It’s no secret that I went through an extremely painful time emotionally, at the beginning of the year. I felt like I was being torn apart inside, there were all these conflicting thoughts flying around in my mind, each vying for space and attention. The conflicts basically boiled down to one single thing, my dreams for my future versus my current reality.
In terms of the fertility, it’s obvious. I want to be a mother, and I have never stopped believing that I will one day. But. And it is a big but. Right now I am not, and right now, there is also nothing on the horizon to indicate that it’s going to change. I have 29 blogs in my google reader, the vast majority of which (in fact, come to think of it, all of them) belong to infertile women. I have been reading those blogs for just over two years. It’s just myself and two others left childless at this point. While it always gave me great hope and belief to see others fall pregnant, during the dark days of late December and early January, it served as a wake up call. Something else happened too, a friend who is very dear to me is pregnant. And the ugly green monster reared it’s head like never before, it was terrible. I considered ending the friendship, I’m ashamed to say, just to avoid the pain of seeing her pregnant! I felt like there was no point in continuing it anyway, since most of my friends who have become parents gravitate to other friends who also have children. It’s been extremely tough on me, facing that as a couple we are now also, the last men standing in our social group of friends.
It wasn’t just the fertility that was playing on my mind. And now, I must warn you, I love my husband very much, and our marriage is in a very good space right now, but disclaimer – this may sound like a huge whinge. We’ve been together 10 years, and in that time, my husband has had 8 jobs, 2 businesses and a 4 month sabatical. I’ve spent the entire time as the self appointed coach, trying to find his direction in life, trying to encourage him, always believing and knowing that things would get better, calmer, easier. They didn’t. There just simply has never been any calm before the storm when it came to my husband’s career, it’s been stormy, stormy, stormy. I ached for some consistency, I ached to be able to plan our lives a little, just being able to count on what was going to be happening for the next few months. But I didn’t even know I was aching, because I was in such complete and utter denial about it. I based my own career decisions on it, thinking that it was better for me to stay put and stay stable until things improved for him. I was waiting for it to change, like a lightbulb was about to be switched on, and everything would be OK. I had my entire life on hold for the moment that we could finally exhale and stop worrying.
One morning, while I was feeling so angry and isolated, I suddenly had a little breakthrough. What if this is it? What if it doesn’t get any better? What if maybe it really is time to find some friends who are childless by choice, so that we can actually feel included in the conversation? What if inconsistency in my husband’s career, is just how it’s going to be? He’s always paid his way within our household, so what if it’s a bit of a soap opera and a rollercoaster?
The first thing I felt was another wave of anger. It’s not fair! Why should I? Why can everyone else have such a normal life and mine has to be such a mess, why does God love me less? But underneath that anger, I sensed something, a kind of peace. So I explored it more. First I got more angry, but then I also started to feel more relaxed once the anger subsided. I started wondering if accepting things was a form of becoming cynical, giving up and no longer caring. But that’s not what it is either. I haven’t given up trying for anything, I’ve just given up waiting for a whole lot of things. I’m standing back and observing a little, as people have conversations about their children, about their lives that truly are so different to mine. Instead of the thought that has never left my mind, “one day I’ll be there, I’ll be able to join in”, I stand back and see the truth for what it is right now. I am not a mother. I am not married to the CEO of a huge, successful corporate empire. Today and in this moment, it is what it is.
After our separation, I promised myself that I would never again have my eyes closed to what was right before me. I spent so long pretending to myself that things were fantastic with us, in my mind I had built my husband up to be some fictitious character of my imagination. I made him fit into the fantasy of what I wanted him to be. I was so lost in that dream, that I had no inkling, not even the tiniest clue, that he was about to walk out of the marriage. All I could see was the possibility of things working out the way I wanted them to, and absolutely nothing else. I don’t think I could have prevented the separation, but I think I could have seen it coming.
It was the same with the infertility. I had sold myself a couple of stories about parenthood, and I bought into those stories with every ounce of my being. 10 years ago, when I moved to Cape Town, I searched for a gynae who would be good to have around during a natural birth (they’re few and far between in this country). Yep, 10 years ago. And then with every visit to her, I walked through the hospital playing out the “me in labour” fantasy. Would I be whisked up these stairs, through those doors? In fact, it got so bad, I started doing it every time I drove past the hospital. That is the hospital I’ll be having my baby in! Will I get there in time? Will it be at night or during the day?
I needed to see that there is no pregnancy and there may never be. That’s just how it is right now. I’m now making myself look at that hospital as just another building, and as sad as that is, it’s also a relief. I may even change gynaes, and find one that’s closer to where I live. I’m cancelling the life insurance policy I bought years ago for “in case I have children”, because right now at this moment, it serves no purpose at all.
DH is unhappy in his career, he has been since I met him, and that is sad. But it’s not something that I can change. I have no option but to stand back and watch it unfold, one way or another. Having come from a home where my dad always quietly provided, where money was never even discussed, it hasn’t been easy to live with. But we are so right for each other in so many other ways, he is so kind, so gentle, he’s my best friend. He helps around the house, he’s the most honest person I know. His soul is just restless, always seeking something better, and the calm that he seeks is not something I can give. He must find it himself, he must realise that the happiness he is looking for is within him. Instead of getting on the rollercoaster everytime with him, I can stand on the ground and watch.
So I’ve found a little peace with what is. I’m standing in my truth a little more. I’m connecting, my word for the year is really pulling me forward in my life, I forgot how much I miss socialising. I don’t have the courage for another IVF yet. I might never. Our next discussion is really whether to give the long protocol a shot or just go straight for adoption.
The pain has catapulted me forward.
and their beautiful New Year posts.
