Infertility & starting over: Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten

“Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined

I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten . . . .

Perhaps one of the hardest things in life to learn, to believe in, is that what is happening in our lives is not being done TO us, rather it is being done FOR us.

I have spent years struggling to embrace this attitude; years feeling the victim of my circumstances; years getting stuck in the “pity pot” as I often refer to it. Life can seem so unfair, what could I have possibly done to be sentenced to infertility? Why has this been done TO me?

Getting caught in this death spiral can only possibly lead to one result–the plane plummeting to the ground and crashing to pieces on the rocks below.

When we attach ourselves to the story of our desperation, we miss the blank page that has been placed before us. We miss the lesson, the growth, the opportunities that have been created FOR us.

Would we like for these opportunities to come sweetly and easily? Yes. Would we get from them what we needed to if they did? No.

Doors close, sometimes they slam, because another door has opened up and the force of the wind that is a new breath of life is so strong that the other door has no choice but to slam shut. And when it does we are left with two choices.

We can grab that door handle and pull with all of our might. We can throw our entire body against the door countless times, creating black and blue marks along every inch of our being. We can pound, and cry, and pry, and give everything we have to open that darn door–to go backwards in time.

Here’s the thing though, it aint never going to open.

Choice two: sit for awhile outside of the closed door. Mourn its closing. Lay our cheeks against its worn wood, and whisper words of gratitude for the precious years we’ve shared together. And then, get up and go through the open door into new possibilities.

“Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten . . . .”

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2 comments

  1. Love that song. And love your post.

    1. Thanks Heather. I do have to admit that when I hear it in my car I turn it way up and sing along 🙂 Always reminds me that every day is a new, fresh, day full of possibilities.

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