Exit Wounds

Today was another marker of healing and growth. I drove past the highway exit where I had all my infertility treatment. And I didn't want to burst in tears.

For 6+ months I made countless trips to our infertility doctor. Every time I exited 57N on Imperial Highway [actual picture], I was filled with some sort of emotion: fear, anxiety, hope, anticipation, curiosity. As I would approach this exit I could hardly believe this was a part of my story: receiving treatment from an infertility specialist so we could get pregnant. The old fashioned way of conceiving wasn't happening for us. We were healthy. We were young. We were watching all the signs and doing all the right things. And yet. I had to exit 57N at Lambert/Imperial Highway. Dozens of times. It seemed as if the wound only got bigger every time I exited to highway.

This drive wasn't just filled with emotion, it was filled with questions, pleas to God, worship music, silence, and holding hands with Brian.

Yet as I passed this infamous exit today, the wound wasn't nearly a big or raw or emotional. It still stung, but it was more like a scar than an open wound. I thought about more today about the healing a year brings. I thought about our 2 little ones in Ethiopia - likely our older was is born and the other is either a newborn or in utero. And I thought about the mysteries God's already revealed through our infertility. And the ones he's yet to reveal. And the mysteries he might never reveal in this life. I'm grateful and tender. 57N is no longer the exit wound it once was.


April L. Diaz

April has been a visionary activist her entire life. She has made it her mission to lead high performing teams and develop leaders in the margins of society while caring for our bodies, mind, and spirit. Secretly, she’s a mix of a total girly girl and a tomboy, and is still crazy about her high school sweetheart, Brian. Together, they co-parent 3 fabulous kiddos and live in Orange County, CA.