My birthday is just a few days away. The day that my life will turn, like a ticking clock on the wall, into it’s next go around the circle of life. I’ve never been much of a birthday fan; never really liked being the center of attention; however I also never really dreaded the aging process.
Yet this year, the year I turn 37, for the first time in my life I feel like the sharks have been swirling around me in a feeding frenzy. I know, that you know, just what I know. Infertility eats our years, eat our lives, eats our happy as though there was blood in the water and we were swimming in the middle of the murky red.
It all hit me when I realized I had absolutely no idea what to do with a wide open day. The day of my birth. A day that I had taken time away from work, set space away from the crazy pace of life just to be still, given my introvert self free roam to please no on but me. Yet, I now found myself completely confounded by just what the heck to do with that time.
You see I was happy, before infertility. I was happy with the way a day could unfold slowly, sweetly, and without forethought. The way a day could fill me up to full, and I knew just how to help it along.
Then my life just got so complicated, and I just got so tired.
And so, I am learning–finally, and slowly, and with intention–just what infertility has come into my life to teach me.
I am learning to stand still in the middle of the feeding frenzy of life, of unfulfilled desires, of all the crazy things we are offered to try in order to have the child we so desire.
I am learning that not every option for fertility needs exploring. I am learning that not every email needs responding to–immediately, or even at all. I am learning that not every feeling coming from another belongs to me. And I am learning, once again, how to fill a day made just for me. I am learning how to dance in the rain and nap under a tree in the sun.
Yes I remember life before infertility. I remember how happy I was then. And I am learning just how happy I can be now, and always. Because maybe, just maybe, this is our year. And perhaps it is yours as well.