I’ve long been hoping that it would only be a matter of time before I’d recuperate in some way from all I’ve lived through especially now that the hyperactive, super-human pursuit of creating a child no longer dictates how I live day to day, week to week and month to month While some of the more primal, raw emotions have dissipated, a different continuum of emotions have succeeded them.
I’m not alone. Each day it seems I hear from readers who are moving or have moved to this new phase along with me. It’s led me to a new thesis on how infertility affects us – the “I’m ready to move on, but my heart won’t seem to let me.”
Those of us in this phase are well beyond the initial shock. We accept our condition, but we’re not done yet. No, we face a multitude of secondary responses and feelings. Many had been submarined because they were too painful or overwhelming in their own right to address in the heat of the treatment battle. These old and new emotions surface in a less overt way, but they need to be worked over and through just as the earlier emotions did. While I’m proud to report that I’ve thoroughly mastered getting down the personal care aisle without succumbing to the siren song of home ovulation and/or pregnancy kits, I’ve learned that there’s more to infertility than simply conceiving a child.
Along these lines, I’d like to introduce you to a new blogger, Karen from Pretoria, who describes “just waking up from the numbness that infertility brings.” I (and I’m sure many others who regularly visit my blog) know well of what Karen writes…
“This jumbling chaos in my soul that needs to be organized by writing about it. When I’ve given every thought, emotion, and question it’s place in the library of my mind, maybe I’d be able to make sense of everything. Any maybe someone else might benefit from it as well.”
I hear and understand you so well, Karen. It takes more than continents or oceans to separate our experiences. I hope we, and the so many of those like us, can figure it out together.