Hello from Destinations Unknown

Where do you go when you go beyond hopelessness? Where do you end up when you pass by the dashed hopes, the unknown fears, the hope against hope moments and all the stages of grief, only to realize that grief still resides in every single fiber of your being? What’s the place you find yourself when you’re no longer a novice and when all the mystery of the situation has been stripped away? Where is this place that seems to only have you at its single citizen? This place which is barren, fruitless, infertile and a huge bundle of constant and unchanging loss and sadness?

What do you call the place you reach when you’ve reached the end of your rope? Where you’re surrounded by little humans who are thriving and growing and continuously reminding you of your missed opportunities, lost pregnancies, and failed fertility cycles? Where they serve as markers of how old your children would have been had they become children? How do you name a place past purgatory, past hell and past anything that has already been labeled-this place you’ve called home for so long that everything else has faded away and been forgotten?

Where is this place?

I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it here where I am imprisoned. I don’t know what to call my normal-a state that will never feel normal or acceptable to me. I don’t know how to describe a person who’s gotten past alarm, hurt, fear, anger, resentment and outrage, while still feeling every single one of these feelings constantly and vividly. Words, names and labels seem so insufficient right now.

I am past my initial shock of being called infertile, and yet shocked beyond belief that I’m still here. I am past my innocent ignorance of the past, but just as baffled as I was four long years ago at the beginning of this agonizing journey. I am past anger, and yet stewing in anger and pain. I am past denial, and yet I find denial to reside in every cell of my infertile body. I am past resentment- resentment of the cruelty of life, of other women and their babies, and of my own uncooperative body- and yet resentment has not left my side for a single minute of any of my recent years. I am past confusion, but f@&k if I’ve gained a single clue as to how to deal with the weight, depth and vastness of this misery. I am past anger, and yet I seem to have made a best friend out of anger and we visit each and every day. I am past being lost, but lost is the perfect way to describe me.

So, where is this place? What’s it called? Is it fit for habitation? If so, where the hell are all the other people who’ve been through years of grief and loss and multiple medical interventions without a baby or any hope that one will be on its way soon? Am I here alone? It feels like it. It feels like I reside on Mars. That’s how alien and alone this place feels.

And all I want to know right now is what the hell in this place called?

F@&k if I know…

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About Atilovesparis

I am one with many faces, states and moods. I am a liberal progressive and an old fashion romantic. I am an aspiring writer and a mother-in-waiting. I am a Francophile. I am not defined by what I do for a living, but by my goals, thoughts, ideas, hopes, views, experiences and accomplishments. I am simple and complicated. I am me...
This entry was posted in Ati's Life, IF and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Hello from Destinations Unknown

  1. annemariemavie says:

    Purgatory. That’s what it is called. It’s a place we all end up at some point or another in our lives for all kinds of different reasons.
    It won’t always feel like this. It won’t always feel so raw. That’s all I can tell you.
    I can also tell you…regardless of how you are feeling in this moment…you are not alone.

  2. Dani says:

    Oh, hon- I have so much to say about this. But the first thing is that you are NOT here alone. I am right here with you. And I have honestly gotten so used to calling this my life that it was only very very, recently that I began to wonder whether there is a way to a different place, where the anger, sadness, and despair feel like part of me instead of like what’s left of me. We WILL get to another place- a place that honors this place, a place that honors our lost children, but a different place. In the mean time, please call on me whenever you need company here. The scenery is lousy and the terrain rocky, but there is tea and conversation and lots of love from me.

    • Dani, my dear Dani. How much I wish you were deported from this land and freed into a better and happier place. I’d love the conversation. Big hugs to you and your wonderful man.

  3. Leila says:

    Wish I knew… Wish I know…

    Sometimes I just don’t understand why I did not get the ticket to the express train to mommy-hood. I asked for the express ticket, didn’t I!??? Who messed it up? How come I ended up on the local train? With so many stops?

    Guess I will get refund in couple of months.
    But I can’t erase these 5 years out of my life. Lost years. Unfair years.
    I am still angry. Sad. Upset. Not just for myself and the struggle I had gone through. But for my friends who are still on this local train and are not able to hop on the express train.

    Wish I was a wizard… And even I am not you know what I wish for…

  4. Bianca says:

    Oh, the Places You’ll go!

    Dr. Seuss describes this place/journey very well.

    ….
    Except when you don’t.
    Because, sometimes you won’t.

    I’m sorry to say so
    but, sadly, it’s true
    that Bang-ups
    and Hang-ups
    can happen to you.

    You can get all hung up
    in a prickle-ly perch.
    And your gang will fly on.
    You’ll be left in a Lurch.

    You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
    Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
    A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
    Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
    How much can you lose? How much can you win?

    And IF you go in, should you turn left or right…
    or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
    Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
    Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
    for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

    You can get so confused
    that you’ll start in to race
    down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
    and grind on for miles cross weirdish wild space,
    headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
    The Waiting Place…

    …for people just waiting.
    Waiting for a train to go
    or a bus to come, or a plane to go
    or the mail to come, or the rain to go
    or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
    or the waiting around for a Yes or No
    or waiting for their hair to grow.
    Everyone is just waiting.

    Waiting for the fish to bite
    or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
    or waiting around for Friday night
    or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
    or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
    or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
    or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
    Everyone is just waiting.

    NO!
    That’s not for you!

    Somehow you’ll escape
    all that waiting and staying
    You’ll find the bright places
    where Boom Bands are playing.

    With banner flip-flapping,
    once more you’ll ride high!
    Ready for anything under the sky.
    Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

    And I think you are definitely that kind of “guy”. I actually flip through this book a lot because you can use it for all kind of life situations we all go through.

    I read this quote once and I think it says it all:
    “Everything Will Be Okay in the End. If It’s Not Okay, It’s Not the End.”
    So hang in there and just know you are not alone and after every down there is an up!

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