When Normalcy is Not

I don’t talk about this much anymore, but we struggled with infertility for ten years.

I have PCOS. I menstruate maybe annually on my own. Usually I have to take progesterone to give the lady bits a kickstart.

But in December and February, it just happened. December was no big deal, because it had been a few months. Whatevs.

But last month I cried.

Because I didn’t know how to react.

What’s going on?
Has my body decided to be healthy?
What if I get pregnant?

I cried because I didn’t know how to feel about the possibility of fertility. I cried because I thought we were done with this. I cried because I thought the roller coaster was over.  I cried because I had convinced myself that I did not want to parent.

We do fucked up things to our minds when faced with the harshest realities of life, when we realize that in spite of what we’ve always been told, we can’t do or be anything we want just because we want it.

Sour grapes.

But it was only during that first rush of confusion that I questioned, that I believed the lies that I had talked myself into believing.

I do want to parent, but at the same time, I do love the life we have now, for the most part. It was the sudden flip-flopping of everything that I thought I knew that hurt me so much. And in a way, I appreciate that flip-flopping; it’s just another thing that has helped me be present in my life and be conscious of my own innermost feelings.

And now I understand that I can welcome being childless as much as I once dreamed of parenting. Not just because it’s safe and familiar, but also because I know that I have the capacity to be mindful and simply enjoy today.

Except on the days that I can’t, but I’ve learned that it’s okay to have those days too.

Any day can be a good day on its own merits.

6 Comments on “When Normalcy is Not”

  1. LRose says:

    The final sentence is lovely. And has a prompt-like ring to it!
    I have three friends/couples who have walked in your shoes. Two eventually got pregnant, long after accepting childlessness, and the third is happily resigned to the fact.

  2. Kris says:

    I feel your struggle. I have PCOS too and found out recently that one of my ovaries is no longer functioning. I have always wanted children and here I am almost 35 and single and childless. The idea that my body is already giving up on my dreams and I have not yet met anyone makes me want to scream.

    How do you redefine your life when a dream you have wanted is possibly no longer in your fate. I think you have a good attitude towards it and no matter what happens, your life is not less worthy or happy if it means you don’t become a parent. There are other ways to give love to people. I am trying to find that out myself.

    • April says:

      Ovaries can be real bastards. It took me a long time to understand that it’s never too late to be yourself. Which is another post percolating in my head.

  3. abbiosbiston says:

    Fertility is such an incredible complex subject. After being desperate to parent for years now that I am pregnant I have moments of wondering what the hell I am thinking.

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