There was a time when I looked at life through rosy-colored glass. I was the quintessential Pollyanna, which is why coping with infertility has been doubly hard. If I’d been less of a dreamer and more of a realist I might have been better prepared to handle the outcome.
It’s safe to say that the past five years of denial and grieving (punctuated by bouts of anger, sadness and despair) didn’t leave much room for color in my life. I feared that infertility’s last laugh would be saddling me with a monochromatic life. I had an eerie sense my future would be nothing more than black and white and gray. How could it not? Not only had there not been a pot of gold at the end of my rainbow, there was no longer any rainbow. At least that’s what I thought.
As I’ve written before I am reshaping my life and my expectations for a life without children and, along with those adjustments, our house is changing bit by bit. The remodel has been a very tangible way to remind me that I am becoming a different person living in a different place.
For my part of Show & Tell, I’m sharing with you the colorful paint that will soon be on the walls of our house set against the quartzite that was recently sealed into place on our new kitchen island. The paint choices will serve as a reminder — especially on those days when flashbacks to what might have been seize me — that I live in a world full of color and possibilities.
You can read more Show & Tell entries at Stirrup Queens blog. There you’ll find still more evidence that women who once heard the dreaded infertility diagnosis have discovered various paths out of the darkness and a way forward.