I’ve been thinking for some time that there are others out there like me. Those who are reminded daily of what might have been. It’s been exactly three years and seven months since my husband and I (as I turned 40 and he 45) elected to end, once and for all, the torturous cycle of infertility intervention. Yet not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what our child might have looked like, what longstanding family traits we might have passed on and how our lives might have been different.
I’m sure I’m not alone.
Over the years I’ve gradually moved from distress to anger to a more benign state of mind, but what surprises me most is the enduring longing that remains. It’s a longing punctuated by sometimes insensitive but well meaning comments and behaviors from individuals whom I’ll charitably describe as those who don’t know any better.
And then there are those who’ve been down the same path I have. They will, no doubt, acknowledge that there are a never-ending set of built-in reminders of what might have been — some more difficult to stomach than others. I’ll share observations about them and encourage your comments as well.
There are lots of discussions out there involving those in the midst of infertility treatments, but I think there is much to be aired and shared about what happens when it’s clear that no amount of money, medicine or prayer is going to produce the impossible.
This blog is about beginning again and coming to terms with what comes next…