I can’t have children.
When we first started trying, my husband, Ethan, held me through every negative pregnancy test. He would pull me close, press his lips to my forehead, and say, “We’ll try again,” like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But after the fourth failed treatment, something shifted.
We stopped talking about baby names. The nursery we’d spent a whole Sunday afternoon planning just became the storage room again.
I can’t have children.
The subject of children became something we just didn’t touch anymore.