Needing some prayers


Here I am again, staring at a blank page. I’m not really sure how to even begin because that’s exactly how I feel; BLANK. On the morning of August 2, one year and two days after my last positive pregnancy test, I finally was staring down on two little pink lines. This time was different than the last three times I received a positive result. After two losses and months and months of negative tests, those two little pink lines instilled a great fear in me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a tad bit of hope, but mostly I was terrified. What if I lose this one too? Will Annie ever really get to be a big sister? I think I feared most because after so long, there was finally some hope that she would, and I wasn’t sure how I’d survive if that hope was yet again, as it has been every time, crushed. 

Why can’t I be one of those women who pees on a stick, calls her husband to share the news, and goes on in excitement not even thinking that there could be anything other than a baby at the end of nine months? I would love to be that girl. I never will. Whether or not I am ever given the great gift of becoming a mother for a second, or hopefully fourth or fifth, time, I will never get to face a pregnancy without fear. 

It’s been a very, very difficult year for my little family of three. Adjusting to a move from abroad. Starting that year with the loss of a pregnancy. Endless fertility appointments and treatments. Our basement flooding three times. I have distanced myself from friends. I have let myself become bitter in this endless obstacle course to fulfill my dreams of another child. I have lost my faith, regained it, and lost it again. I have felt broken and helpless and at fault. The obstacles and loneliness of infertility are impossible to describe. It weathers a marriage. It controls your life. It crushes dreams. Friends stop calling because they don’t know what to say and are probably tired of hearing the same sad news. 

This weekend I lost this pregnancy. After my first miscarriage, I went into a state of complete sadness. After my second, a state of anger. Now, probably because I was so scared this would happen, all I feel is numbness. I feel like I am drowning in hopelessness. 

When we found out I was pregnant, all I could do was pray that we were starting this year out differently than the last. A year ago I was experiencing this very same thing. I have no words to describe my pain. All I know is that I don’t want this year to be like our last. I need to find a way to move forward without fear, without bitterness, with hope. 

Infertility has brought so much sadness and negativity into my life, but it has also taught me so much and brought along some positive things too. I never for one second take Annie for granted. She is my greatest gift and my miracle. Having such a hard time giving her a sibling, has made me more grateful than ever that she made it here. I squeeze her harder and treasure every second knowing I might not get to do this again. When you lose something, it makes you appreciate the things you have that much more. A friend once said to me as I was crying to her over the phone about how hard the infertility has been, “I am so worried about you, and I am so worried that Annie has to see you so sad all the time.” This is something no one in my life should ever worry about. My daughter brings so much joy, it would be impossible to shed a tear in front of her. When I am with her the sadness disappears. I sometimes get sad playing with her or watching her play and picturing her playing with her siblings I can’t seem to get here for her, but that’s about it. Annie has been my greatest rock, she keeps me going. 

My experiences with infertility have deepened my friendships. When you share hardships with someone, it is amazing the support that is provided. The understanding that nothing can be said, but sometimes a silent moment on the phone can mean so much. When overcome by loneliness, these friends let you know you are not alone. I wish my friends and my sister that have experienced this, and some of them for so much longer than myself, didn’t have to. I wish I could wish every single one of their losses and struggles away. But knowing that I am not alone and that I have someone to talk to who really understands, gets me through the hardest times and helps me to move forward. I am forever indebted to their support and love and deep understanding. 

Though infertility has brought great challenges to my marriage, it has also brought me closer to my husband. Mike can attest that over the years there have been plenty of times that our infertility has caused great distance between us. But it also always brings us back, and each time it brings us closer than before. We share everything. And sharing heartache and devastation and hopelessness builds unbreakable bonds. We are able to move forward by also sharing dreams and hope and the joy of Annie. We hold each other up and give each other the strength to keep going. Michael, I love you so much, I don’t know what I would do without you. 

My goals this year will be different than the last, and I hope this helps to bring a better year and future. My number one goal last year was to get pregnant, to give Annie a sibling. Our due date would’ve been April 8, 2015, one week after Annie’s 4th birthday. I can’t focus on what’s not happening and what I have no control over. I will survive and move forward focusing on all the gifts that are already here, and there are so many.


Thank you for reading, thank you for your support, and, as always, accepting all prayers.


10 responses »

  1. Collen, there are so many things that make you the beautiful, young woman that you are. And one of the most compelling is your ability to talk about the hardest things with such grace. I will keep all of you in my prayers, with earnest. Just trust your faith.. that HE will bring you through.
    Love you, Aunt Mickey

  2. Colleen – my heart just breaks for you and there aren’t any magic words to take away your fear and pain. The hardest thing to do is to “let go and let God” – although that is what we are all supposed to do. In my life, I have found it nearly impossible to “let go” at times, but when I can, God showers me with Peace. He wants us to trust Him – with everything – unconditionally. I will be praying for you and your family. I think you have the correct goals in mind for this next year – focusing on what gifts you already have here. 🙂

  3. Colleen, Mike, and Annie:

    I want to say the “best”, “right”, “most uplifting” words, but sometimes you just say “aw, crap” or “why the hell is this happening, God? These are nice people who are good parents and all they want is another baby!” Those are the words I’m saying.

    Just know that all the Snyder’s are pulling for your family and we are sending you strength and patience and forebearance (I don’t think that’s a word, but it should be.)

    All of us love all of you!

    Betsy & Jon and Elaina & Aidan

  4. Colleen – Words can’t describe the admiration I have for you and the awe you leave me in on a daily basis. You have so much courage – I look at what you’ve been through and i doubt that I could do what you do and maintain all the love, joy, and hope that you so often write about. My mother lost a child before me and she struggles with that pain even until this day, 27 years later… but the love she has shown me has always made me feel like such a blessing, and I know Annie will grow up with that too. I’m so glad you know you’re not alone. In times like these I like to remember this quote: “In the end, everything will be alright. If everything isn’t alright, then it’s not the end.” Just know it’s not the end for your family. Thank you for your stories and your honesty!

  5. My heart breaks in two for your journey and struggles and yet feels so familiar and similar. You aren’t alone in your pain or devastation- we all look different and yet our lives all are marked with tragedy and trauma and broken in some way. I’m not sure that helps and I would love to talk in depth about all of this with you- always have felt close to you and yet not sure why. Maybe it’s your ability to be raw and exposed and so loving and kind- it’s a gift you have. Sending you strength from afar.

  6. Colleen, I am so very sorry for your pain. I will pray for you. Please let me know if I can do anything for you.

    Momma Brown

  7. Colleen, I’m so sorry to hear this news; I know it’s been such a long, hard road for you guys. You are in my thoughts and please let me know if there is anything I can do. I know the sadness you’re dealing with and I truly hope that your dreams are fulfilled in time. XOXOXO

  8. Sending you love and hugs. Thank you for sharing your struggles. It is so hard to want something so badly and for something else out there in the universe deciding it’s not to be, or at least not now. Thinking about you and your family lots.

  9. Colleen, I don’t know how or why these things happen. I only know that you are an example of love, dedication and perfect parenting to all of us. We love you, we suffer with you and Mike, we know what a gift Annie is, and we will pray for you!

  10. Although you and I have never met (I went to school with Mike) I feel as though we have a connection. I, too wish I could be an oblivious person who gets pregnant and doesn’t ever give “what if” a thought in the world. After a relatively easy time getting pregnant with our first, giving her a sibling has been less that easy. After a miscarriage, a year of trying and yet another miscarriage I was feeling hopeless. I couldn’t imaging my daughter growing up am only child, and all I wanted was to give her the best thing I thought parents could give their children… A sibling… We tried for a year an a half after the last loss, did all of the fertility stuff, and nothing. I came to the realization that maybe a sibling isn’t the best gift we could give her. I began to refocus all of the energy that I was putting into thinking and trying to get pregnant, into her. To make a long story short, we did see 2 lines again…. And all those fears came back. We are 20 weeks now, but not a second goes by that “what if” isn’t in my mind. I am so thankful for the blessings that we have, and I pray with you that you will once again find peace and see the pink lines.

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