Something weird has happened.

I think I’ve gotten a little bit comfortable living this infertile life. I seem to have accepted this reality on a lot of levels. I seem to be ok, most of the time, with the whole not-having-kids-right-now-no-idea-how-we’ll-get-any thing. I’ve made it through some seriously shitty times, and have emerged, still me. I think my coping skills have really kicked in (honed to perfection over 2.5 years of agony?), and now I am able to get through life, feeling nearly normal most days. Well, a new normal. There are teary times. And angry times. And some very bad days. But, I’m really doing ok.

I remember hearing from women further down the path than I, and listening to them talk about acceptance, and me thinking, loudly: “BULLFUCKINGSHIT. That is just bullshit. How could anyone ever accept this hell. You are lying to yourself. I will never accept this.”

But, I guess if you live with the pain long enough, it becomes less painful. You learn how to manage it. You survive. And it all looks a bit like acceptance.

Weird.