Barren Doesn’t Mean Empty

Come on in. We’ve got room in front. Okay, everyone settled? Can you hear me in back?  Good. Okay, I’ve got a few confessions to make.

First, I haven’t been completely silent these past six weeks. Those of you who follow me on Facebook or
Twitter know I’ve been writing for other sites during my Coming2Terms sabbatical. That’s right. I’ve been testing the waters and getting
comfortable writing for a wider audience. For instance:

As those of you who have been with me from the beginning well know I started this blog feeling broken, empty, isolated — in a word: LOST. I’d been living with infertility for more than a decade and,
at 43, found myself confronted with the unthinkable. Infertility treatment of all sorts had proven futile. Time was running out on a spontaneous, miraculous pregnancy and that stark realization
flattened me. I was angry, bitter, despairing, prickly. I felt my body had betrayed me. I felt massively misunderstood and, not surprisingly, I didn’t like the world very much.

A spin through my earliest posts reveals that I channeled my blackest ire at women who conceived easily. There were even days when I felt positively hateful toward once infertile women who succeeded
where I didn’t. At times their comments felt disingenuous. Their glowing posts were a stake in my fragile heart. “Look at me, I’m so very pregnant now! Here’s my belly (which you’ll never
have…
.) to prove it!

Yes, I confess that I never came right out and said it then, but those posts cut deeper in some ways than hearing about pregnancies from women who had never visited …

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