Moving On to A Magical Life

 

If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would have a magical life after infertility, I probably would have decked them. Such was my anger and despair over the loss of a fragile but long-held dream and more than a decade of trying, fruitlessly, to conceive with the man I adore. I was bitter, broken and inconsolable.

Furthermore, I felt like a failure. How could I not? The conventional wisdom -- reinforced by success story after success story -- is that there is only one happy ending to the infertility tale and it included a baby.

 

What murky future awaited me, I wondered?

 

I tried on different labels. Childless seemed too sad and reinforced a sense of guilt that I had a hard time shaking. Guilt? Yes. As if all the other emotions didn’t complicate things enough I felt guilty about stopping treatments. Was I turning my back on my children? Did I try hard enough? Well, after nearly a decade of pursuing Clomid, timed cycles, countless diagnostics, eight IUIs, two surgeries and three IVFs, I already felt deeply the loss of my children to be and I didn’t want to be defined by a loss.

 

No one celebrates loss.

 

Childfree? No. It felt too artificial. I didn’t swear off children. I love my nieces and nephews. I enjoy seeing them grow into charming little people. I hadn’t arrived at an immutable decision to surrender parenthood forever. If I managed to acheive a miracle pregnancy (which I secretly hoped for years after treatment ended), I would have been over the moon.

 

Non-mom? It was my cheeky comeback to the smug, sanctimonious moms who reveled in their “momminess,” who acted like halos were handed out in the delivery room. As a student of the mommy phenomenon, I’ve discovered that just because a woman identifies herself a “MOM,” it doesn’t make her a better person. I’ve seen plenty of atrocious moms who seemed to love the label and the societal goodwill it afforded more than the reality of raising children.

 

No. I am foregoing a label. I am simply me: a happy woman who is grateful to be on the other side of the hell that I lived with and through. I adore my husband more than ever. I love my life. I cherish my friends. I enjoy the freedom to live unencumbered by expectations and pre-determined milestones. I feel a certain agelessness, a magic that comes with embracing the unknown.

 

Most of all, I am at peace.

 

There is more than one happy ending.