What If...

I was never meant to do this alone.

Next week is National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW), and in honor of that I am participating in Project IF. The initial stage of that project involved writing out your number one “What If” in regards to your battle with infertility. If you’re interested in seeing the list of “What If’s”, you can do so over at Stirrup Queens.

The second stage of Project IF involves expanding upon your "What If" in a blog post. I was honestly hesitant to write about my "What If". I was afraid it would be misinterpreted as my not being sure about my decision to go this alone. I was afraid people who have already questioned my plan would use this post as proof to themselves that I am not ready to be a mother. Most of the support I have gotten here in this space has been overwhelming and warm, but I do get the occasional person questioning what I’m doing. I didn’t want to feed those people even more fuel. I didn’t want to give them something to point at and say “See! I told you this was a bad idea!” I started to select one of the “What If’s” straight from the list to write about instead, simply because I felt like that was safer.

I realized though that I have never been anything but open about my feelings in this process. I don’t want to hide my true thoughts and fears solely because I don’t want to receive the backlash of people who don’t even know me. The people in my life who know and love me all support me 100% in this decision. They all stand by me, and most of them had their minds made up about what I should do when faced with this choice long before I did. They all know I am meant to be a mother, and that if that needs to happen now in order for it to happen at all - then it needs to happen now; man or no man. They all know this is right for me, and I will take comfort in that always.

My “What If” fits into the category of “How infertility impacted your “plans”/current choices/future decisions”.

My “What If” is:

“What if I was never meant to do this alone?”

That “What If” is so all encompassing to me. It goes far beyond the choices I am making right now. It starts years ago; even more than a decade ago. It starts with a girl who was so afraid of being hurt or let down, that she pushed every single person who ever cared about her away. It starts with a girl who decided the idea of marriage terrified her from a young age, and who instead chose to be as free and independent as possible. A girl who avoided real relationships at all costs.

I’ve often wondered if I hadn’t been that girl, would I be facing this alone now? Or would I have someone who loves and supports me by my side? Someone holding me when I cry and squeezing my hand through every scary appointment.

Was I meant to do this alone? Or was there another plan in the works for me that I threw away because I was too afraid of what allowing myself to love someone (and allowing them to love me back) could mean.

When this all started, the ex and I were actually together. It was my first real relationship; the first time I had allowed myself to give in to the idea of what "happily ever after" could mean. I bounced back and forth often between relishing in what it meant to have someone, and questioning every minor detail of that pairing. I think from some of the things I have written, it is easy to get an impression of him as being immature or cold. The thing you need to understand though, is that he was anything but that when we were together. He was open about his feelings for me, and considerate of my moods. He adored me, and everyone around us knew it. But I wasn’t good at being adored. I wasn’t good at being loved at all.

After multiple appointments complaining that something was wrong, I was finally able to get a doctor to really do a work up for me. Days after that appointment, I got a phone call saying that some of my results pointed to cancer and they needed me to come in for further testing.

I was very calm. Calculated even. I sent the ex a text message saying we needed to talk. When he called, I told him we were through. I gave him no explanation other than the fact that we weren’t going to work. I then drove to his house (while I knew he was at work) and left a few items I had for him sitting on his kitchen table. And we were done.

I had no point of reference for how else to behave. I had no idea what was really wrong with me, but I reasoned that whatever it was it wasn’t something he should be a part of. Everything hard in my entire life I had gotten through on my own. I had no idea how to rely on him or trust in him to carry me through. All I knew was how to do this alone.

And that’s what I did. I spent months trying to get to the bottom of what was wrong with me, and even after cancer was discounted – we still knew something was very wrong.

And I wasn’t able to own up to my need for him until it was all crumbling around me. By then, it may have been too late for him to really forgive me. By then, he had spent months thinking I didn't care; that I had never cared.

What if he was the person who was supposed to get me through this, and I threw him away?

What if God had never intended for me to embark upon this journey alone (and He put the ex in my life before my problems began so that he could be that support I would need), but it’s what I chose because I was too afraid of relying on another human being?

What if I robbed my child of the father they were supposed to have, because I was determined to be independent?

What if my child is now stuck with a sperm donor as a father, rather than a man who I have seen be an incredible father to the two children he already has?

What if I was never meant to do this alone?

I am strong. I am independent. I persevere.

I am capable of making this journey work on my own. I will be just fine if doing this alone is what has to happen.

But what if it’s not how it was meant to be? What if I have no one but myself to blame for why I am on this path alone? What if my stubbornness and independence has earned me this road to travel by myself?

And that is my “What If”. There are many others which weigh on my heart when I allow myself to think of them. “What if I can never conceive”, "What if choices I made in my past led to my condition now", “What if I will always feel like less of a woman because my body couldn't do this the natural way”, “What if I do get pregnant, only to suffer a miscarriage”, “What if this is the worst financial decision I have ever made and I simply can’t ever get back on track”. Those “What If’s” are capable of keeping me awake at night if I allow them to. They hurt me to contemplate, and I don’t know how I will face any of them if I should have to.

But my “What If”; the “What If” that wonders if I was never meant to do this alone? That is the “What If” that I feel the most responsibility for. The one that I think I hold the most blame in. The one that nags at me when I start to feel sorry for myself because I don’t have one of those supportive husbands that many women in my position can at least claim. The one that tells me that I don't get to be sad, because I deserve my solitude.

I do believe everything happens for a reason though. I believe God has a plan for me no matter what. I believe there is a purpose even behind the last year of battling with endometriosis. I believe the expedited time frame in all of this due to the aggression of my disease holds a happy ending in and of itself.

What if I do this alone and it turns out just fine?

What if the man I am meant to be with simply hasn’t appeared yet, but he will be an incredible father and husband when the time comes?

What if I am being driven to have a child now, because the child who comes into my life in this moment is going to grow to be someone incredible?

What if I went through all of this not only so I could love and appreciate my child more, but so that I could love and appreciate the man I am meant to be with more?

What if these are all lessons learned; lessons that will lead to a happier and more fulfilling life for me and my family?

And what if the man I love now does come around. What if, after everything is said and done, we are better and stronger because of all of this? What if we get a happily ever after that most people can’t even comprehend, because we had to fight for it?

What if this will all be worth it in the end?

For more information on infertility, check out Resolves website, and for more information on National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW), go here.