I was struck by something I read on someone else's blog today. Like me, she's been trying to bring home a baby since 2003, and like me she has nothing to show for it except sorrow. Our stories differ here and there, but they both have the same ending. We are both childless - mothers only to heavenly babies.
She has had repeated, unexplained miscarriages. I guess there's enough reason to believe that she won't be able to carry a child to term, which may be part of the reason that she is resolved to accept her fate in a way I just can't. I have yet to be given that horrible sentence.
But even though she has, I'm strangely envious of her. I'm dreadfully sorry for her and absolutely sick that she has gone through so much, don't misunderstand me. But I'm envious of the way she is dealing with this new chapter in her life. She's making the supreme effort to extract herself from the torturous limbo of the infertile. She's not waiting anymore. Her life isn't on hold.
She's moving on.
She's actively searching for ways to live a life that isn't defined by her inability to carry a child. She's looking for new experiences and opening herself up to the world at large in all its wonder and glory. She's charting a new course and finding something else to be - many other things to be - if she's not going to be a mother.
I was breathless with excitement. Drunk with the idea of this newfound freedom.
Until I realized I'm still good and trapped in my own limbo.
I don't resent the fact that we're still trying and I don't want to stop. Not yet. But I'm looking at this woman - this childless woman - with longing because she has found a peace that I feel a million and a half miles away from. And even if I come to a point where I'm forced to make the same decision she did, I don't know if I'll do it with half the grace she has. I don't know if I'll be able to muster the enthusiasm to look for the joie de vivre she seems so determined to find again.
I feel too beaten down to ever be able to walk away from all this with my head held high and my heart set on a new dream. And God help me, I haven't the faintest idea what that dream might even be.
Maybe she felt this way once too. Maybe we all do. Maybe circumstances eventually force us to learn a grace we never knew we had in us, and when the time is right it's there for us to display to a wondering world just the way she is.
I don't know.
I just know I applaud her, and every single woman like her, for not letting this ungodly sorrow eat her alive. For not letting it define her. For not letting it suffocate the person she once was and the person she was meant to become.
4 comments:
I read your blog everyday but don't always comment. Thanks so much for your comment on my blog.
I recently back read some of your posts and found the film you made of your life with your Beloved - I think it was called Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl. Why did it bring tears to my eyes? It's so true. There will always be a boy and a girl who love each other.
You are much further on this journey than I am. It helps me to read your blog. I can only understand if you feel your life is on hold. I wish so much for you to find peace instead of sorrow. That is all anyone wants, we've just had the hard lesson that we cannot assume to know in which form we will find it.
((((((Hugs))))))
Even though I am no longer "in limbo", I still am much closer to where you are than to the woman you write about. I would like to think that all of us who are childless *not* by choice will find ways to feel happy and blessed by the lives we lead, even if motherhood continues to elude us. I am not there yet, but at least I have an idea that such a state is possible. Sloughing off the anger, resentment, envy, self-pity and debilitating sadness is a crucial part of this process and one that I continue to struggle with.
(((Big hug))) I hope you find the lasting peace and renewed sense of purpose that you seek.
I'm not sure who you are writing about, but of course, blogs don't tell the whole story. You are getting a snapshot of someone's life...what they are choosing to reveal at that particular moment. I guess I'm trying to say not to be hard on yourself for not being able to be in that place, because it's unlikely that that place is really a permanent one. Don't we all have regrets? I guess the difference is letting those regrets take over our lives...I know I struggle with that too.
Thank you as always for your transparency! I don't pretend to know what you are experiencing because I haven't lost a child. I do know what it's like to have moments of peace and acceptance. And then moments of anger, confusion, numbness, and depression 2 seconds later! Ay, life. Thanks for your blog. It is an encouragement to me!
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