Barren, Not Beaten
When I started this blog nearly two years ago I was in a world of hurt. Not just your ordinary owie or gosh, darn I’m disappointed. I’m talking the World Series of Hurt.
Think caged lioness. I was ready to attack out of a primal sense of loss. My world was black. I harbored all sorts of ill will against those who conceived effortlessly. Behind my frozen in place smile my mind raced with angry thoughts. If you could have read my thought bubbles, well, let’s just say they were not pretty. The injustice of infertility consumed me body and soul.
I raged at the casual dismissal of my childless state. I wanted everyone else to hurt as much as me. If they could have lived a day inside my broken heart I was convinced they’d finally understand the pain of infertility. The hole in my heart felt like a black hole. It’s said that black holes are stars that collapse into themselves. That about describes infertility. My black hole was once the star that held the promise of my children. It became a place or thing into which dreams disappeared, not expected to be seen again. That just begins to describe the magnitude.
Today? Well I’m in a different, better place. Is the hurt still there? Yes. Do I still want to land a left hook when I hear a careless remark slung without any sense of understanding from a smug mom or dad? You betcha!
Why do I keep writing about this topic? I feel an obligation. When I see a cluster of girls and boys who might one day face the dreaded diagnosis I see an opportunity to convert my anger and loss into something more productive. I’d like to think that by standing up and speaking out that maybe, just maybe, we’ll see a day when infertility is seen as something more than a self-inflicted Western condition. (Try explaining that to a woman in Africa or Indonesia who can’t conceive).
I’m also branching out with my writing. I’m contributing a column called Barren, Not Beaten on a website looking to bring women together to sort out the confusing and often misleading information about fertility.
I think of myself as a senior helping out the incoming class of freshman. I want them to know that while infertility is scary and confusing they’re not alone with their complex emotions and worries.