Friday, July 20, 2012

tips on embracing infertility, an old sad memory*

1.  be brave and do it
2.  take the frames out, put them on the table
3.  get the photos of the last year out
4.  glow in the light of love
5.  cherish every single moment you captured with your camera
6.  feel gratitude
7.  let the happiness push up in your body... feeling as if it's going to run over
8.  stand back and smile
9.  hit the nail in the wall
10.  hang the photo frame
11.  live in the now

2 years ago, on a(nother) day that i longed for a baby, i went to a shop and bought R1 500 worth of photo frames.  Today, i organized the photos to put them in.  750 (plus) days later, i've grieved enough over our infertility and am i ready to let go of that memory/feeling. my heart is full. i am happy.

*thoughts/feelings on infertility ( memories in my mind the last 5 hours)... 

if you visit here often and know me, you will know that i always try to write about the positive things in my life... to use a negative event/feeling and to turn it around into something good.. .something that can add to your life too. after taking out the empty frames and writing this post, i've been 'embracing' those memories... letting them slip out... but i don't think that they will wander far... as i cherish them too, for they have been part of me for such a long time.

the day that i bought these frames, my heart was broken. for 10 years i (we)'ve been praying for a baby. i've been angry with God and then i would stop praying. the longing, the in-depth need to hold a baby, not necessarily from my womb, any baby, that i could mother was so overwhelming and blindsided me to anything else in life.  the thoughts of God not thinking that i am enough to mother, of what-else-must-i-do-to-show God that i'm worthy of this experience, this love, His love.  i couldn't bring together my life and how God viewed me... what did i do wrong? did He not love me enough to answer these prayers... what else must i do? how many years still, do i have to wait?

for most of the time these were the conversations i was having with Him.  most days the sadness was there. you wish you can understand it, but (most days) it was a deep, calm, sadness... like a photo of solitude. nothing. no ripples on the water. just sadness.  it can be a beautiful feeling.  for me it was. somewhere there must be an explanation for all this sadness.  somewhere in here, He must love me to teach me such beauty in sadness.  you paddle. you breath. you cry. you stop crying. you pray. you stop praying. you want to scream. but you don't. can't anybody see that i'm drowning? can someone help me?

and then. out of nowhere, the sadness goes deeper. you breath. you smile. you know it's happening. you trust in the process. you get up and you do what you have to do to show sadness that life is good. people love me. i am loved. (you want to ask: 'am i', )but you let that one slip, because the sun is out. it's shining. you are smiling, drifting on the sadness. you think you are riding the wave, but you know it will surface. again. when you least expect it. you hold on to hope, other people's stories. you pray. you smile. (and you pray some more).

sadness is not a joke. it cannot be fixed. it's a feeling that has to be loved and cherished, you have to feel it. you have to cry and scold and swear and forgive. you have to love even more, for the sadness will not be there if there was not the most extraordinary good thing in your life. the yin and yang. the darkness and light. the empty photo frames in the corner and the beautiful photo frames against the wall.

the sadness and the happiness.

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