Infertility, and going through failed treatment after failed treatment, has pushed me into living in a different world: the world of in between.
Things in this world are never black and white. Everything in this world is gray.
I am not alive, but I am not dead.
Outside it is light, and inside it is dark.
I am not asleep, but I am not awake.
Outside I am happy, but inside I am sad.
I am not a parent, but I feel like a child.
Outside I am calm, but inside I am terrified.
I am not pregnant, but I am not pregnant.
I am just stuck, somewhere on the fence, waiting for someone to lift me up and pluck me down onto the greener pasture—the place where things are black and white, the place where I am happy (inside and outside), and the place where I am awake and alive.
I am not in hell, but I am not in heaven.
I am in purgatory, awaiting my fate.