Hello blog! Long time, no write. Despite all my aspirations and goal setting, I managed to write nothing in March. It was a hectic, happy, but at times emotionally draining month and I couldn’t quite find my voice, so opted to skip posting. It was, co-incidentally, the only month since the inception of this blog, that I didn’t write a single post. Disappointed? Yes, I am. But, it is what it is.
This morning…just now, as a matter of fact, I was checking Facebook when a light came on and a switch was flipped. Suddenly, in a moment of clarity, I found something I’ve been wanting to write about. Suddenly inspiration hit. So, here I am writing and trying to find a way to get to my point.
I am infertile. That’s not news. I’ve written about it and cried about it and agonized about it for over five years now. I’ve been poked, prodded and dragged through hell by doctor after doctor and expert after expert. I’ve freely put myself through many procedures and suffered through setback after setback. I’ve been hopeful, tenacious, dedicated, single-minded again and again, only to be heartbroken again and again.
For years now, friends and loved ones have slowly been backing away at the sight of this repeated and nonstop tragedy. I don’t blame them. People don’t know how to deal with continuous and sustained sadness. They need me to be ok and “move on”. It’s somewhat selfish, but also very caring and loving. They just don’t want to watch me suffer. And as I arrive at the same intersection of emotional exhaustion with each friend and family member, I walk away knowing that they don’t get it and that I ultimately cannot look outside of me for healing, support and understanding, for the best qualified person for all that is only me. But, it gets very lonely inside when you’re constantly told that no one has any clue how it feels to be where you’ve landed and can’t seem to escape no matter what you do. I, like every other human being, yearn for understanding and support. Support I get from many loving souls whom I’m indebted to for the rest of my life. But understanding seems to elude my current life circumstances. It’s not a complaint. I’m simply stating a fact.
I am constantly told that no one can understand the pain of wanting a child but not having one…yet. People with children tell me they can’t understand what I’m going through. I, not being a mother to living children, feel confused. How can a parent not understand how it could feel to be a person whose fondest wish is to be a mother, but cannot get there? While I honor and respect each person’s limitations and emotional capabilities, I’m constant struck by that notion.
Then I woke up this morning and went about my daily ritual of checking Facebook and reading the updates while having breakfast. While reading all the updates and posts, I found a beautiful status update from a friend that might help unravel this mystery of how it feels to be me- infertile, grieving and childless after five years:
“Most beautiful words to wake up to ‘Má, I love you because you’re always smiling and giving me kisses'”
This sentence is recounting an exchange between a mother and her child. This and all the other status updates recreating all the funny, corky, wonderfully sweet things children say and do always bring a smile to my lips and a tear to my eyes. That’s because THAT is exactly what’s missing in the lives of those who are infertile. THAT is missing and we ache because it’s missing. THAT is missing and we feel incomplete, sad and lost beyond words because it’s missing. THAT is missing and we fear having to live the rest of our lives without ever knowing anything else.
This is how it feels to be infertile and the mother of children never to be and children yet to come. This is how I live…in pause. This is how I live…in sadness. This is how I live…missing this thing that I know I’m supposed to be: a mother.