I know that 10% of women in America fight infertility. I’m in that 10%.

I know that it’s hard to talk about infertility. You get lumps in your throat as you are faced with reality.

I know what it’s like to try year after year after year only to be disappointed. We’re going on 6 years.

I know how hard it can be to go to baby showers and wish best wishes to those who seemed to never struggle. I’ve even helped give the showers.

I know how irritating it can be to have people ask, “When are y’all gonna have kids?” They honestly have no idea.

I know how upsetting it can be to have someone complain and make the comment, “Be glad you don’t have kids; it’s so tough.” I would rather have tough days with kids then tough days without.

I know what it’s like to plaster a smile on your face when someone elbows you and says, “You’re next!” when a new baby is introduced. They mean well but if only it were that easy.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not really even a grown women just because you still don’t have kids. There is just some conversations that you really can’t connect with yet.

I know how frustrating it is to fight PCOS. It’s affects 1 out of every 10 women in America. I am 1.

I know how embarrassing it can be to have to fight with the symptoms of PCOS and people wonder why you have excessive facial hair growth. Health issues can make things so much more difficult than they should be.

I know what it’s like to live with pain but yet you walk around like you’re okay — Pain in body and in spirit.

I know what it’s like to hold a friends new born baby and just cry. He was so perfect and handsome — my hearts desire.

I know what it’s like to be so hopeful right before the holidays because it would be there perfect time to get to announce to the family. Everyone would all be together and it would be so joyous.

I know what it’s like to rehearse in your head how you will announce your pregnancy. Seems like that day will never come.

I know what’s it’s like to receive a promise from God that you will have children. That was 5 years ago.

I know what’s it’s like to receive the call from the doctor and he tells you the undesired news. I will never forget that day.

I know how it feels to lay in the bed at night and just cry because you long to be woke up by a little one. That day will come — Faith.

I know how hard Mothers Day and Fathers day can be. Only those with infertility will understand.

I know what it’s like to watch your husband view video clips of baby announcements and gender reveals with such a longing in his eyes. This is one of the hardest things to see.

I know what it’s like to hold on to Faith even though it seems impossible. I’m still holding on.

I know. I understand. You’re not alone.