Abstract
This article is a personal storied look at how infertility changed me and what that has meant to me communicatively and thus interpersonally. This part of my life story takes on facets of the grief that comes with barrenness, chronicles the search for a new integrated identity within the confines of stigma, and examines the transformation and ritual that have palliated this quest. This story does not spur answers or fix anything, neither does it teach someone how or how not to act or react to the infertile. It is written to resonate, to share a lived experience, to be a dialogue between reader and writer.
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