Dear friend,
I have wanted to write you this letter for a while, but haven’t been able to find the words until recently—mostly because I don’t want to offend. But please, don’t think for a moment that I don’t often think of the struggles y’all are facing.
Each time I post a picture on Facebook or get excited about our progress, I think of you and your aching heart. I wonder if I should hide the pictures from you in order to shield you from any unnecessary pain. Or I think about how even if I hid it from you, what about the others? I know so many couples struggle with this and so what if there is someone like you on my friends list dealing with the heartaches and intense emotions that infertility brings, yet I do not know. I don’t want for one second a picture or post that I share be the reason their soul…your soul…crashes that day. I don’t want anything I do to be a painful reminder of what you don’t have, but so desperately want.
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And so with that, I don’t blame you if you have hidden me from your newsfeed. And i don’t blame you for being unable to celebrate with us. I’m not quite sure what I would do if I were in your shoes. I ask myself if I would I be able to handle seeing something I want so badly constantly be given to what seems like everyone else. And honestly, I don’t know. But what I do know is that you handle this better than I ever could. Your strength, while for an unfair reason, constantly makes me evaluate mine. Your constant grace, and unwavering faith, shows me where I lack and areas I need to grow in. You inspire me. Did you know that? I bet you didn’t because I have never told you, but I think I should more often.
I want so badly to fix this for you; to take this pain you carry away. I realize that because I don’t have a solution, this often leads me to give you advice that you have already tried, or give an encouraging speech that I hoped would lift your spirits but didn’t. And it’s because of all the times my words have caused you more pain than hope, I am sorry. I just don’t know what else to do sometimes. But what I am learning is that I don’t have to do anything. I just need to be there for you and listen.
So instead of offering you advice you have heard a million times, or encouraging words that don’t seem so encouraging, or tiptoeing around what to say or what not to say, I offer to you my silence in the form of my shoulder for you to cry on. I offer to you my time when you need to just vent, not figure out a solution. And I offer to you a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies when you simply just want to curl up and not pretend to be okay after seeing yet another negative pregnancy test. But most of all, friend, I offer up my prayers because deep down I know He is hearing…and He is answering. I just wish, like you, He would hurry and answer sooner.
I love you. I care for you. And I’m always here for you.
Forever your friend and forever by your side,
Cait
