I have gone back and forth about writing this post. My main reason for not wanting to write it is because, well, who really wants to put their business out there on the internet for literally anybody else to read? For them to not only read my story and feel whatever they want about it but to also then be able to pass their own judgments about it?
But then I remember exactly how isolated I feel sitting at home, feeling broken hearted and scared. Like I’m the only one who’s ever felt this way. It hurts to not only feel like you are somehow defective but that you’re also a little bit of a freak too because no one ever talks about it. People just keep it to themselves.
No one ever talks about how scary it is to not know what your body is doing and why. I’ve never heard someone else describe how they desperately want their period to come because that at least means that their cycles are working normal enough for their hormones to be somewhat like a regular person’s would. Or how every time a person announces their pregnancy (and there’s at LEAST one a week…some weeks there’s one every single day) you have to take a few minutes to yourself before you can congratulate the person the way you should. Or how it makes you feel just a little awkward when you're around a bunch of parents who are talking about parent things and kind of looking at you like, "Oh, you don't even know what we're talking about". You're like, well I want to, but it's not really my fault I don't.
The fear is what does this to us. To me. It’s the fear that I’ll never be able to be a mom. That I’ll never meet another biological family member. That I won’t ever get to know one single person who shares the same DNA as me. The fear is what keeps me up at night and makes me take medication for Type 2 diabetes. It's made me a weird version of myself that's somehow more vocal but at the same time very quiet.
The fear is what makes me a terrible sister and a negligent friend. I’ve literally told friends of mine that I’d punch them (jokingly) if they got pregnant before I did. The fear makes me bitter. It makes me feel like my life and my body are completely out of my control. I don't know how to tell it to leave.
The fear is hard to live with because on the outside, you look completely normal. You go to dinners, hang out with friends, post selfies to social media, and you seem like a completely typical, happy human being. The reality is, a lot of life has a little bit of a bittersweet tinge to it because you’re just feeling a little bit empty inside. To me, this emptiness is not all that new, because I grew up feeling like there was at least a little teeny tiny piece that was missing. It’s just that the teeny tiny piece has grown to a slightly larger hole right below my heart.
I write this not for pity but because I want people like me to understand that they’re not alone. It’s NOT just me that feels like this. And if you are reading this and you don’t relate because your body is just fine or you just aren’t at that place in your life, or for whatever other reason, remember that there are most likely very many women in your life right now battling this very secret, very invisible fear and that you should be gentle with them when possible.
My heart goes out to the women who have had to go through this much longer than me, especially to the ones who deal with this fear and on top of that, the grief from losses. Tequila shots and hugs for all.