Run away

I have not.

Well, let’s say that in a certain way I did run, as one is just letting it be. It has been exactly four months since my IVF treatment was interrupted and I was back to the good ol’ pain of infertility in its whole shape of inability and helplessness.

So I let time go by (a little). I invented a few full-time hobbies.

Now it is time to stop and feel it all again. As soon as my next period is here my dearest is calling the nurse and I’m back to injecting my tummy. And I’m looking forward for it.

If it is true that we learn lessons, the one that I’m always acknowledging is that we do have to give things their time.

Four months ago I was devastated, both by my bio-reality and bad practice reality. I could hardly breathe without exercising not to cry. I had to struggle not to fall into my bed and stay there.

But I was not alone, I was not suffering alone.

There was my love and he was also suffering, this was something new for him. He has a son. He desires to have a child with me. He heard my stories about the past, but he had no idea how much it could hurt. And there I was aching twice, for us.

And time: Three months ago we had Christmas and all the availability it takes. Two months ago I started all the craziness around organizing a poetry festival in my city. It happened last weekend, from Thursday to Sunday. It was a great success and so on.

Now it is time for courage, again. And as soon as we made our call to the biologist today it all came back: the desire to keep all the healthy habits and that feeling of the heart filling with hope.

That’s what I meant about giving things their time. One month ago, if you had asked me about my treatments, I’d probably tell you I wasn’t very much into it, and was even considering a longer break. And I would have meant it.

We gave it time. And we are back.

Now starting a baby-step (like the irony of the expression?) process in which we may fail mid–way through our journey. But there is no other way to build our story. That’s what we believe in today, so that’s what we are doing today.


 And now, a poem: From the portuguese:
Respectful repetition

You draw overlapped rocks.
You animate infertility
On the drought of the metaphor’s tyranny.

A respeitosa repetição

Desenhas pedras sobrepostas.
Na aridez da tirania da metáfora
Animas a infertilidade.

Paulo Azevedo

  • o teu carlos


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