My Barren Fruit

"You're just unlucky, twice." Those were the words from my OB/GYN. They were followed by, "We don't start testing until you've had three."  My heart sank . Sucking the last little hope I had. My doctor wasn't going to help me until I had another confirmed miscarriage. Our baby made it to 13 weeks but only measured 9 weeks, meaning it took my body that long to start the process of miscarrying. The reason we went to the hospital was spotting. I was horrified. My doctor would stand on the sidelines while I suffered this traumatic experience, again. A miscarriage, no matter at what point it occurs (because a woman's body instantly changes her hormones even if you don't notice), is still hard.  I've avoided the topic of doctors for a reason. I lost faith in them! Two years after my first miscarriage, I found a fertility specialist nearby and scheduled an appointment. These people, it was rumored, could nearly guarantee  a viable pregnancy.

I haven't forgotten you.   When I had the purpose in my heart to create this blog, I was broken and barren. Many of you can all too easily relate. I stopped blogging intentionally. January 2015 held a blessing for my husband and I. Our healthy baby boy was born in September that year.  I ached to share God's immense blessing. But knowing all too well the trials, us barren have faced, I couldn't bring myself to. Not to barren women whose greatest grief was to never know their own children.  Barren Fruit has always settled in the back of my mind, nagging at me. There are hurting women who could use encouragement as I wish I had during my struggle. They don't need placid comments, "Time will heal", "Your time will come" ,"It'll be okay", and the worst: "I'm sorry" . All the off-hand "sentiments" people say with the apathetic pat on the arm. No. They never helped me and I know of other barren whom stated the