Going through infertility treatments, paying a fortune, not getting pregnant, then getting pregnant and then having a miscarriage… all of this is incredibly stressful, depressing, and can make you want to curl up into a ball and hide from everything. I can honestly say, I have been in hiding. Life is hard. When you get older, it seems to get harder, not easier. Now I truly understand when my Mom would say, “You don’t want to grow up too fast. Be happy you’re young. Be a kid for as long as you can.”
I find coaching for American Cancer Society incredibly rewarding – giving back to others actually makes me sane. But not matter if you curl up into a ball, this little light still glows inside. The light of hope. Of wonder. Can I get pregnant again?
Now I find myself obsessed with my body responses. “I feel completely different this month. I bet I’m pregnant.” Waiting for the weeks until your missed period can seem like a lifetime. This time around, I had honestly convinced myself I was pregnant. SO I did it. I took a test. The minus sign is the worst. It means something less than more, something taken away instead of added, something gone from a whole. That is what happened last night. Something gone/lost. I lost. The negative sign just stared up at me.
I didn’t tell my husband I did the test – one of us should sleep. But all night, all I did was dream of plus signs.
This weekend, I’m coaching the NYC Marathon. This time last year, I revealed to hundreds of people at our pasta dinner that I had the disease of infertility. One year later, I’m in the same, vulnerable position as I was last year. But this year, I get to see one of my heroes (Kara Goucher) run, I get to cheer and encourage others to cross that finish line. Even if I cannot get pregnant – my eternal finish line that I cannot cross – I want to help others. Isn’t that what life is all about?
My Different Path 