One day, after years of struggling with a diagnosis, with the emotional and physical ups and downs of treatments, exploring family-building options, and learning to protect your heart, you will realize that you have made it to the other side of the mountain that you climbed, that now you are on a winding path taking you further away with every step. 

In the throws of my grief, at my lowest points, I might not have believed that I would ever feel like infertility is behind me. My (potentially indefinite) childlessness consumed my every thought. The hole I had fallen into was so dark, the idea of the light above seemed like a fantasy, like I may never be able to climb back out and see that light again. 

Change began gradually. As I offered my vulnerable self to more people, opening up about what I was experiencing, how I was feeling, the darkness, down in my hole, under my cloud, started to feel less lonely. I realize now that while many people would look down into the hole and wish me well, others would climb down to give me a hug or sit for a while, and a few completely threw themselves into the darkness, where they stayed with me almost every day. My husband, parents, a few members of my tribe - every day I could feel their presence. 

I wanted to see the light, wanted so badly to climb out of the darkness. My supporters didn't rush me, didn't give me "helpful" suggestions for how to look on the bright side, didn't push me into climbing before I was ready. I talked to them and my therapist about what I was feeling, and further processed my emotions by journaling, sometimes writing to the babies I lost. I began a practice of gratitude, trying to appreciate the things I do have in life, rather than focusing completely on what is missing, the gap that may never be filled. I would intentionally do more of the things that I loved, that were fun, challenging, fulfilling. I started meditating, a daily practice of being present, acknowledging thoughts and watching them drift away. I began to plan my vision quest. 

I was encouraged to allow myself to fully feel, to not push away the sadness, anger, jealousy, but allow it to flow through me. Amazingly, letting those feelings simply be shifted the way I experienced them. I still felt them deeply and often felt guilt for experiencing them in the first place, but it was as if I had broken up the dam within myself that had been built by resisting those emotions, and now the river could flow freely. 

I savored the positive moments, feelings of joy, happiness, gratitude. Sometimes it would be fleeting, but I was more aware, recognizing those moments and appreciating them when they came. They began to appear more and more frequently, and the negative emotions lessened. Now, I have had days where I realize that I haven't thought about my infertility or my losses at all, a far cry from the days when I could think of nothing else.

A month or so after I returned from my vision quest, I realized that I didn't feel like I was climbing the mountain anymore. I was on the other side, looking back at it, walking away from it. Some days (or weeks or months), I find myself on a path that has backtracked, taking me halfway up that mountain again, but I am able to keep moving forward, always one step closer to the day when the mountain range of my experiences will be distant behind me, and I will be in awe of the ground I have covered. 

To those struggling with infertility, this is not your forever. One day, you will look back and realize that you did it, you climbed and descended this mountain. Until then, take care of yourself, allow yourself to feel everything you feel, and find small ways to bring joy back into your life. You will make it to the other side.