Five Minute Friday: Long
Once again, I am participating in Five Minute Friday. If you're interested, visit these ladies to see how you can join up.
The premise is simple. I write for 5 uninterrupted minutes, and with minimal editing, post the results to share on my blog. Each Friday, a new topic is offered up. This week the topic is a word that immediately dredged up emotions for me: LONG.
So, here we go.
Long. It's a word that holds so much more meaning than it did when I was younger. I thought the time between the Thanksgiving holiday and Christmas was long. Boy, I had no concept of long.
My path has been long in this world of infertility
It's been years and years of infertility. I have been pursuing fertility treatments for over two years. Two years. 730+ days. More than 17500 hours. More minutes and seconds than I want to count. All of them riddled with promise and disaster, simultaneously teasing me with hope and wrapping me in despair.
It's been a long year of forgoing any fertility treatment medications and procedures and only working on myself. How much longer can I stay on that path? How long until my restlessness means I have to move on and do something? Anything. I just want to jump back in the game, but the common sense of the husband tells me to wait. So more long in my life. 3 more LONG months.
Why does this road have to be so extraordinary long and winding when all I want is the shortcut, the exit to the place I have been searching for all along. Why can't I figure out how to find the bullet train to my destination, the one so many other women board unknowingly, or at least without any hassle? Why am I constantly in the slow lane, waiting for what's next?
Long also brings up memories of my mom. It's been too long since I've seen my mother, heard her voice, felt her embrace.This year marks 10 years since my mother passed away. I miss every every single day. If people tell you it stops, they are wrong. It gets better--you develop callouses on your heart and learn to deal with the pain, But it never goes away. At least, in these ten years, the pain hasn't gone away. It's a dull ache that blends into the background, but it is there nonetheless. I will miss her every day because she was an extraordinary mother and a wonderful friend, but a better human being than anyone else I know.
How long do I have to wait to know what my motherhood fate will be?
This is one of those questions I ask myself in my darkest moments. How long can I stand to be in a holding pattern? How long can I live with the indecision? How many months will I be willing to inject myself full of hormones and spend our hard earned money in a desperate attempt to get what so many people get for free. How long can I keep going? How long will Jeremy tolerate my moodiness, my sadness, my difficulty coping with the day to day struggles of infertility?
How long can I live with myself if I give up short of my goal? How long do we try until I find peace with potentially exploring the adoption option?
How long until I stop dreading Christmas? How long until our house ceases to be quiet? How long until there are little feet pattering around, waiting for Santa? How long will our hope hold out?
How long can one person live like this? How long until we find the end of the road, for better or for worse?
The premise is simple. I write for 5 uninterrupted minutes, and with minimal editing, post the results to share on my blog. Each Friday, a new topic is offered up. This week the topic is a word that immediately dredged up emotions for me: LONG.
So, here we go.
Long. It's a word that holds so much more meaning than it did when I was younger. I thought the time between the Thanksgiving holiday and Christmas was long. Boy, I had no concept of long.
My path has been long in this world of infertility
It's been years and years of infertility. I have been pursuing fertility treatments for over two years. Two years. 730+ days. More than 17500 hours. More minutes and seconds than I want to count. All of them riddled with promise and disaster, simultaneously teasing me with hope and wrapping me in despair.
It's been a long year of forgoing any fertility treatment medications and procedures and only working on myself. How much longer can I stay on that path? How long until my restlessness means I have to move on and do something? Anything. I just want to jump back in the game, but the common sense of the husband tells me to wait. So more long in my life. 3 more LONG months.
Why does this road have to be so extraordinary long and winding when all I want is the shortcut, the exit to the place I have been searching for all along. Why can't I figure out how to find the bullet train to my destination, the one so many other women board unknowingly, or at least without any hassle? Why am I constantly in the slow lane, waiting for what's next?
Long also brings up memories of my mom. It's been too long since I've seen my mother, heard her voice, felt her embrace.This year marks 10 years since my mother passed away. I miss every every single day. If people tell you it stops, they are wrong. It gets better--you develop callouses on your heart and learn to deal with the pain, But it never goes away. At least, in these ten years, the pain hasn't gone away. It's a dull ache that blends into the background, but it is there nonetheless. I will miss her every day because she was an extraordinary mother and a wonderful friend, but a better human being than anyone else I know.
How long do I have to wait to know what my motherhood fate will be?
This is one of those questions I ask myself in my darkest moments. How long can I stand to be in a holding pattern? How long can I live with the indecision? How many months will I be willing to inject myself full of hormones and spend our hard earned money in a desperate attempt to get what so many people get for free. How long can I keep going? How long will Jeremy tolerate my moodiness, my sadness, my difficulty coping with the day to day struggles of infertility?
How long can I live with myself if I give up short of my goal? How long do we try until I find peace with potentially exploring the adoption option?
How long until I stop dreading Christmas? How long until our house ceases to be quiet? How long until there are little feet pattering around, waiting for Santa? How long will our hope hold out?
How long can one person live like this? How long until we find the end of the road, for better or for worse?
Thank you for your raw post that has so many hard questions, none of which I will be arrogant enough to attempt to answer. His grace in abundance to you for the length of your journey. Visiting from Five Minute Friday.
ReplyDeleteHeaded over from FMF. Your post is so honest and so true, it really hit me deeply. I have not struggled with fertility myself, but have several good friends who have, so I know how difficult it is, on so many different levels. I feel for you and will include you in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteI lost my Dad 14 years ago and your description resonated very deeply with me: it never gets any easier but, as you say, you kind of develop callouses all over your heart, to enable you to live with the knowledge of it.
You ask, "How long can one person live like this?"...its a question I ask myself daily, repeatedly (because of my own situation)...I've come to the conclusion that we can just as long as we have to, because we always have to hold on to hope and hope is what gives us the strength to keep going. As soon as we lose hope, that's when we stop.