One of my primary ambitions as a young girl was to become a writer. I’ve always enjoyed putting words to paper. Creating fantastical stories in my head and then watching them translate into short stories or poems, or sometimes just writing about my thoughts and feelings throughout the most crucial stages of my life, as a way of capturing my emotions at that point of time. Whichever, the written word has always enthralled me, helped me find solace and been my constant diversion from reality.
At the start of our passage towards family planning, I was full of hope and excitement for something I was confident would be a sure path. I was so naïve to the struggles that many women face, and conceitedly, infertility or loss was not something I fathomed would happen to me. It was an unspoken grief that many of my friends had already experienced, yet no one openly voiced. It was only after the fact, often when good news finally prevailed, or sadly when hope was lost, that stories were shared. But only sometimes!
Our path took a rocky approach from the very start, and my hopes of motherhood were not as accessible as I’d once foreseen. I wrote of my struggles, at first a personal journal of sorts. Something to help me take the experiences and feelings, and transforming my sorrow into reflection; it was an attempt to remain optimistic for the future.
What I realised was that there were so many unknowns on this fertility journey, so many things I had never assumed to expect. It was a quest for answers, a road that led to many dead-ends and an emotional and physical undertaking that I had never fathomed I would ever face.
Writing soon became a personal sanctuary, allowing the freedom to speak openly, with no questions, judgement or opinion. Words flowed openly and transparently, I felt unrestricted and my day by day account soon became a narrative memoir, and something I needed to share.
What I had dealt with, the anguish and uncertainty, the highs and lows, needed to be told, needed a voice. This was important to me, and I felt it could be important for others too starting their own journey, or reconciling their own experiences.
I admit that I am nervous, even somewhat fearful. My story; my journey will soon be open to the views and interpretations of others. It is the private and intimate account of my experience, and inside those pages are my own thoughts and feelings; blatant and candid, nothing left to hide.
So now I wait. I am truly thrilled at the prospect seeing my work ‘published’; I am anxious to understand its response and yet hopeful that it will inspire and help others. More importantly, I want to open the door on fertility, create an open space for others to find their voice, and feel confident expressing their pain.
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