Yesterday I picked up a magazine in the clinic's waiting room and flipped through it. The bold lettering of "On her struggles with infertility" jumped out at me; it was the June issue of Ladies' Home Journal featuring excerpts from Laura Bush's memoirs. Thanks to being hepped up on estrogen I got teary-eyed after reading the paragraph. My first impulse was to take the magazine, but I realized that wasn't right and that other women might like to read it as well. So, I left the magazine open to the paragraph and bought myself a Ladies' Home Journal yesterday afternoon. Like others struggling with infertility, I find comfort and strength knowing that I'm not alone...that others have travelled the same road. Just wish more women in the public eye who have gone through infertility would be more open and vocal about their experience.
"...each milestone came and went. The calendar advanced, and there was no baby. The English language lacks the words 'to mourn an absence.' For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only 'I am sorry for your loss.' But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?"
Laura Bush, Ladies' Home Journal, June 2010
3 comments:
Ah ... I've read that quote too. It was in her memoir; one I'd never thought I'd ever pick up (seeing as I really didn't like her husband ... but that's beside the point). I was curious enough to want to read what she had to say about her own infertility and I thought that was so eloquently written. Thanks for sharing it here ... and I hope that the next week goes by quickly for you!
Wow, that is both profound and poignant an unlike anything I've read. That last line is especially gut wrenching and describes the absence perfectly.
That sums it up so beautifully, doesn't it.
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