How My Struggle With Fertility Helped Me Find Myself

It took a long time for me to arrive at the conclusion that, although it wasn't what I'd hoped for, finding out I couldn't have kids yielded a profoundly positive impact on my identity as a woman and as a general human being. And while it is still the most emotionally and physically draining circumstance I've faced in my 27 years of life, there is a silver lining that exists within it.

My feelings on this are still largely dependent upon the day, the week, or the month; when your future is hanging in the balance on a daily basis, your proclivity toward optimism often suffers the same fate. In my moments of quiet clarity, however, I am able to clearly observe all the ways in which it has permitted me the opportunity to shape and appreciate exactly who I am.

It is so easy to let the rest of your life get lost in the shuffle when you're trying to conceive. It's a gradual slide into obsessiveness and one that could end up costing you. It didn't take me long to realize that this was not a route I was willing to travel. Make no mistake, my desire for my own family is encoded in my DNA. The love my husband and I are ready to give to a child is bottomless, and I will go to great lengths to give him, and myself, that gift. But how could I expect to be the kind of mom I know I am capable of being if I lose touch with everything else that is important to me in the process? In light of this realization, I made the conscious decision to channel that energy into developing hobbies, passions, and interests that support my well-being and continued growth.

I am a firm believer that the human condition is such that none of us make it through life without an internal struggle of some kind. For me, that demon came in the form of an anxiety disorder. In my mid-20s that became an all-consuming problem that motivated me to seek out a specialized treatment specific to my brand of disorder. It has been a year and some change since my first appointment, and in that time I've been a witness to an incredible shift in the landscape of my psyche. It has already altered the trajectory of my quality of life in such a tremendously positive manner that some days I am still in disbelief.

Maybe it's our journey with fertility or maybe it's just the typical process of getting older, but over the last couple of years I've become acutely aware of the need to surround myself with positive energy. Namely, genuinely good people. Facing these problems forces you to confront and acknowledge the lack of control you have in life, but the one thing we can decide for ourselves is the company we keep, and I have learned firsthand how essential it is to honor this by choosing wisely.

I wouldn't refer to myself as a brave person (re: anxiety disorder), but I would say that in certain regards, my struggles with fertility have made me braver than I ever thought I was capable of being. Writing pieces on such a taboo and excruciatingly private topic makes a lot of people squeamish and often draws unwelcome opinions and judgments. It is to be expected.

It was nerve-racking the first time I submitted an article admitting to our diagnosis…if I'm being honest, it still is. What I learned after deciding to be vocal about our struggles is that opening myself up to being a human—which is an intrinsically flawed and naturally vulnerable experience—creates a platform for honesty with yourself and with those who hear you. Learning to be honest with myself in the face of vulnerability has created a newer and even healthier environment for the relationship I have with myself.