A Letter To My Infertile Body
Can we get real real?
Sometimes I think I hate you. I hate that you don't work the way you're supposed to, and I hate that I have crevices and cracks in my face though age shouldn't have given them to me yet. My wrinkles are the consequence of stress and sorrow.
I hate that through part of my cycle you'll do everything we need you to and then turn away from our plan and tear me apart. Sometimes I just don't understand you. Why aren't our goals the same?
The weight gain, the hormonal acne, the aches and pains, they're all there, constantly reminding me what I'm putting myself through. The bloat without the baby. The stress, the complications, the issues.
I know better than to allow the side effects of my treatments to make me hate you, yet I'm human, emotional and raw, and heart matters don't leave room for logic. When I think about what all of this is for, the sacrifices and side effects no longer mean much. They are battle wounds, scars, the metaphoric tiger stripes some women say they get when they become moms.
I already have those things, even though I don't have a baby in my arms.
So can I be real, real with you?
I don't really hate you. I hate that I don't have what I so badly want, and I really hate that it's easy for me to feel sorry for myself.
But the discomfort you've brought me, the constant reminders of the position in life I'm in, have also made me remember the person I am and shown me the person I want to be. Though I am waiting, the growth here has become as significant as the outcome I want.
I know what I'm waiting for, but I don't have to put my life on hold because it hasn't gone the way I want it to. I can find the happiness in other places.
I can find it in my husband's eyes when he says (and means) I'm still beautiful. I can feel it when Huckleberry nuzzles up to me in the morning, a moment we share together when the rest of the world doesn't matter. I see it when my mom texts me to see how I am; when my infertile sisters reach out via email to root me on.
This world is full of love, even though it's sometimes delivered in complicated ways.
Yes, looking at my body and seeing how different it is reminds me of all of that growth, not just the expansion of my waistline.
You might be something I want to change, but I want to change my soul even more. To nurture it through this journey so that when this body is rightfully mine again and I can shape it into anything I want, it will match the beauty of my expanding heart.