It’s the starting that’s always the hardest part, is it not? The starting, the beginning, the first step forward. Perhaps, and perhaps not. Now I am coming to believe it’s the keeping going that presents life’s most steep set of stairs, narrow and winding, and sometimes endless. It’s getting up day after day knowing dreams that felt so vibrant can one day, suddenly, vanish before our very eyes. Or, is it that they transform, like the phoenix rising out of the ashes–something new emerges from the wreckage?
These are the questions I have been asking myself. The questions I seek answers for, I’m beginning to wonder if those answers are out there.
There is just no way to make “pretty” the call from the doctor saying “your FSH is 50, around the level of a menopausal woman. This means that likely you have very few, if any, good eggs left. We don’t know why this happens, and there is nothing we can do to stop or reverse it. You will likely never have your own child.” Right there, right then, the wall came crashing down. Right then, right there, something in me died, just a little.
I have decided to write this blog, something that I have to admit I don’t even really understand (blog technology), as a way to use my words to heal my heart. And perhaps more importantly, as a way to hold my hand out, to make a bridge, to other women who’s world’s have been shattered in much the same, and in different, ways. I am also writing this blog so those who love us can glimpse into our pain, and joys, that we often don’t have the strength, or desire, to share on our own.
If you are reading this, and you are feeling hopeless, lost, afraid, no longer whole, or so many other emotions that come with infertility, I hope you will join me. I hope you will pour yourself a cup of tea, pull up a chair, and sit for awhile by the fire. Come for some comfort.