By Lisa Manterfield
At this point in my life, I can truly say I at peace with not having children. But for a long time there were days when the darkness came over me. Do you know what I mean?
Ordinarily, the darkness was a tiny ball that I carried it around with me wherever I went. It was safely tucked away and I didn’t even notice it. Then something would happen to flip the lid and suddenly the darkness crept into every open space within me.
I got tired of carrying the darkness around and finally I was ready to let it go. I didn’t want to feel bitter or sad about not having children, because honestly, I was okay. But I couldn’t remember who I was any more. When I looked in the mirror I didn’t see me. I saw a woman who looked tired and overweight, and very, very serious about life. She didn’t laugh easily or live with abandon, like the real me used to. She was cautious and unwilling to let herself go. She felt like a square peg in a world full of round holes and it was lonely to live that way.
Our experiences make us who we are, but what happens to who we were? In a universe where energy remains constant, I knew that the old me — the laughing, carefree joyous me — must still have been around. I’d catch glimpses of her sometimes, and like a huntress, I’d follow her into the woods. And yet, so often, she managed to evade me.
But I was patient. I kept an eye on her and kept moving towards her. I kept hunting her, until I caught up with her again. And finally, she I were able to stand together again and let the darkness go.
Are you missing the old you? Where might you go to find her again?
I don’t recognize myself at all anymore. The old me is long gone. I hope to eventually find a new, more positive me, but that person will still be different than what I was.
You are right, Susan. You’ll never be the same. I know I am a different person since my infertility struggle. But I have found who I was (and am) at the core–a positive person who enjoys life and isn’t constantly waiting to be happy. I hope you find that for yourself, too.
I look back at pictures when we were in the midst of our infertility journey and even though I am smiling, there is a deep sadness in my eyes. I am so glad that my husband helped me embrace the life we have and that I have been able to find my joy again!
I was just thinking about this the other day .. i miss the old carefree, confident, more social me .. lately i’ve been isolating myself from friends and avoiding social situations in general .. i miss when i used to be able to talk freely with people without having to worry if they’ll ask me if i have kids or any other intrusive comments .. sigh .. i know shes down there deep inside .. waiting to come out again when this “storm” settles .. IF it ever settles that is .. i hope it does.
I’m sorry you are struggling right now, Irene. Infertility sure can make you feel alone. And sometimes to protect our own hearts, we have to avoid some social situations. You’ll find your way out of this storm. Until then, just keep reaching out to those of us who have been through this struggle. Although I feel a bit powerless to help, I can at least listen and empathize.
Beautiful post, Lisa. Definitely thought-provoking.
I can absolutely relate to this. I don’t feel myself at all. And I’m searching and looking for something that will make me feel like me again. I feel on edge and just not me… it’s not often the smile on my face is a real one…
Hi Roxy – I relate to all the posts here and particularly how you describe feeling on edge. I felt I wore a mask for years and years and tried to wear a thick coat to protect me from the inevitable questions or insensitive comments often with a fake smile. There is no easy way back to yourself – I think it comes when you have grieved but it does come. Thinking of you and all of us here. Thanks Lisa for an insightful post – so very true how your whole personality is lost with the constant arguments with yourself – “will it happen/it will happen/there’s time/isn’t there”. And “come on Jane hurry up!” – this was from someone who knew I was trying and on the brink of fertility treatment. People have no idea how to react and how deeply infertility effects your whole personality. Its bittersweet – and its hard to accept some days that my pursuit is over, its a light relief however, when I recall the struggle of the never ending hope that’s crushed repeatedly. That’s when I realize I have come a long way. I have a renewed energy for life – I guess the “me” I was has emerged – altered and who knows – maybe improved! Hugs to everyone.
Jane, your comment about grieving really struck me. I say that I grieved the baby I never had. But it never really dawned on me that I didn’t find myself again until I had allowed myself to grieve. We all know that grief is a process and a long one at that. We need to be patient with ourselves and allow our hearts to heal so that we can continue on with our “new” life. Thank you so much for sharing. And hugs back!
Very relatable! Thanks for sharing.
Great post, Lisa!
Good info and well written
Thank you so much for making me not feel alone. I can so relate to your post.
I’ve fought off bitterness for a long time for a number of reasons. Losing my father at 17…being alone etc. Because logically I know anger and bitterness arent good for me and could eat away at me. Founding out I could no longer have children and that I went into early menopause was the topper. So much for fighting off the bitterness. I never wanted to become that bitter, angry old lady (I’m only 41 anyway). But I feel it coming. I want to find that happier Christine again. The one that did things…that had that bit of hope left. Its hard to explain
I’m so sorry for your struggles, Christine. My husband once told me, “It’s okay to be sad. Just don’t stay that way.” It helped because he gave me permission to have my emotion, but reminded me to move past it.
So, maybe you should give yourself permission to feel bitter, angry, jealous, mad, etc. But I pray that after you embrace that emotion and process through the pain, you will be able to find a happier, more joyful place.