Friday, January 25, 2013

inside out

"And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in."

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook the other day, and I think it speaks volumes about this journey.

I'm not the same person I once was. I don't have the same motivations or interests. My personality has changed. I'm not the passive person of five years ago. I'm more determined. I'm stronger. I'm more resilient.

I don't even look the same. Five years ago, I was young and vibrant. I rarely wore make up because I didn't have to. My skin was flawless, and my body felt youthful. Now? The dark circles under my eyes can't be covered by ordinary concealer, and they aren't from parenting. I'll never have the stomach I once did after two surgeries and countless hormones pumped into my body. My scars are hidden to the public, but when I strip off my clothes, I see them - the tiny lines that came with enormous pain.

Many people will argue that this is "getting older and wiser," but all of us who've been through infertility know that it ages you. I'm reminded of this every time I walk past the mirror. Every time I see my scars. Every time I look back on blog posts. Every time I look at my daughter.

It's almost impossible now for me to remember what life was like before this storm, but in a way, I don't want to. While that life seemed easier, I know now how unrealistic it was. It was unrealistic to think that pregnancy could come easily or that everyone who got pregnant stayed pregnant. It was unrealistic to expect that certain things would just happen. That I wouldn't have to work for them. That plans would always be in place.

I much prefer to live in a world where there are no expectations. Where plans are often thrown to the wind. Where I am not ignorant and blissful.

Do I wish I didn't have the scars to prove it? Do I wish I hadn't endured the storm to get here? Of course, but they are what makes me ME now. And as much as I hate the way my body looks from the outside most days, I like the way I look on the inside much better.


Reagan and Trevor's Mommy said...

Absolutely beautiful and so perfectly said!

jessica said...

Very well put. The infertility journey changes you forever. Mind, Body and Soul.

shutterbugwife said...

I don't think I could have said this any better. I think about this all the time. Sometimes I get so angry about the struggles we've had but when I step back and really look, I realize it is a part of who I am now. The girl I was three years ago when I thought we could just have a little sex and we would get pregnant is so foreign to me. I was incredibly naive and not near as strong as I am now.

Even though infertility sucks and hurts like hell, it makes you open your eyes, grow up and become stronger.

Kim said...

I love you Katie. Pure, raw, unfiltered beauty.

Michaela said...

"And as much as I hate the way my body looks from the outside most days, I like the way I look on the inside much better."


MrsMann said...

So well said!

Glass Case of Emotion said...

Well said!

missohkay said...

I just read the book that contained that quote (Kafka on the Shore if you're interested) and I highlighted it because it reminded me so much of my infertility journey. Great minds think alike!

Lollipop Goldstein said...

You did say it perfectly. It's the lessons you don't really want to learn, but if you were forced into learning them, at least you can know that you could out the better for it.

foxy said...

I saw that quote too and posted it on my blog last week. It is a really powerful statement and touches on really fundamental powerful life experiences.

I am not the same, nor are the people who know me, for better or worse.

The part of this quote that really struck me was: "You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over." I feel that everyday, like I'm not sure if we are on the other side yet, if another shoe will drop. It is as if the storm became a part of who I am somehow, and I have to let it go, to take that deep breath and continue on my journey.

But as I kiss the head of my sleeping baby, I do take that deep breath, and I know that I am not the same person who began this journey.

It Is What It Is said...

And, regardless of why, who would want to be the same anyway?

It is trite to say that life is about the journey and not the destination, but who would want to have the same view of it day in/day out?

So glad you love who you have become.