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Carrying the Weight of Lies

After the Laparotomy (to remove the tubal pregnancy), I was broken. "Everything happens for a reason". That's what I told myself and I started to believe it. I continued through my days as if nothing had happened. I didn't talk about it with others (not even my husband). I internalized the pain and often blamed myself for why this was happening. I chalked it up as God's way of punishing me for decisions I made in the past. I felt alone on my little island of infertility. Yes I had friends and family, but they could only go so far with me. I didn't want sympathy, I wanted understanding. I wanted answers. I wanted someone who could relate to the pain I was feeling.


I stuffed deep down the pain of losing a child I had never met, the wanting of motherhood. I put a smile on my face and went on with my life. I was the only one of my siblings that had not yet had children. Whenever we would get together with friends and family, the question was always asked ".. So when are you having kids?" or "What are you waiting for?". With a smile on my face I answered " Oh no, we're good, we're enjoying life right now". The reality was that I did want a child, but I was unable to conceive. I'm sure friends and family meant well with their questions, having no clue what we had gone through. But every time the question was asked, it bubbled up those feelings again. Those feelings that I had tried to burry so deep.


More time passed, more questions were asked and more feelings surfaced in me. I had again convinced myself that I didn't want children. That children would somehow be a hinderance to this magical life I wanted to live. But every time I saw a child or spent time with my nieces and nephews, it tugged at my heart. Every time someone asked the question "when are you going to have kids?", a piece of me broke.


Family and friends continued to ask. I would continue to give my rehearsed responses and this cycle continued for years. I was so good at the lie that eventually close friends and relatives just stopped asking the question. Even my husband believed what I was saying. I had mastered the art of deflection and masks. I succeeded in convincing myself that motherhood was not for me. I told myself so many lies through this process. Here are just a few:

  • I was stranded on the infertility island all alone

  • God was punishing me for my past

  • Motherhood was not for me

  • I'm fine/I'll be fine

  • I could cover up the pain of my loss

  • No one understands my pain


I told myself these lies to cope with the fact that my body was not capable of doing the one thing it was designed to do. These lies shielded me from judgement and vulnerability. These lies covered me, they were my safe haven in a space I felt exposed. However, underneath the shield of lies, I was broken. Although everyone on the outside looking in saw a sturdy structure, my foundation was crumbling. I could no longer carry the weight of the lies.


Do you feel like you are suffering alone in silence? Have you told yourself any version of these lies? Do you need someone to talk to that understands what you are going through? If you answered yes to any of these questions, contact me for a free consultation. You are not alone!


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