So, it's now eleven years of marriage. The patterns. The routines. The realisation that marriage is all the things my Mum told me it would be, and then a whole lot more. It has been 11 years of waiting, believing and having faith.
I learnt a lot from my Mum, the ability to love a man without losing myself. The grace to pray in the face of trying times. The strenght to laugh through the hurt and to forgive, over and over again. I learnt to be content with whatever I am given, while fighting for everything I want. I learnt to build and nurture people around me. I learnt to love unconditionally. I learnt to give, without expecting anything back. I learnt to keep my expectations real. I learnt to reach for the stars. I learnt to dream and dream big and I learnt to believe in the veracity of my dreams. I learnt a lot from all the wonderful people, both men and women that have been and the ones that still are in my life and on most days, I feel like life, marriage and relationships are not so bad after all.
What my mum, and indeed any one, didn't prepare me for was, what it entails to not have a child of my own. She didn't tell me. Nobody warned me that I will experience this heart wrenching pain and occasional feelings of emptiness and loneliness. I was not informed that I will be subjected to the judgement of people. I wasn't told that the society will exclude me from certain "rights" and that I would not be accepted into the "inner circles" of people who have carried a pregnancy to term or cradled a child. I was not prepared to be told that I haven't fulfilled my "... wifely role, ...why he married you..."
The first 8 months of marriage, my husband and I lived in different continents but, a month after the wedding, I started getting the questioning looks. After my menstruation came and it was obvious to people that I was not with child, people started asking me when I was going to join my husband. When eventually I joined him, the pressure started, silently at first and then went on mounting and hasn't stopped.
Of course, when I was first married, I did not even imagine the possibility of joining the ranks of Abraham and Sarah, of Elkanah and Hannah, of Elizabeth and Zechariah, but over the years, I have been constantly reminded of these keys figures and the miracles that were the conception and birth of their offsprings.
Before marriage, I had been a "good girl". I was mostly considered a decent and responsible girl, the kind that would get pregnant immediately she meets a man. I was the kind of girl some mothers used as an example for their daughters, I was a good example, not that it matters now, because, now after almost 11 years, I am now the kind of woman people whisper about behind my back. I am now the woman people are asking "... who knows what kind of life she must have lived as a young girl..."
Before marriage, I had been a "good girl". I was mostly considered a decent and responsible girl, the kind that would get pregnant immediately she meets a man. I was the kind of girl some mothers used as an example for their daughters, I was a good example, not that it matters now, because, now after almost 11 years, I am now the kind of woman people whisper about behind my back. I am now the woman people are asking "... who knows what kind of life she must have lived as a young girl..."
About 6 months after I joined my husband, I started seeing the look of annoyance and irritation on his face every time my period showed up. It wasn't just the fact that I hadn't taken in, it was also that my periods are usually accompanied with such pains. He said he couldn't stand seeing me in such pain and everybody said that once I got pregnant, the pains will stop. I was getting worried and then a year after, the visits to the doctors started. The fasting started. The calls intensified. The "...don't worry, we are praying for you..." became a part of every single conversation I have with friends and families.
I have received countless recommendation of doctors who have worked wonders for other women. I have even been told the medications that other women have used to conceive.
I have suffered the pitying looks, the well-intended, but nevertheless annoying questions, the times when friends and families have asked you "..., but, what exactly is wrong?, like something has to be wrong. The times when some close friends and family members tell you that it seems that you're not worried about "your situation" because you look happy and fulfilled and you're busy doing other things rather than being at home crying, looking dejected and calling pity parties.
The times when other women tell you "you won't understand..." when they talk about how stressful their kids-filled lives are, or about how demanding it is to take care of the kids. The times when they express surprise that you can bathe a day old baby, when they marvel that you understand baby talks. The look on the faces when they see you having fun and a great time with other people's kids.
I have both been annoyed and amused by the people who told me that why it seems that I am doing well in my chosen profession is because I still don't have kids. The times when I have been told that why I'm still in "such great shape" is because I haven't got kids. The times when I have been told to enjoy "my slender figure" because after the kids, that would change. The times when I have been reminded that I am able to travel for work, meet with friends for dinner, buy the kind of clothes I like and eat what I like is because I haven't got kids.
I have been through that time, when different people tell you not to eat this or that because it affect your chances of having a child, the times when I have been asked not to work so hard, because it will affect my fertility. The times when people smile "stupidly" when you tell them you had the flu, and they ask if it's the "good" flu. The looks they give me when I gain or lose a little weight here and there.
I have had friends get pregnant and seem to be in turmoil as to whether to share their good news to me and how to tell me, as if they felt guilty or bad for being pregnant.
I have had friends get pregnant and seem to be in turmoil as to whether to share their good news to me and how to tell me, as if they felt guilty or bad for being pregnant.
I have prayed, I have fasted. I have been to doctors, done all sorts of tests, scans and what-have-you, and we've been told nothing was wrong with either of us. I have done quite a number of IVFs, with all its accompanying psychological pain and associated trauma when it fails. I have taken herbal treatments. I have waited, and waited and waited and now it's almost eleven years, and I'm still waiting, my faith still strong and unflinching.
I am aware that most people act and speak with "good" intentions. I acknowledge that in their minds they want me to be happy and they feel that they are being helpful. I am not saying these things are good or bad, I am not judging anyone, neither am I crying for pity here. I don't love a lot of these people less. I absolutely will not want most of these people to stop being a part of my life. I am just sharing my story, saying it as it has been with me, these past 11 years.
I am still standing tall. My faith is still strong and unmoving. I am still waiting, still believing, still working hard and enjoying my job, still busy with living and loving my life and the people in it.
I'd love to read your comments...!
I'd love to read your comments...!
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