Filtering through the shadows or "Maybe it's just God's will"

I'm beginning to feel odd about posting here, as we're not really pursuing treatment this cycle. And to be honest, I don't know when we will next. This need for a baby is consuming me, filling my soul with such vitrol and such profound sadness that I don't recognize myself anymore.

In the last few days, a number of people have hurt me, tremendously - deeply - by saying "Maybe it's just God's will. You and Michael just weren't meant to be parents. Accept that there's a reason for you to not have children."

I've been struggling a lot with elusive ideas of what might have been in the last few days. Have I prevented him from being a parent by marrying me? What if I had just said no, and he had moved on with his life to someone else. Would he have a houseful of children? Would I?

I am sort of in just a contemplative - awfully lonely place right now. Am I that bad of a person, would I be that bad of a mother? Why me? Why Michael? Why us? Why?

I am so happy for each of you who have conceived. Honestly. I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous, but I pray for all of you to carry successful (and drama free) pregnancies to term. I wish you all speedy and safe deliveries. I am elated for you with each doubling beta, with each first flutter of movement, with each belly shot. I have hoped along with you for each test, each milestone.

I am so happy for those of you who are adopting. I admire so much the struggle you go through to educate others, to show that this baby, who perhaps is not even born yet, somewhere in the world is your child. My heart aches hearing of the homestudies, the paperwork and the fear that you are having to go through. But I am immensely happy with updates of each dossier sent, of each homestudy visit completed, of each fingerprint taken.

I am so happy for those of you using gestational surrogates. I am awed by your strength. By the strength of those giving so selflessly to help you bring a child forth into the world.

I am so excited for each of you as you come nearer in your journey to finally bring your children home to your loving embrace. Home.

I am so desperately frightened and sad for each of you who are suffering. From infertility, miscarriage, heartache. My heart is woefully heavy with sadness for each of you. I pray for an expeditious end to your sadness, a hope that you will be closer to happiness with each passing hour.

You have all been so generous in laughing, in grieving, in just being with me. Thank you. You've helped me through some of the most difficult moments in my marriage and my life. You've kept me sane. You've kept me hoping.

So I feel almost guilty confessing that I worry - what if they are right? What if it is part of a bigger plan? What if I do just need to let go and accept that it won't happen for me? Perhaps I am putting so much effort into this desperate hope for parenthood that I am overlooking other ways that I can be happy.

Right now, I am tired. I am tired of starting over again and again. I am tired of feeling perpetually broken. I am tired of feeling like less of a woman. I am tired of my husband resenting the very prospect of sex. I am just tired. Exhausted even.

And to be honest, as much as you've picked me up and kept me going - I think I just need to sit and rest a bit. I think I may have hit my wall, if only temporarily.

I'll still be here, my cheers and prayers filtering through the shadows of the sidelines.

But for now the sadness is too heavy for me to continue.