My silence. My scream
A few months ago I dared to come into the open and give my childlessness a name. I came to grips with my infertility and acknowledged my passage through this lonely phase in my life; believing most of the time that I was alone on this long and winding road, always hoping to reach my destination, sooner than later.
The confessions of an infertile (aka coming to terms with infertility) opened a sea of women telling tales of their experiences with infertility at various levels. To date I’m extremely touched that I am not alone on this long, winding and uncomfortable road; I am doubly touched by the courage of these women and their endurance. In the least, I am filled with awe and inspiration by what they have been through. I feel a connectedness with people I have never met but have had touching and deep conversations with. They have struck a chord in me that even my closest friends or family have never managed to. I value your stories and your courage but most of all, I value and respect your need for privacy.
These are stories of women I have encountered through my story and I aptly titled this post My Silence. My Scream. Our stories maybe similar but they are very individualistic and make the scream and silence of infertility largely individual. We all suffer in the silence of our homes, our bedrooms, alcohol or the comfort of our hearts because we think we are alone, but inside we are screaming in frustration at unclear diagnosis; screaming at the seemingly unfairness of it all and at all other things that always amplify our infertility, sometimes; most times, unintentionally. These are our silent screams.
My interaction with these women makes feel like I belong to a highly exclusive club, one which helps me to live my pain through our anonymous interactions. Most of all, it inspires me to never lose hope and know that he makes all things beautiful; all in good time. Thank you ladies, you are my inspiration and repository of invaluable information, my circle of refuge within which the silence becomes a scream; screams at different lows and highs creating a tempo that can only be soothing to my troubled soul.
To those that empathise with me and others like me, thank you too, for your efforts to understand – but until you have walked a mile in our shoes, you can never really understand the pinch we endure.
I am happy I shared my story.
you never cease to amaze me ,you are so amazing . i just don’t know how you do it but i really admire your courage .
No wonder they say God will never give you what you can’t handle .
Its hard for me to comment, because as you say, even though I care for your situation, I can’t really appreciate it as its an experience I can not go through. Nonetheless, I stand by you as a friend should.
Thanks Beene, my courage comes from the unwavering support of friends and sisters like you. In your support you are also amazing.
Thanks Milton, sometimes all we need is a friend who can stand by us even though they don’t really understand. Thanks for your continued support too.
You are welcome