All I ever wanted was a baby, a child who was half of me and half of Rob. Hopefully the best parts: Rob’s kindness, charm, and devotion; my honesty, brains, and thoughtfulness. It started out as a dream; that grew into a feeling; that blossomed into a desire. A desire to be a mother.
At first it was just my desire; a biological clock that started ticking and hasn’t stopped. Then it gradually became Rob’s too. He could see himself coaching his child at sports, taking them camping, fishing, being a teacher to them like his father was to him. It was all fun and games, at first. The thrill of trying to create life, something so powerful and emotional. It was everything we had hoped it would be. Then it all changed…
The months began passing, then slowly the years. We were so naïve, thinking it would be easy, something we could plan. We would be like everyone else, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t turn out the way we had hoped it would. We were wrong, oh so very wrong. It has been anything but fun and enjoyable. It has broken us down, broken me down into someone I never saw as being a part of me. Someone with a broken heart; someone with an ache and a longing so strong that nothing and no one can seem to soothe it. I became an infertile.
I wear a mask; the mask of an infertile. I leave the house with a smile on my face. I finish my work, speak kindly to everyone I see. I try and hide behind my mask, making sure that no one sees what lies behind it. I don’t speak of it to anyone, it’s a secret life. But when I walk thru the doors of my house at the end of the day, the mask comes off. The tears start to fall again, my heart begins to ache again, and I fall apart.
I sometimes wonder if the hole in my heart, will actually heal when we do become parents. Will I forget all of this, forget the pain? I’m sure I will; I’ll have someone I have to be strong for, someone who needs me and counts on me for everything. I wonder when and if this day will come. Is it all worth it? I know it is, it’s just a matter of picking myself up off the floor and starting again. Try, try, and try again. That’s my infertile motto, something I need to live by.
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