I heard a new term today…Infertility Closet.
And it dawned on me that I am currently living in my very own self made “infertility” closet.
Admittedly I have always been a very private and guarded person ever since I was a little girl.
Exhibit A: my anonymous blog that you are currently reading.
It’s true; no one has ever labeled me as an open book. And self disclosure is not my best friend. Therefore infertility has contributed to the veiling of my persona even that much more.
Two years ago, sometime after my miscarriage, I began avoiding places and people if it meant that I may have had to talk about my loss. I felt vulnerable and thought I was doing the right thing by avoiding, but the behavior soon escalated into a norm and my personal relationships suffered greatly. Yes, through this infertility journey connections have been lost and friendships estranged. This part of infertility feels maddening and yet I realize that I have single handedly created my own “infertility closet”.
And for what?
Self preservation? My sanity?
So that I can pretend to be me before I was deemed infertile?
Not somebody that miscarried.
Or somebody whom always wanted to be a mother but can’t .
Or somebody that tirelessly tries to conceive cycle after cycle and fails each and every time.
Or somebody who is jealous of every fertile person who walks this earth.
Is this why I choose to stay in this protective bubble called the infertility closet? This place that protects me and allows me to continue to be myself without feeling exposed or revealing my raw wounds for all to see.
I realize that this can’t be healthy, but at this time, I don’t know any other way.
I also realize that in time, this protective “bubble” will not be big enough to sustain my needs and that I will be forced to grow my wings and move through to the other side; infertile and vulnerable with wounds showing and all.