Infertility’s Identity Theft

She sits in the chair across from me showing more of her pregnancy. Her face is filling out, her breathing becoming more and more labored and her belly growing each week as her baby gets closer to breathing this earth’s fresh air. “How is your anxiety?” I ask her with both love and accountability. “Getting any better since you passed the week of Sarah’s loss?” referring to her pregnancy loss and making sure to name her baby girl.

“Maybe a little,” she replies as she tries to push the tears down and away from springing to her eyes.

“There is enough room for both. Give yourself permission to feel happy and scared and anxious and sad and joyful all at the same time. Fighting any of it, or denying it, will only make the anxiety worse.”

She looks at me with a look of both disbelief and peace.

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