Those of you who know me well, or who have been reading me for some time, know that from time to time I talk about infertility, or ectopic pregnancy. But by and large this blog is not about that. I don’t think my readers want to hear my complaints, or my thoughts, or the way I’ve coped with the life I’ve been dealt.
And so, last year, about the time I wrote this No Kidding post, I took the plunge and started a new blog. I felt I needed a space for thoughts on my no kidding lifestyle, the good and the bad, remembering what was lost, and celebrating what I have. I didn’t mention it here, other than an oblique reference a while ago. I haven’t included it in my website list on Facebook. I’m a bit nervous still to mention it here, because I might refer to people in real life – things they said, or the way they reacted or didn’t react – and they might get upset. I don’t want that.
But recently I read an article that pointed out the fact that couples who are infertile, who can’t have children or who have difficulty doing so, can’t expect others to be sensitive, to understand their lives, to be considerate of the differences, if the infertile don’t talk about their situation. I gulped when I read this. Because I am one who doesn’t talk about this very openly. Sure, I’ll do so anonymously online. But otherwise I am quite private about it. I’m not sure why. Am I ashamed? Am I embarrassed? Am I afraid people will judge, or pity (argh!) or laugh or sneer? Perhaps all of the above. I don’t want to feel like that. Intellectually, I don’t think any of that. Emotionally … that might be another matter. I do want people simply to understand, or to try to understand, in the same way that I know how difficult it might be to get sleep with a newborn, or how busy a parent with children is, or what it means to deal with any other difficulties. But how can they possibly understand if I don’t talk about what it means to be me?
And so I think it is time to come out of the closet. Hence this post. If you’re interested, you can email me or leave a comment asking for the link and I’ll contact you. If you’re not, stay here or at my Travelalphablog where I most recently raved about the delight (well, that’s one way of describing it) of driving to Echuca, in Victoria, Australia.
A caution though. It is quite possible my cowardice will win out, and I may end up deleting this post after a day or two.