know to do when something in me breaks is to hold up a mirror so that others can see that the places they have broken aren’t wounds that only they know, so that others can know that it’s ok to reveal the raw scabs under their band aids of pretense.

You see I know.

I know the harshness of a reality that doesn’t work out time and time again, and then again and again. I know how it hurts to hope. I know how it feels to dangle your feet off the ledge of no return – ready to give up.

And I know what it’s like to be out of tears. To have the band aid ripped off, and this time to feel the disappointment so deeply that you feel nothing at all.

I know.

And I also know that somehow, through something no less than a miracle, still we find a way to get up in the morning and do what has to be done. We get up and we start over. And I know that sometimes we need to just rip the band aid off in order to do so, even though it exposes the tenderest of wounds underneath.


  1. Rebecca · · Reply

    Was so sad to read you have been served yet another massive blow, life can be so unfair!! Yes, its amazing how something inside us keeps us going after all the heartache. Keep strong. XX

    1. Loving you… xxxxxxx

      1. Thank you, thank you thank you.

    2. Thank you so very much Rebecca – it is amazing our resilience. Something always gives us the strength to keep going.

  2. A band aid is a temporary aid – I’m finding that unfortunately I have to face it if I want to heal in any form. I’m so sorry that the birth mother decided that but I have a feeling that maybe another great baby is meant to be with you.

    It’s hard to keep any form of faith when it feels like you’re stumbling in darkness but try to keep faith that this will turn around for you.

    Sending you a big virtual hug.

    x M (one of many fans of your blog)

    1. Thank you so very much for your encouraging words. Time truly is a healer, and as the days go by I find more and more peace with the events that took place with this birth mother. And I know, in my gut and my heart, that our child will find us in his/her time. We must simply continue to be patient.

  3. I’m so sorry. 😥 I pray for you comfort and rest and hope through this awful pain.

    1. Thank you for your words and prayers. So very much appreciated.

  4. I’m so sorry for your loss of your grandmother. And having the birthmother change her mind, how heartbreaking.

    You know, I watched a tv-series recently and a line came to mind regarding this situation, and please ignore it if you feel it’s ignorant. But it made me think.
    “You didn’t lose your baby, someone else got theirs.”

    And I truly hope there is a little soul coming your way soon that is meant to be.

    1. Thank you marwil. It took me some time to move through the hurt to find happiness that someone else has their happy ending, yet I am very grateful that this little one, who has had a fairly bumpy road so far, will be loved in a happy home. And I trust that when the time is right we’ll have our happy ending too.

      I hope that you are feeling well and that all is progressing perfectly and smoothly!

  5. So sorry for your losses

    1. Thank you Instant Mama. I love reading your updates by the way – it’s so beautiful how you are building the framework of your family every day.

  6. I am so very sorry. How horrible when bad things come together.
    I just know a special little soul has chosen you, you just haven’t met him or her yet.

    1. Thank you Heather, I love that way that you put it – and I feel the same way. A little soul will choose us, and perhaps my grandmother is now with them, helping them to find their way to us. No doubt she will be the guardian angel who watches over them always.

  7. I know I’m a little late here, but I wanted to say I’ve read and re-read this post, and I am thinking about you, loving you, and praying for you. We could talk for a long, long time about the simultaneous curse and need for sharing. We could talk for a long, long time about so many things… just know my heart is pounding for you, and praying for peace, and healing, and love, and unbridled joy for you.

  8. Thank you so much for your words of support and caring Ashley Sue. I know that you get it and I am cheering you on and supporting you as well!

    1. Thank you, Love. ❤

  9. […] Then, right in the midst of these questions, I saw Infertility Awakening’s post on the Ripped Scab that is this journey. […]

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