Yesterday began with a dark sky and hard rain and hard wind. My drive to work, the sky lightened and suddenly there was a full rainbow, bright and clear, over my shoulder. I pulled off and watched it until it was gone. The sky was changing so fast, clouds flying by, clear one moment, cloudy, rainy, clear again.
I was late to work but it was completely worth it. Before it faded, a second arch showed for a few minutes, a ghost.
So many folks are out there struggling with identity issues, wondering who are we after all of this? So many new IF moms or IF pregnant ladies feeling like their lives are lived with a foot in each boat, like each one is somehow not quite true. Oh my heart aches and I know nothing I say can make a damned bit of difference since we cannot undo our experiences. This is what we have come to know, this is the shit we have slogged through or are in the midst of.
And for all of us, I hate that we say to ourselves that we ARE infertile, instead of "having" infertility. It is as if this has become us, we have become it.
Of course "having" it means there is a chance in hell to "lose" it. (dang, where did I put that infertility? must be around here somewhere---- OH to be so friggin lucky...).
And so I ask myself:
Is that truly who I am? Infertilekate?
What about kate who laughs and runs through sprinkers? what about kate who feels her heart swell when the cat deigns to sit upon her lap? what about hot shower bliss kate? flannel sheet kate? slow kiss kate? crying at npr kate? what about kate who writes? or paints? or catches snowflakes on her tongue?
WHY CAN'T THESE COUNT MORE RIGHT NOW?
In some ways the honest answer is that I feel so darned broken, it is impossible to forget the fucking struggle, and it is a struggle almost each and every moment. And this process, fueled by running out of time, just is consuming.
But me and the rainbow? for those moments, I was not even kate, I was not infertile, I was not broken. I was just wonder and awe.