I have to be honest. I have been having a tough time with this whole blogging thing. Maybe it’s because I recently finished writing a book, and I am exhausted from the process. Maybe it’s because I think that people will not be interested in what I have to say. Maybe it’s because I feel guilty for being on “the other side.” Maybe I care too much about what others think of my writing.
Countless people and businesses who start off blogging with a bang end up abandoning the practice for a myriad of reasons. I can’t count the number of times I have clicked on a website’s blog and discovered that the current post is 6 months to 2 years old. Blogging is a great idea in theory, but if we don’t know what to say or how to say it, it goes to the wayside.
I am one of millions of people who endured Assisted Reproductive Treatments, and one of millions who it worked for. I am now blogging after completing my family, which is a different animal than blogging while enduring infertility.
Many infertility bloggers abandon their blogs because they want to put the past behind them. They want to close the door on the most emotionally challenging time of their lives. They want to forget that they experienced immense pain trying to add a child to their families. They want to be grateful for what they have, relish in the joy of parenthood, be positive, and simply move forward.
The pain that I experienced during our journey refuses to leave me. Truth be told, I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to pretend like the journey is over because it’s physically over. It’s not. It’s not because on an almost daily basis I am reminded of what we went through.
Let me share an example.
I was at a Halloween party for our neighborhood Moms Club when out of the corner of my eye I saw it – a bump. Or what I thought was a bump. As we all know, you can never be certain if a woman is pregnant if she has a slight bulge. This particular mom already had two children, ages 2 and 4. “Is she really pregnant with a THIRD?” I asked myself. As far as I knew, she hadn’t had any issues conceiving either of her kids. Of course I didn’t walk up and congratulate her. God forbid if it was leftover baby weight. I also have a difficult time congratulating fertile women on their third and fourth pregnancies. Not because they’re not deserving, but because I am still healing. Self-admittedly, I am still healing.
Fast forward to Halloween night. I saw her again out of the corner of my eye. This time there was no mistaking her pregnancy status. She and her husband had dressed up as Thing 1 and Thing 2, and Thing 3 was pasted on her bump.
“Oh wow! I was wondering last week if you were pregnant” I said.
Her children would all be spaced 2 1/2 years apart.
Despite knowing that my situation needed to unfold the way it did, and being grateful for that, I still experience pangs of jealousy. I still sometimes wish that we didn’t have to endure what we endured. But then I remember that I might not have have found a direction in life. Or that it would have taken longer.
That direction being destigmatizing the shame surrounding infertility and miscarriage. A direction which involves blogging, love it or hate it.
All of our voices should be heard. They need to be heard.