This Saturday commemorates the childless ones.
“It’s easy for you – your kid turns 18 so you get to come and go as you please”, says a mother who can’t even begin to think about hiking or camping.
“So when are you going to hear little footsteps in your household?” has been asked a few times. Not so often these days but anyway.
“Birth rate is down, make more babies!” says almost every conservative politician.
“It’s so wonderful and fulfilling to hike with children!” says every hiking blogger.
“Two becomes three, we’re having a baby” is plastered on every Facebook wall.
We’ve been trying for two years now. In addition to the overwhelming grief I’ve also started to notice that I live by the calendar now. It’s never the right moment with the clinic not being open on weekends and the mandatory field trips always manage to be at the worst possible time.
Excuse the terminology but we’re on the same boat, in the middle of the same sad ocean.
The whole subject is labelled by shame and silence.
Involuntary infertility is more and more common these days. It subjects people to depression, grief and even financial loss in the form of unsuccessful medical treatments. I’m in public healthcare so it also strains society.
Like with depression, involuntary infertility gets a tiny bit easier when you talk about it, at least it does for me. I’m not much of a liar so it’s easier to just blurt it all out instead of being polite and thinking about how it makes others feel.
So this weekend is contradictory for me. I’m going to ovulate on Saturday which is wasted because, well…it’s a Saturday. And on the other hand I’m celebrating motherhood on Sunday.
A working relationship and my passion for this hobby of mine are the only things preventing me from plummeting into a dark abyss.
All the plans for next year and a possibility of a brand new career in nature light the way to a brighter future but somewhere in the back of my head I know that if I’d ever see those two lines, I’d drop it all in a heartbeat.
So if you’ve ever felt envious to me, if you’ve ever wondered or shunned my endless need to run to the woods, here’s one big reason why I do it.
Soul-searching, right? I know I’ll stop living if I stop and wait for something that might never happen.
I can’t console people who go through this. There are no comforting words. Nothing makes it easier. Unless one day, something does.