I always try to look for the silver linings. My mind is becoming clearer and I’m becoming more and more hopeful for the future. I’m even somewhat grateful that I’m not a mom. I can’t say that I will feel this way always but let me explain.

It seems that women are expected to be mothers. They get married and the next step is to have a baby. I was guilty of it too. Society tells us that’s the “next step”. If you don’t have kids, that’s weird. God forbid that you never try to have children. You’re a monster! But now being where I am, it’s different than most everyone I know. I’m proud of that. I get to walk this road that not many people do and I get to support people that not everyone can. It’s an opportunity for me to help people who are hurting. I view that as a privilege. 

It’s hard for people to understand that we chose childfree. I use chose lightly. More like backed into a corner maybe? But regardless, my desire to be a mom isn’t any less than yours because I decided to stop. I desired to carry a child in my womb. That’s what I wanted. We discussed adoption and it wasn’t for us. And that’s okay. Having a new puppy was a great reminder of how hard change is. Being a mom is hard work. 

This blog says it well:

Sometimes, people feel it’s a betrayal of their loss to be happy childfree after infertility. They (mistakenly) believe that to enjoy their life without children implies they didn’t ‘want’ them as much as they did. You can simultaneously enjoy your childfree life and mourn the life you once imagined. Both can be true.

I’ve always worried that if people see me happy, they’ll think I didn’t really want to be a mom. But I should be allowed to be happy and sad. I can be happy for the future and sad about the past. I can be excited for new opportunities and sad that others didn’t work out.

This one too:

By allowing myself to accept a childfree life that it would mean that I didn’t work hard enough for my embryos, that I didn’t want or love my children, that I had somehow failed them. That my children didn’t matter as much as someone else’s children.

I feel I worked harder for my children than many people I know. I tried so hard to be a mom. Harder than 98% of the people I know. My children matter just as much as yours.

I won’t be grateful for my infertility everyday. It’s going to continue to hurt when I see others get what I’ve longed for. My friends will grow babies in their belly, something I could never do. I’ll see them raise little people that I’ll love but it will hurt. There will be joy and pain. But I’ll do my best to choose to rise up and be a light in the dark. I’ve been given a tough hand but I’m choosing to do the best I can with it by helping others understand us infertiles better and to stand with other women who are standing in the same mess I am. It gives my pain a purpose. 

So rise
Breaking the dark, piercing the night
You’re made to shine
An army of hope
Bringing the world
A radiant light
A radiant light
You were made to rise, rise

Rise – Danny Gokey


4 thoughts on “Rise

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