Can you measure suffering in tears?

My good friend K has had a hard life so far. Part of it has been her own doing, part of it has been because of her struggle with depression, part of it has been being part of a sorta-dysfunctional family, and part of it has been simply circumstance. Though she went to a top college, she was a film major, and has never found (or even pursued very diligently) a job in her field. Instead, she is 29 and has worked at one of a couple of mall stores for most of her post-college life. She lives with her mom, who is about to lose their house because of money problems. She would like to live on her own, but can’t afford it. Her parents recently got divorced, and her dad lost his job several months ago. She has had two serious relationships, both of which ended badly. She still keeps messages from her ex-boyfriends on her cell phone because she can’t bear to delete them. She has struggled with weight. She is constantly feeling bad about herself because she has never measured up to what she or other people hoped she would become. I consider her to be a beautiful woman with a natural gift for making others feel good about themselves and a genuinely kind heart, but she has a hard time believing that.

When I look at myself through K’s eyes (which isn’t hard to do, because she is constantly tossing warm fuzzies my way), I see a woman who has just about everything—a supportive, stable family; a modest but comfortable house; a loving husband; a good job in my field; a strong faith in God; the motivation to get things done when they need to be done and enough money in the bank to cover us when shit happens.

K doesn’t wish me any ill, and she doesn’t resent me for how my life has turned out. I’m not being arrogant when I say that I think K wishes she could be a little more like me (she’s told me as much). Consequently, she’s often the first person I call when I’m feeling down, because I feel like I need to prove to her that my life is not all sunshine and roses.

If I were K (and to clarify, she would never say this; she’s too good of a friend), I would say that it’s about time I had to deal with some real heartache.

This is all a long way of saying that I fear we haven’t suffered nearly enough in our quest for a baby. That getting a BFP next week is just too much to ask for. Pregnancy on our first cycle of Femara (albeit after three excruciating cycles of Clomid)? Come on, are you joking?

I have had what I consider to be dark spots in my life: When I was flatly rejected by the sorority that had accepted all my friends (I thought it confirmed I was an unlovable person who would have a miserable social life in college). When the man whom I thought I was going to marry broke up with me the fall after I graduated from college (I had no idea how I was going to handle being a “swingin’ single” in her 20s). When I spent eight unemployed months desperately searching for a job after I married M and moved to Wisconsin.

But I’m not sure I have ever really suffered. I haven’t yet had to deal with the death of a close loved one, and I’ve never wondered how I can possibly live another day. If I were K, I would say that 15 months TTC is not enough, and that perhaps I need to feel what it’s like to wait years for what I want.

Then again, suffering is not necessarily measured in time. As I have said before, I’ve known for a long time that I would be infertile. So I guess, in a way, I’ve suffered for a decade or more. While other couples have had joyful anticipation at the beginning of TTC, we never did. It was all dread from the moment we got married.

So, have I met my suffering quota? I hope so. I’m not sure if I necessarily “deserve” to get pregnant right now, but when has God restricted blessings to those who deserve it? Aren’t we all undeserving in the end?