10th Blogoversary

I can't believe I have a blog. An anonymous blog where I've written my most personal, most embarrassing feelings. I can't believe I've been sharing honestly in this space for ten whole years. TEN years.

When I started this blog, it had been a year and a half since my last IVF didn't result in pregnancy. I had started a new school program and I absolutely hated it. I thought I had been through so much already. And I had. But I had no idea about what all was still coming.

A couple of years later I graduated and moved out of state like I had planned. My husband did not come like we had planned for the last three years. (I will never understand that.) We got divorced. That wasn't planned. I moved out of the city and into the mountains. I worked full-time as a special education teacher Monday - Friday and part-time at the hospital 45 minutes away on the weekends. That was tough! Then the pandemic came and shut everything down. That was even tougher. Those early months were so uncertain, destabilizing, and terrifying.

I moved again. Got more jobs, quit more jobs, and bought a house and moved again. 

I went back to school. Again.

I moved to another state. Again.

I started another new job. Again.

I bought a house and moved. Again.

Blahhh. So much privilege, so much stress. I'm so exhausted. Are you exhausted?

And that's just the microcosm. I don't even address the macrocosm much on this blog.

We are all exhausted.

I thought I was going to have kids. I thought groceries were going to stay somewhat affordable. 

I thought a lot of things about the future.

And here we are. 

It's good, it's bad, it's ugly. 

I enjoy the good, acknowledge the bad, and do my best to minimize the influence of ugly in my life. I go to work, pay my bills, connect with others, and do my part to make the world a better place. I don't know what else I can do. 

I didn't know what to do when I realized I wasn't going to be a mother in this lifetime, but I figured it out over time. I rediscovered enthusiasm. I explored new avenues to happiness. I found a new hobby. I cultivated contentment and became best friends with myself. 

Ten years of blogging. 

I couldn't have done it without you.

You can purchase that cake topper here where I found the picture.

P.S. I have a lot of favorite posts, but I'd like to highlight this one on this 10th Blogoversary post.
It's about when I started quilting and it had nothing to do with infertility or being childless not by choice. It's from 7.5 years ago, and it's called Living My Life.

Grief, Growth, & Supporting a Mother

After I ended fertility treatments, I decided to change careers and go back to school. I could not return to teaching. I could not work all day with other people's children. Not back then.

If you've been reading for a while you might remember how horrible my program was. I was just reminded myself as I read several posts from 2017 and 2018 trying to find the one I was looking for. The professors were awful. And I wrote very honestly about it back then. 

The post I was looking for was this one. It's about the time I missed a class because the research article they were discussing that day was about motherhood and how it brings meaning to life. I don't really know because I never read the article. I emailed the professor and offered to complete an alternate assignment. She replied very rudely, and I've never forgotten it. She told me that I wouldn't get to choose my patients in the future and that my decision to miss class was unprofessional. She had zero compassion.

Well.

Well, well, well... Dr. [Name Redacted (but not redacted for her sake)]. A big middle finger to her.

Because, no, we don't get to pick our patients/students/clients. But we can be compassionate when the situation requires it. Unlike how my professor treated me in the spring of 2017.

Because now, in the fall of 2026, I am healed and I am skilled and I have knowledge about profound grief, disenfranchised grief, and lifelong grief earned through lived experience.

And I can hold space for others. I can validate their experience. I can empathize with them and teach them too, just like so many bloggers and authors did for me over the years.

The people I help support includes mothers.

Without going into too much detail, I've been working with a woman whose son died. She is trying to take care of herself and her health while still showing up in all of the other areas of her life. 

Because as we already know, life does not stop for grief. 

So I've been able to provide her with a little bit of education about grief. Of course she is grieving and she knows that, but there are so many other things about grief that are rarely explicitly stated. So I just say them. The persistent brain fog. The unspoken timeline from others about when you are supposed to "be over it." The fact that there are some things you don't "get over," but you can get through. And one thing I told her was that grief is very lonely. I told her that she was her son's only mother so nobody else will understand how it feels, and that can be very isolating. 

I'm supporting a grieving mother with all that I've learned through my own grief of childlessness.

That professor was very rude and unsupportive nine and half years ago. She was right that we don't get to pick our patients, but she was wrong that I would be forever wounded like I was. 

I am strong now, and I can help others navigate their pain.

I wanted a picture of a strong plant to represent grief and growth.
I searched online for "strongest plant ecological resilience" to find an image to go with this post. Lo and behold, I learned about syntrichia caninervis! An article posted just yesterday found it to be "the most resilient desert plant found to date."

The Last Three Months of the Year

It's my favorite time of the year. I love October, November, and December. I love the decorations and festiveness that come with each month. I love the changing weather. I love the shorter days. I love apples, cider, leaves changing, pumpkins, hot chocolate, cozy quilts, celebrating gratitude, cranberries, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, putting ornaments on the tree, holiday lights, Santa, stockings, and snow. Please let there be snow.

I love the winding down. Every year I read about the "hustle and bustle" of the holidays, but I haven't experienced that in decades. That's not how I curate this time. I take what I enjoy from these three months and leave the rest. 

I try to do as much as possible during the first half of the year so I can do less for the last half.

And we are here! Happy October!! It's pumpkin time, it's spooky season, it's Libra, and then it's Scorpio. It's football season, which I don't particularly care about except I grew up in a sports household so it's part of the seasonal rhythm for me. (As an aside, I'm thinking about getting into hockey. And by that I mean, learn the basics and watch some games. I looked up the season. It just started. There are a lot of games.)

What does any of this have to do with infertility? Not much. And also, everything.

Ten years ago I wrote about Halloween being the hardest day of the year. Then three years ago I wrote about how it had changed. I love this time of year, but I had to reclaim it. I had to let go of how I thought I'd be celebrating these three months. You know, with kids. Instead it's just me. I don't live near family and my boyfriend is not particularly into holidays. 

But now I know what's important to me, and now that's what I do. I enjoy the parts I like.

I get excited when I start seeing pumpkins at stores at the end of September. I'll turn on the tv for background noise while football plays on the weekend. I love October, especially when there's a crispness in the air. I enjoy the ambience and decorations everywhere. I love to see people in costume during the day on Halloween. It's hilarious.

Then November comes and I just love it. For so many years now, I've been cooking the big meal. I'm getting to where I prefer a ham over a turkey, but I'm all about the sides. Lately it's just been me and my boyfriend. Sometimes it's us and his son. I love the idea of abundance, the practice of gratitude, and the ritual of leftovers and decorating the tree the next day.

Then I really savor December. It all goes faster every year. I don't even do much, but this year we are going to go see a performance of The Nutcracker. That'll be festive. And all of my Xmas movies are unpacked. I haven't watched those in a couple of years. And I'll have a couple of simple gifts for us to unwrap. And stockings stuffed with candy.

And then... 

It's the quietest week of the year. Between Xmas and New Year's, the world actually slows down. I don't have appointments. I don't travel. I take time off work and enjoy a staycation at home.

I love it. I love it so much.

And it all starts now.

Other People's CNBC Disclosures

I don't remember when I stopped being embarrassed by infertility. It feels recent so maybe it's been in the past couple of years. I don't feel ashamed anymore. It's not my fault I'm not a mother. It's not my fault I wanted to be one. I navigated all that and eventually integrated it.

I feel more matter-of-fact about it now. I don't talk about it "in the wild" very much, but I don't shy away from it like I used to. It has led to some interesting connections with others.

There's a woman at work. She shared with me that she and her husband tried for years and it's not going to happen. She said they didn't do fertility treatments, and she was shocked to learn the low success rate for IVF.

Then there was another woman at work who was talking to another co-worker and me. She very casually said something about being infertile and I stopped the conversation. I asked, "You're infertile?" She said, "Yes." I said, "So am I." There was a pause and, if you can believe this, she simply said, "I see you." I appreciated that so much.

She saw me. What a kind thing to say. She didn't try to say something to make it better. She just acknowledged the facts that cannot change and sat with me.

Then a third person at work, this time a man (different from the one I wrote about here), shared that he and his wife don't have kids. I said something like, "Oh me neither, I can't have them" and he replied with, "Well, it's easier to say we don't want them than to know you can't have them." There was a slight pause. I felt the pain in that sentence. And then we talked about other things. Haven't talked about that since.

Why would we? We are at work. But having kids just comes up. Even when you don't have them.

Then, yes, a fourth example. These are all from work. 

(I really gotta get out more! Lol. Just kidding, I'm pretty tired after this year so I'm fine with working and going home for now. But that means all of my socialization comes from work though. Good thing I like my co-workers haha.)

I went to an organization-wide lunch and randomly sat next to someone I didn't know because she was diagonal from one of the few people that I did know. Everyone else seemed to know each other, and they were all visiting. The woman next to me was talking all about her nephews.

Then she turns to me and asks, "Do you have kids?" 

I was assuming this was going to be a situation where I said no and she turned her back to me, but I was wrong. I said no, and she said me neither. Then she said her nephews never call her or want to hang out anymore. I jokingly told her my niece and nephew very rudely grew up too. We agreed, in all seriousness, that being an aunt was overrated. Neither one of us have kids, and we are past the age of trying. All that at a work lunch while everyone else was chit chatting.

Interesting.

In my thirties I was surrounded by friends and family getting pregnant, having babies, and raising kids. In my forties all of those babies are now kids and teenagers. In my forties I've created a life that prioritizes my needs and interests over other families. That might sound strange, like an obvious thing to do, but it can be surprisingly hard with society's implicit expectations.

And now, instead of being constantly asked when I'm going to have kids, I attract conversations like these. Snippets of other people's childless not-by-choiceness (CNBC). 

Visiting My Friend (& Her Family)

Hello, hello, I'm still here. It's been a lot of working, sleeping, and moving-related stuff.

But two weekends ago I did something fun! I visited my best friend from college, her husband, and their three kids. I saw them a year and a half ago when my friend invited me on their family vacation. I was a little hesitant because it had been so long since we'd seen each other. But I went and it was fun! And now we live in the same state so we hope to see each other at least once a year. 

It's a different life though. A very different life. Her daughters are in elementary and middle school, and our time was spent dropping them off and picking them up from their various activities. My friend has a very serious and important job too, but I was there for a long weekend when she didn't have to go into the office. It really was incredible. She made dinner every night too.

I reminded myself that she's lived in her house for 9 years. She's raised kids for 14 years. She has her rhythms and routines that have evolved over the years. She's in the thick of things and it's like a juggling act that won't stop for 20 more years.

I wasn't sad to be immersed in her life. I love my friend, and (thank god) her kids are awesome. I like her husband too. I've known him almost as long as I've known my friend. I love where they live and going to visit them is like going on a little retreat. It's a vacation. With kids. Lol. We go do things, and I like to go to bakeries and get coffee and buy cookies for me and the girls.

But I was ready for home. I like my life. I loved my vacation, I loved seeing my friend, and I loved coming home. 

Then I got home and felt thrown off all week because I had spent the whole weekend out of town. I hadn't done my laundry or gone to the grocery store or had any downtime really. It's always one thing or another. We can't have everything.

Then I spent this weekend revising my research article. I put a lot of time into it and it was worth it. My draft is better than it's ever been. I am almost ready to resubmit it. That's my goal by the end of the month. I'm surprised it's still on my plate, but my new job and moving (twice) this past year interrupted a lot of my projects.

Next weekend I will chill! Unless something else comes up lol. But relaxing is what is planned.

Here are three pictures for you. The first two pictures are homegrown tomatoes and chickens at my friend's home. The third picture is a book I bought on vacation: Fairy Gardening 101. It's my new interest. I want to have plants and a vegetable garden, which is possible in my new backyard, but I'm going to start small by maintaining the landscaping that is already there...
And creating little fairy gardens here and there.

Moving Is A Long Process

I've been low-level cranky for the past several weeks. I've realized moving is traumatic and trauma is cumulative. Therefore, each move actually gets harder even when it's a positive thing. It does not get easier with time. It's just more disruption.

I am so incredibly thankful to have moved into a new home. I also don't think I am going to feel well for awhile. I accept this fact. It's part of the process. I mean, I haven't even eaten a homecooked meal at a dining room/kitchen table in over ten months. We gave our old table away to the thrift store before moving out of state.

Lately, my life has been only moving, working, and sleeping. That is not okay. I'm happy I moved, it's great to have a job, and I'm thankful I can sleep. But those three things do not make up a meaningful, enjoyable life by themselves. I need more. I want more. I deserve more.

Time to sew, time with friends, time to exercise.

I still think a little bit about what my life would be like if I was raising kids but not very often. I've created a completely new life for myself (a couple of times over!), so it's impossible to know what my life would be like as a mother. There's no value in even speculating. 

I'm living the life I have, and that's what is important. My life is valid and worthwhile.

And, on that note, I am going to cook! I haven't made any meals in the new place yet, and it's time to get that good energy goin' and flowin'. It's up to me to do what I can to feel better.

The graphic above was found on this post about cooking as a self-care ritual.

Thankful, Tired, & Couldn't Have Done It Without You

I haven't sewn. I haven't cooked. I haven't exercised. All three of these activities are very important ways that I take care of myself. I can tell I haven't done them in weeks.

However, we can't do everything, and what I have done is move! Yayyy. Glad to have that done!

Movers came last Saturday and moved all of the boxes and what little furniture we have. I took the whole week off of work and did an amazing job of balancing rest and getting shit done. I managed one major errand/task a day AND a nap. :)

I'm not kidding when I say that I literally slept for half of my PTO (paid time off) week. I honestly slept 9 - 10 hours a night with a 2 - 3 hour nap every day. I was that tired. I am so thankful I was able to take a week off before my body gave out or I had a mental break. Seriously. We all push ourselves so much, but our physical and mental health should not be taken for granted. 

I thought about my friends with kids and how they can't take a week off. But then I also remembered that their lives have nothing to do with mine. I am living MY life, not theirs. And my life has been constant upheaval and reinvention for over a decade. It's been tiring and I'm allowed to rest.

It was a year ago today (Sunday 8/24/2025) that I realized I had to move. I was going to lose my affordable health insurance. My three jobs weren't covering my bills and I didn't have it in me to add in a fourth. I needed to get somewhere more viable for the rest of my life. 

I didn't want to look for (and start!) a new job, and I didn't want to deal with moving. I didn't want to do any of it. Just like IUIs and IVF. Just like going back to school for a new career. Just like getting divorced, moving a million times, and enduring a pandemic. 

I didn't want to do any of it. 

I did it anyway. 

And I'm calling this the finish line.

I did it. I'm done. I have arrived. It's time to stop and smell the roses.

I created a life I want to live.

Most importantly, I love myself. I love myself so much. I look back at myself in the past and have so much compassion for all of my anxiety, depression, insecurity, and suffering. I'm so much kinder to myself now.

I also love my partner, my new home, my job, my cats, and my hobbies. I love the little things. I love tasty meals and nourishing conversations. I love moments of peace, and I love contentment. 

Stress never ends. Problems never stop. I know that. 

But my most recent marathon is over. 

I have grieved and integrated my losses. I restructured my life. I created a place for myself without my children in this world where I always thought I'd be a mom. It was no small task. There's a reason it took me over a decade. Even after years of blogging honestly, I still can't seem to put the whole experience into words. I haven't yet accurately described how completely disorienting it is to be childless not-by-choice.

So I moved. And moved and moved and moved. I moved away from what I didn't want and moved toward what I did want. And I think it's pretty safe to say that I won't move again for awhile. Of course, anything can happen. But I'm here now. Professional state licensure, state driver's license, vehicle registration, and I bought a house. I'm in a city. If I lose my job, there are others.
I can live my life here.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm unpacked and settled. It's only been a week.

In a way, my head is still spinning from the last ten years. I can barely process the last year alone.

So that's me. That's where I'm at. A tired pile of mush. Feeling overwhelmingly grateful. 

I get that nobody else in my life really understands what I'm feeling right now. It's a little lonely, but that's how it goes with infertility and involuntary childlessness. So thank you for reading this post and supporting me with your love, laughter, and commiseration all these years. 

We did it. We saved ourselves.

Pic found at https://www.vecteezy.com/free-photos/runner-finish-line