I'm one of the lurkers in the blogosphere who has been living through the lives of others and yet now I feel the need to let my voice emerge.
I want to join the virtual conversation because I have realized that "the love you take is equal to the love you make."
My life so far....
I am 42 years old and about one year ago my body started falling apart on me just as the baby thing was starting to take hold and feel much more urgent (yes 41 is a little late for urgency but more on that soon enough). After 5 months of no answers the truth emerged - I was in full blown menopause, so deal with it. Since March I have been fighting the dreaded infertility beast and refusing to age gracefully.
I AM NOT READY! !!
Wasn't it just yesterday that I was skipping geometry and socializing with juvenile deliquents?
I spent my teenage years surviving my family and trying to get good grades. My twenties and thirities were about becoming successful, excercising compulsively and managing to find time to squeeze in some dates and sort of relationships.
My Mother raised me to be a "career girl" - nice 1950's terminology. She still uses it when she runs into her friends who ask about me, "oh she is in Washington DC, she's a career girl." My Mother - her lovely picture displayed on this Blog, is a product of her environment, Brooklyn College class of 58, worked for an insurance company for 1 1/2 years and then quit to get married in 1961, and never worked again. She wanted me to have the glamorous career that she gave up when she married my Father.
I also grew up in the era of "women can have it all." Is this really true? I don't have it all. I was so busy being "career girl" that I forgot to have children (which I do want) and now my body is telling me that although I may only be 42 my ovaries are 53 (this is the age when my mother went through mentalpause (sic) ).
My Mother raised two daughters as the stay at home Mom who greated us at the door each afternoon when we arrived home from school. She greated my Father with a fully prepared dinner every night and spent her days ensuring that the house was scrubbed from top to bottom.
I don't long for what she had. But I do believe that things do come full circle. Fish can choose to take rides on bicycles - they don't have to, but maybe they want to, just a thought...
So how did I get here? your guess is as good as mine.