A little bit more...

The hope I blogged about yesterday is bubbling a teensy weensy little fountain inside my soul today.

Being 40 doesn’t mean my life is over.

Yes I know they say life starts at 40, and that it’s a time when everyone is taking stock of their lives. But no matter how hard I prepared myself for this landmark birthday, it still remains a struggle to let go of my thirties.

Sarah Solitaire has a post about an issue that I tried to ignore for too many years. Her therapist advised her to be open to having a relationship in her life. That she needs to be focussing on things other than infertility, so that if she never gets pregnant, she would have some sort of a life to pick up and can see some future in.

Eish.

(And for those of you who don’t know this word: it’s something South Africans say when they feel confused about an issue and don’t really have an answer. You pronounce it “eye-sh”)

Solitaire said the following in answer to her therapist’s advice: “I'm not really open to a relationship. I'm safe in my little solo bubble. OK, it's boring a lot of the time, but it's safe. I'm really not interested enough in the positives of a relationship for the want of those things to outweigh the desire to remain safe. Or at least for me to want to go out and actively try to find a relationship. Opening myself up to someone has only caused hurt in the past, so it's something I tend not to want to do. So, it is something I need to work on, I guess. I am trying to repeat to myself that I am open to a relationship.”

My sentiments exactly.

I’ve been building this wall against men so high and strong that it would take nothing less than a superman to get to me. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not anti-men, a wannabe lesbian, or a fiery feminist. I’m just too damn scared of having a real life committed relationship again with someone that lives with me, sleeps in my bed, and share a bathroom and everything else with me.

Growing old alone is something that scares me silly. So how on earth do I get from where I am and feeling like I do about a new relationship to having someone rocking with me on the porch when I’m old and grey?

And here is where that little fountain of hope turns into a flickering ember of hope. If I hurry up, and open up, I might just find someone in time to beat my biological clock, and we might just beat the odds and be able to make a baby and be a happy family…

And maybe, just maybe, I would one day wake up feeling my loving husband’s hand on my swollen tummy, the smile on his lips and in his eyes matching mine, the sun painting golden bands of colour into our room… and I’d know that miracles are a reality and that Infertility is but part of a bad dream that is finally over…

Let me sleep a little bit longer, let me hope a little bit more.

After all, most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all. Dale Carnegie believed it, and so will I!

PS: You might think I'd take the husband just to have the baby, but I want it all. I want a family, and right now I wouldn't even mind if the child wasn't my own. A daddy and a mommy and some pink feet, big or small, as long as the number is bigger than 2. More than 2 people in my little family that is :) not just more than 2 feet!