Don't.

Don't.

Don't tell me you can't imagine what it's like to struggle with infertility because you're right, you don't understand. It's struggling while suffering at the same time. Can you imagine that?

Don't tell me you feel sorry for me. I don't need pity, I need strength.

Don't tell me I'm not getting pregnant because I'm stressed. Last time I checked you don't have much of a medical background.

Don't tell me I have options and to look into adoption. You're telling me to give up and I don't take that lightly.

Don't tell me to be thankful for what's going "right" in my life. I'm well aware of what's right and I thank God every day.

Don't tell me infertility is getting the best of me. Don't mistake these tears for weakness.

Don't tell me I'm still young and time is on my side. How many more years of heartache do you think I can handle?

Don't tell me I'll be ok after having a miscarriage. I just lost a soul that I fell in love with the moment I was told I was pregnant.

Don't tell me to be happy when people announce their pregnancy. It's not about being unhappy. It's the hope that I can experience the same thing.

Don't tell me about your morning sickness, weight gain or swollen feet. I would kill to be in your shoes.

Don't tell me you were up all night thanks to your crying baby. I dream of a baby crying for me.

Don't tell me God won't give me more than I can handle. Next time you speak with him, tell him I'm about to hit my limit.

 Don't tell me "at least you have one child" when you yourself have multiple. I'd have to ask you which child of yours you can live without, and I'm not sure that's a question you're able to answer.

Don't tell me that my child doesn't need a sibling because she has cousins. A cousin isn't a sibling. I can't imagine life without one of my siblings. Is it so much to ask for my child to have the same thing in life?

Don't tell me that you understand. You don't.

Don't talk. Just listen.