Last Sunday (27th October) I experienced a tidal
wave of emotion that had been brewing since about one week after officially
starting my blog and which grew to an almighty climax just hours after
publicising it on facebook. I felt utterly raw and exposed – scared to death of
that fearful eye of judgement which might only come in the form of nonchalance,
flippant clichés or dismissive silence, but would be enough to make me feel
even further isolated from the world.
I seized this feeling of panic to do the only thing I could
do given the momentum of my journey, already well underway. I decided to go and
see my GP, my ever-supportive doctor who was there for us both the whole way
through our ectopic and IVF saga. It was for this reason that I wanted to see
him specifically and that I was
practically sick with nerves, provoked by an overload of shame, before entering
his room. What if he made a casual
remark about “still not being happy”? I didn’t think I could take it in my emotionally
vulnerable position. But within seconds, I blurted out my “confession”, along
with an eruption of tears. And from that point, I was able to chat quite calmly
while he listened without emitting any air of criticism.
It might not seem like such a big deal, popping down the
local surgery for a chat…but it was so
much more than that. It was a sign that I felt ready to put my hand up and say,
“I need help” and that I was willing to have this officially documented on my
medical records. I very soon realised after that appointment that the help I
really needed was simply to be heard and understood. We did discuss Cognitive
Behavioural Therapy classes which I will attend with great interest in learning
the techniques behind nurturing positive thought. But I know that the real key
to this sense of liberation which is growing stronger inside me day by day is
that I have finally found my voice.
A close friend of my parents wrote these poignant words to
me before she had even read my blog:
“Dear Zoe….I will read with
interest and even before doing so am admiring of your honesty and generosity in
sharing your massive challenges with others. I am big into coming out as a way
of claiming and declaiming our own truths and of ending speculation and
assumptions.”
She then sent me an email the following day which I wanted
to share with you all because it is far, far
too special to keep to myself:
“You describe your struggles….the
roller coaster….the joys and the blows…without holding back which is admirable.
I think that you and your husband have found ways of making love that are untrammelled
by stereotypes and although they may not correspond to the myths we are sold
are actually part of an honest conversation. I have always thought of
lovemaking as just another extension of loving communication…that doesn’t
always or ever follow some prescribed recipe for pleasure. Take pleasure in the
real.”
Upon reading these words, I burst into tears….beautiful,
happy tears to have found someone able to perfectly articulate such a profound
depth of understanding. As time goes on
I’m feeling increasingly nurtured and supported by YOU…..my readers. It means
the world to me, knowing you are there and that you understand.
My mum sent me a text after having finished reading through
my posts. She said: “I hope the three of you can feel my arms around you and
hear a heart beating with love.” My eyes still well up with tears every time I
think of her words – my beautiful, perceptive mother who feels my pain as her
own.
For four years, I grieved the absence of a child. I hated
myself and doubted myself as a loving wife for my inability to enjoy sexual
intimacy. And now….I feel released, for I finally have the strength and courage
to let myself grieve the loss of my womanhood and to speak out about what that
means to me and to us as a couple. I know I will never fully recover from this
loss. But by speaking out, I can live with love and truth in my heart. This
dream is ours to keep.
No comments:
Post a Comment