The Cycle of Life:

A little egg

So meek

Awaits through the peak
Until the end of second week

Will wait and wait
For its soul mate
To penetrate

The little egg
Will beg

Please do not abstain
Waits but waits in vain

After the 14th day
The egg decides to go its way

No opportunity to mesh
To create a new life's flesh

Without a sprout
The little egg gets out

Some ache
Some burning
A lot of pain

Confined to bed
Tears are shed
In red

The little egg has been set free
From becoming one of me

Another youthful vibrant egg

Takes over the duty
Of creating a little beauty

The new anticipant little egg
Hopeful to with its soul mate peg

Feeling utterly revived
A new cycle has arrived

Telling the female apart
This is our innate art

/Maria Björnsdotter

Grey shocks, after such a blue summer.
The plot lines turn like the weather.
The arc of her narrative is too clean
like an indexed mirror.
She can see each slanted moment-
sharp and experimental.
It is a study of becoming a mother,
interrupted.

Throughout July they describe her as "unlucky",
as if it was as simple as not winning
a prize in a raffle,
or the sweater she wanted being sold out in her size.
In August, they chalk up the loss
to an unfortunate surprise
like unexpected house guests or
finding out she has less money than she thought in her
bank account.

Language does that, plays tricks,
veils meaning.
Limits the experience, chills
lures her to hide
deep inside it.

Told she is scarred, told she is a rare case
unusual
unfortunate
rare

She is left with the ache
the loud quiet, so quiet
it makes so much sound.

She was like clockwork

Every 28 days
First I would feel it in the shower
As the beams of water hit my chest
Then it would become obvious in the abdomen
And like clockwork she would appear full force
Heavy 3 days
Medium for 2
Light for 1
The only predictability now is that doesn't come
I still get the sore boobs, the dreadful cramps, the occasional blemish
But that's where it ends and begins again every 28 days
I've been told to adapt to what seems like menopause for a 33 year old
I have a closet full of pads
That will forever go unused
You're lucky, some tell me
No
I'm not
I can't successfully carry a baby to term
I can't slouch in a comfortable chair and caress my big belly in awe
Or be pampered at a shower while opening countless pastel blankets
Or be fawned over by smiling strangers, some who touch your belly 
without even asking simply because they can't control themselves
Or have that "glow" people mention
Or see that heartbeat on the TV
Or feel the kicks and hiccups
How I would kill to have those food aversions, heartburn, back pain, 
swollen ankles, 22 hours of labor!
I have not only been cheated out of all those beauties, and the added 
beauty of holding my newborn baby for the first time
I have been cheated of my womanhood
I walk around feeling damaged, less beautiful, different
Like my body is not normal
Like I'm not normal
It just feels like a loss of womanhood
And like any loss I go through grieving
From shock, to depression, to anger, to uncontrollable bouts of crying 
And while my wishes range from please no more surgeries after this 
one to no more months of hormones to no more HSGs, to no more 
inconvenient trips to the doctor, to no more out of pocket expenses, 
to no more explanations of what exactly asherman's is and how I got 
it and what I'm doing about it, to no more disappointing news after 
all these years, 
Sometimes, all I want to feel right again
to feel like a woman again
is to just get my period.

- by Tara Reifenheiser

A simple operation has ruined what was mine.
It has changed my life, not for the better.
But for the worse, I am angry, I am sad,
I wish for an explanation, 
that I will never get.

I am a survivor, I am still alive, 
I may be broken, 
but I cannot be tossed aside, 
Like a broken toy. 

- by Belinda C Timmins

When you think of courage, 

Most people think of running into a burning building 
To save somebody's life 
Or fighting in your country's war 
To preserve your rights and freedoms.

But courage to me has a new arena, 
A new meaning. 

Courage is ttc another time after months or years of trying. 
Courage is confronting a Dr. who has caused you so much pain. 
Courage is going for another round of IVF when the last three times have failed. 
Courage is telling your spouse the test is negative…again. 
Courage is enduring another Mother's Day with no child in your arms. 
Courage is attending your friend's baby shower. 
Courage is enduring the physical pain every month. 
Courage is coming along side other Asherman sufferers and holding their hands. 
Courage is educating the public on Asherman's Syndrome. 
Courage is fighting your insurance company for your rights. 
Courage is visiting your sister's new baby in the hospital. 
Courage is trying to get pregnant again after several miscarriages or stillbirths. 
Courage is seeing old friends and answering the question, "So how many kids do you have now?" 
Courage is telling your child why they can't be a big brother or big sister. 
Courage is listening to your friend recount their "perfect" birth experience. 
Courage is feeling your loss deeply and not becoming bitter. 
Courage is acknowledging your grief but not being overcome by it. 
Courage is living your life fully even when you feel like something is missing. 
Courage is embracing life in the midst of your pain. 
Although we may never know the answers to all of our "Whys?" we can be assured that our courage is molding and strengthening our character. Excercising your courage is making you a better person.

- by Amy Helmuth

I am wearing a pair of shoes 
They are ugly shoes 
uncomfortable shoes 
I hate my shoes 
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair. 
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I 
do not think I can take another step. 
Yet, I continue to wear them 
I get funny looks wearing these shoes 
They are looks of sympathy 
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad 
they are my shoes and not theirs 
They never talk about my shoes 
To learn how awful my shoes are 
might make them uncomfortable 
To truly understand these shoes 
you must walk in them 
But once you put them on, you can never take them off 
I realize that I am not the only one 
who wears these shoes 
There are many pairs in the world 
Some woman are like me and ache 
daily as they walk in them 
Some have learned how to walk in them 
so that they don't hurt quite so much 
Some have worn the shoes so long 
that days will go before they think 
about how much they hurt. 
No woman deserves to wear these shoes 
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman 
These shoes have given me strength 
to face anything 
They have made me who I am 
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child. 

- Author Unknown 

Set me free, you wish and plead 
But the moment of hope, puts you back in greed 
You see a little crack, looks like a glimpse of light 
You focus, you persevere, and you make sure it is not out of sight 
You follow the path with all your vigor and might 
You keep pushing the envelope; you are in for a trap 
You follow your gut, you follow your instinct 
That is all you need for a little help. 

The more close you get, it seems the light has gone 
Move on, carry on, and don't let this defeat put you down 
You keep moving from one faint light to another 
Every time it vanishes, you feel it is hard to put together 
Is this time right to surrender, you wonder! 
Thanking that it was good but now it is over 
You need courage to be tough 
But you need all the strength in the world to say enough is enough. 

They say, always have a dream, whether big or low 
Reality hits hard when your dreams don't grow 
Some dream teaches you a lesson 
Some teaches your worth, yet other teaches pain 
How do you say good bye to your dream 
With failure, resentment or despair 
Or with the feeling of success and a kind of experience that is rare 
Or cherish the teachings of a dream that you cared 

If you had a broken dream one or two 
You understand that I am not new 
I don't know how but I'll figure out a way 
Show me a new path, a new way 
That I ask God, every day I pray

- by Shyamly

There are women who become mothers without effort,
without thought,
without patience or loss,
and though they are good mothers and love their children,
I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics or money or because I have read more books,
but because I have struggled and toiled for this child. 

I have longed and waited. 

I have cried and prayed. 

I have endured and planned over and over again. 

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams. 

I will notice everything about my child. 

I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore, and discover. 

I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life. 

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold, and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. 

My dream will be crying for me. 

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child. 

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love. 

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. 

I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend, and sister because I have known pain. 

I know disillusionment, as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell that many never face, yet given time, I stood tall. 

I have learned a compassion that only comes by walking in those shoes. 

I have learned to appreciate life. 

Yes, I will be a wonderful mother. 

-Author Unknown