I’m so happy for you! (and sad for me…)

When Nick and I started attending our church, we got plugged into a small group. The group was… very small. It started with us and two other couples. Eventually, our group started to grow, and so did our circle of church friends. However, we still felt slightly alone or out of place in our group. Every couple in that group had kids. Everyone except us. We loved everyone in our group and their children. But often, it felt hard to relate. 

One year during the holidays, we had our annual “Friendsgiving.” A new couple was visiting our group that night. Nick and I sat and talked with them for a while. (For privacy, I will be changing their names.) We’ll call them Frank and Joanna. The four of us laughed each time another couple or group member approached them and introduced themselves to Frank and Joanna. They’d ask the same questions, and the couple would give the same answers. “What’s your name?” “So, where are you guys from?” It was like a script they recited over and over. One of the best parts about this couple joining our group was… they didn’t have kids!

Frank and Joanna continued to attend our small group. Joanna also joined my small discipleship group, or small group of women. During our meetings, she openly shared that she had two siblings. I also have two siblings. She also shared that one of her siblings has autism. Hang on! My sister has autism! She then shared that she had PCOS. I have PCOS! 

I never really mentioned my PCOS or talked about my infertility. I am pretty open about some things, but other things I tend to keep to myself. Keeping things hidden can make for a lonely existence. But this person and I had so much in common! Maybe she goes through some of the same things I am going through. This was someone I knew I wanted to get close to.

I am a pretty shy person. People often comment that I am quiet. Initiating interactions with others is sometimes hard for me. Even as a kid, I had a hard time inviting friends over to my house to play. Here I was, like a big kid, trying to get the courage to ask a friend over! I remember telling Nick that I wanted to be Joanna’s friend. “Do you think I should ask her out to coffee or something?” I remember being super nervous. Thanks to my husband’s encouragement, I hit send. To my excitement, Joanna said yes! 

Joanna and I continued to have coffee dates and lunch dates. We learned about each others’ families. We talked about our siblings with autism and our similar experiences. But I still had yet to mention to her that we both had PCOS. I was still afraid to open that part of myself up to someone. 

On one of our lunch dates, I decided I was finally going to do it. I was going to bring up the subject. We were going to grab lunch, then walk around downtown. As we looked over menus, Joanna nonchalantly commented that she would be eating for two. She looked up from her menu and smiled. “I’m pregnant.” 

I smiled and shared her excitement. “Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” Outwardly, I shared her joy. I did inwardly too. Having a baby is always an exciting thing. At the same time, I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. As we walked downtown and looked in the various shops and boutiques, I couldn’t help but feel taunted by cute baby items we found. I was alone again. I didn’t even have a chance to tell her how lonely I was. 

One of my best friends, Katherine, and I talk regularly over an app called Marco Polo (name changed for privacy). If you’ve never used it, I describe it like a more sophisticated or grown-up version of Snapchat. We have known each other since college. Though we lived states apart, we still maintained our friendship and were very close. 

A few months after Joanna told me she was pregnant, over Marco Polo, Katerhine excitedly announced to me that she was pregnant. “Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” I put on my smile and rejoiced with her. She told me about her appointments and kept me updated with things going on in her pregnancy. I appreciated, though, that we were still able to talk about other things happening in our lives as well. 

But that knot started to grow in the pit of my stomach again. I really was happy for her. She was one of my best friends. I couldn’t wait to meet her baby. But I was also sad. Nick and I had been married for years and had been trying to have a baby for almost as long. Katherine was married for not even a year, and she was already pregnant. 

I got on Marco Polo. Through tears, I told her what I had to say. I felt close enough to her and comfortable enough to say it. “I am happy. I am so excited for you. I can’t wait to meet your little guy. I can’t wait to be ‘Aunt Jessica.’ But… I’m also sad.”

Having infertility comes with complicated emotions. Of course when our friends become pregnant, we want to be there for them. We want to support them. We are so excited. We can’t wait to hold that sweet baby. Me, I am the type of person who runs to the store and buys all the yarn and makes baby blankets for people. 

But alongside the joy comes the sadness and the grief. There is so much frustration and pain in the waiting. When is it going to be my turn? There is no one or the other. It is both and. I shared all of this with Katerthrine through tears. We both agree, it is perfectly acceptable to cry over Marco Polo! At first, she was worried that she had been insensitive. I assured her, she was in no way insensitive. I just had these mixed emotions swirling around that needed to be let out. I needed to be seen.

One night, a couple of months later, Nick was at work. I was at home, and he called me. “So, I just got off the phone with Ellen.” (Name changed for privacy.) Ellen is Nick’s younger sister. She got married a few years prior. “They are expecting,” Nick told me. I said nothing. I sat in silence. “Jess? You okay?” I then started to bawl. What should be exciting news- I was going to be an aunt!- was devastating at that moment. 

In the midst of my friends Joanna and Katherine, and now my sister-in-law, Ellen, all being pregnant, I felt more alone than ever. But I was still supportive. I crocheted a blanket and hat for Katherine’s baby. My niece was spoiled beyond repair. Nick complained about the amount of yarn taking over our apartment. 

While I ended up not giving Joanna a homemade gift, I was involved in planning her baby shower. I helped design the table center pieces. Another friend and I worked on the cake. Well, she made the cake, but I made my first figurine out of fondant for the first time ever! I was pretty proud of how it turned out! 

Of course I wanted to be supportive and love on my sweet friends and family and their babies, even if it was hard and I was sad. I held onto the hope that someday God would open my womb and it would be my turn. I held onto the hope that someday I’d have my own baby. Then, in May of 2025, I learned that I have endometrial cancer. 

After more imaging and tests, we learned that the cancer was growing in my uterine wall and was about 28% of the way through. If it made it all the way through, the cancer would have access to spread to my neighboring organs. The initial recommendation was to do a hysterectomy. This would mean I wouldn’t be able to carry my own baby. After waiting so long, the thing I wanted most was at stake! 

The doctor knew that we wanted a family, so she gave us the option to try to treat the cancer first to see if we could save my uterus. At least long enough to have a baby. There is a 50% chance for uterine cancer to come back, so ultimately, I do have to have a hysterectomy. 

For the last year and a half, I have dealt with weight gain, moodiness, hot flashes, and sweating from my progesterone therapy. I have had three d&c’s and am getting ready for my fourth. I have dealt with constant bleeding and cramping for months on end from my IUD. I have endured all of this with the hopes that maybe I could still have a baby. I keep praying for God to open my womb. While holding onto hope, I am also preparing myself for the worst. We are fighting as hard as we can, but there is the chance that treatment may not be successful and I may not have the baby of my dreams. 

Nick and I are friends with another couple- Joice and Ryan (names changed for privacy). We met at church and started hanging out a year later. We still laugh about how long it took us to start hanging out, but once we did, we became very close. They also did not have children. Within the last year or so, they felt God calling them into campus student ministry at a university. They quit their jobs, packed up, and moved three hours away. We miss them dearly. 

One day, Joice asked if we could set up a video call to catch up! It was so good to see their faces and hear their voices. During the call, Joice said, “I know you’ve been going through a lot with the cancer. I want to be sensitive, but I also want to let you know that we’re expecting. We’re due in October.” 

Of course, as always, I was happy for her! I thanked her for being considerate of my feelings and assured her that both Nick and I were excited. I genuinely felt excited. I had been fighting cancer for so long, I think at that moment, my brain understood that people were still going to have babies and that things would be a little harder for me right now. My brain had accepted that fact.

I dug through my yarn collection from the summer before. I had plenty of leftover pink yarn, so I got to work. I made a little bib and matching baby booties. I made a hat with bear ears. I also crocheted a cute little pig stuffie. She had a baby shower coming up, and I didn’t want to show up empty handed. 

I love to crochet. I love being able to love other people with baby blankets and gifts. But as I sat on the couch and crocheted, I couldn’t help but feel waves of sadness. There it was. That sad and happy feeling. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I cried a time or two. I have been waiting for the day when I would get to crochet cute little booties and bibs for my own baby. Cancer makes the fear of that never happening all too real. 

At my last oncology appointment, the doctor said the longer we treat the cancer, the harder it will be to get rid of. That thought makes me nervous. I am worried after all of this time that I might not have a baby in the end. I worry that I will be forever cursed to feel the happy-sad feelings when other people have babies.

Maybe if you’re reading this and you’re going through infertility, you can relate to these feelings. But it is important for us not to stay stuck in a rut. The world is not going to stop just because I have cancer. I can’t put everyone on hold and tell them to stop having babies just because I can’t have one and may not ever have one. 

Life is going to move on without us. It is okay to be sad, or sad-happy, or mad, or frustrated. However, we need to do what we can to live life to the fullest. 1 Corinthians 10:31 says, “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.” How can we bring glory to God in our infertility and grief? Keep making the baby blankets. Keep helping with the baby showers. Keep loving the people God has placed in your life! We can’t love others if we sit and wallow in our own self-pity.

What if you’re reading this and you’re the one with kids or who is pregnant? How can you bring glory to God when interacting with your sisters with infertility? How can you love someone who’s feeling both happy and sad? I can’t speak for everyone with infertility, but for me, I want to be seen and I want to feel included. 

It is so easy to feel alone. It is often hard to relate to people who have kids. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about them. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about your pregnancy. I want to make the baby blanket. I want to help with the baby shower. I want to know your needs and how I can help you. And of course, I want to hold that baby!

Please also know that I am sad. It is okay to be sensitive and say, “I know this is hard for you,” or give hugs and words of comfort. I know I have mentioned him before, but the saying is so true! In the words of John Delony, “Grief demands a witness.” Sit with me and hear my story. Get to know my heart. Matthew 18:20 says, “Where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them.” When we sit with each other and love one another, even through our fertility struggles, we get to share the glory of God.

We are still holding onto hope that my cancer will soon be gone! Once the cancer is gone, I will be seeing a fertility specialist to continue my fertility journey. We’d love your continued support in this fight and on this journey. In most states, insurance companies are not required to cover fertility treatment. Our next part of our journey will have to be paid for out of pocket! A round of IVF for example can cost $15,000 to $20,000! Thankfully, my sweet sister-in-law started a GoFundMe campaign for us to help with medical bills and fertility treatments. Follow me on social media and check out future blog posts as I share my story. Breast cancer seems to get all the attention in the media. But not all cancer is pink! My aim is to share my story and bring awareness beyond the pink ribbon.