When I embarked on this adventure I begin to read blogs and internet sites. I stumbled onto the women dealing with infertility. I didn’t know why I was drawn to these women at first, but I am beginning to understand. They are in this ultimate struggle to realize a dream. They want to be a mother with every fiber of their being. They want to feel the a baby kick inside them, they want to look at a baby and fall in love with immediately, but more importantly for me, they want to build a nursery, pick out schools, and make a good life for their child. And for all intense and purpose neither of us can. With every fiber of my being I wish I could have provided a life like that life for my child. It’s kind of strange that I identify with these women in some strange and different way. I can understand their struggle and their hopes and dreams. I am sure it would offend them that I am saying that, but it’s true. I have been reading one blog called Chez Miscarriage. Along with being hysterically funny, Getupgrrl articulates women’s thoughts so well. She had one blog on which team she belonged too or what group she identifies with now. (She is having a baby by a suraget (sp?) mother, so now that she will having child is she still labeled infertile?) It got me thinking about how I identify myself. I can’t label it though. I can’t think or say the words and I am not sure why…..
I was pregnant
I had an abortion
I guess I feel like these statements should define me in some way. That I should identify with them that those statements are now who I am. They’re not. I am still the same girl as before just a little wiser and with a little, well a lot more baggage. Obviously this has affected me, but hasn’t changed who I am. It’s just become a part of me. The act and the baby are a part of every movement I make, every breath I take. She hasn’t left me, she just become something a little harder to define. It does make me sad that I am the only one who will mourn her. I am the only one who will remember her. I am the only one who will miss her. My friends go on with their lives like it was a blimp on the radar for them and I feel that this is how they think I should be too. It doesn’t really bother me because I don’t want to talk to them about it any way. Just like everybody else there is just no way for them to understand. I let them believe what they want to about me. Apparently I am supposed to be a certain way, but I can’t explain what I am. Am I proud of what I did? Hell no. I don’t think women want to make this decision, we just do. Do I regret what I did? No, I felt and feel like there wasn’t another viable option. Can I sleep at night? Yes. Could I do it again? I hope to God I never have to find out.