I started this draft on 8/5/2017 and I never finished it. When I first went to write, this is all I had:
You may or may not know me personally. But can we be completely honest? It doesn't matter if we have met or not. Because we already know each other.
We already understand the pain of our invisible illness. And, because of that, together we are sisters.
As I sit here on a Monday evening, I find my body and spirit exhausted but my mind wide awake. That is usually a sign for me that something is on my mind that I need to get off of my mind before I can rest. So, I logged on and began sifting through drafts. I noticed a theme, so clearly at the time I did not have the courage to write what I am ready to write.
I guess I now require a second preface to this post. My posts come from many different places: awareness and facts, how to help support loved ones, how I am currently feeling, encouraging hope, acknowledging feelings...
Sometimes those feelings are all. Negative. With those, I still try to put some sort of positive spin. The theme I noticed about the unpublished posts? They were all out of a place of raw anger and confusion with zero resolve and zero sunshine and rainbows.
So, here it is. Unfiltered. Completely my thoughts. Some you may find you relate to. Others you'll notice are very specific to my story and case. I hope that even despite the lack of sunny demeanor, you can relate and feel less alone for at least one moment. Without further ado, here is the entire letter to you.
Dear Invisible Illness Sisters,
You may or may not know me personally. But can we be completely honest? It doesn't matter if we have met or not. Because we already know each other.
We already understand the pain of our invisible illness. And, because of that, together we are sisters.
You may or may not know me personally. But can we be completely honest? It doesn't matter if we have met or not. Because we already know each other.
We already understand the pain of our invisible illness. And, because of that, together we are sisters.
I wish today I were writing you out of a place of hope and encouragement that everything is going to be okay. That reassurance and positivity is so important throughout this process. But can I be honest with you? Sometimes, that is JUST. NOT. POSSIBLE. I wish it were, and maybe it is for some people. And I am so happy for those who it is possible for.
But as someone who never got to live out my dream of having my own sweet baby, I know the stark reality of never realizing a dream you wanted so badly it physically hurts you. It physically hurts all the way from your heart. You feel it tightening your throat as your eyes begin to sting, all while feeling like your heart is being ripped to shreds inside your chest. Blinding anger but sheer defeat leaves you feeling both ready to fight and ready to just collapse onto the floor.
On my darkest days, I wonder...
What did I do wrong?
What did I do to deserve this?
What could I have done differently?
On my darkest days, I think to myself...
This is all my fault.
I am being punished.
I deserve this.
I did not do enough.
On my darkest days I tell myself...
It is probably best you did not have a baby because you have health issues and those health issues would be all your fault.
It is probably best you did not have a baby because there are challenges you would have faced with having a baby.
You have no biological connection to anyone you know and you never will...and shame on you for thinking biology means everything, even though you know that is not true.
You did not deserve a baby because you were not good enough.
This is your fault because you have endometriosis.
This is your fault because you did not listen to your gut instincts.
Friends, I know those statements are not true. Logically. But in the darkness, each of those feelings feels so real. It feels as real as those dreams I had for my sweet angels. It feels as heart-wrenching as those calls I got telling me we had nothing to transfer. I feel nothing but darkness and sorrow for what could have been. I feel nothing but contempt for myself because I feel like it is all my fault. After all, there is no such thing as coincidence, right? Or what do I know. I could not even have kids.
These places of darkness are so, so real. And they are lonely. And scary. So my plea to you tonight, my friends and fellow warriors is to please have someone you feel you can trust. Have someone you can be as brutally honest with as I was with you. I am also here. You can email me or message me on our Facebook page.
The darkness does lift. And the deeper into the darkness we are, the longer finding the light will take. But, the light will come, albeit dim. But even some light is better than none at all.
Love,
Your Infertility Sister
