I'll put a pebble in my shoe
And watch me walk, I can walk and walk
I shall call the pebble dare
We will talk together about walking
Dare shall be carried, and when we both have had enough
I will take him from my shoe, singing, "Meet your new road"
- By My Side
One more month (minus a day) to go until the next appointment. I am wondering whether to stick up a giant calendar in my study with large red X's to mark the progress of time. Or maybe I will just claw another notch in the walls of my cell with my blunted, bloody stumps of fingers.
I was thinking today about the apparent and sudden mass migration from blogging. I have also noticed a few comments elsewhere along the lines of "It's a sad time in Blogland"- not specifically in reference to the migration as such, but more in terms of things just going badly in certain quarters. And that in turn reminded me of a conversation I had the other night with a fellow blogger, in which we mutually commiserated that we were stuck dealing with infertility, and really, wasn't that just basically shitty. Why us?
What I think is this: by definition, a community such as ours at any one time is more than likely to beset by bad and disappointing news. For every happy announcement, at that precise moment, there is almost certainly going to be somebody else laid low by crushing disappointment. I mean, let's face it, would any of us be here in the first place if things were going so great? We are, by our very nature, a group of women (and a few men- sit up BHM, I am talking about you) drawn together by a particular problem.
We bring our own set of baggage to the tour bus, but almost all of us have bought the season pass for the same reason. A lot of us sign up at a point where things have become so unbearable that we simply cannot live in our own heads anymore, and for the sake of our sanity, need to tell someone our particular story, even if that story is relayed in raw, frayed, gasping segments.
So to my mind, it is not really surprising that on many occasions, and at any given time, that the Way of the IF Blogger is bound to be underpinned with a fine and widespread pattern of sadness.
There have been many days when I have logged on to read news from a fellow castaway that has cut me to the core. A reaction made all the more remarkable, given that I have never met any of you in the traditional sense, and wouldn't know you if I bumped into you at the bus stop in "real life". Sometimes, I feel so sick at heart after reading the latest round up of blog posts from my friends that I wonder why I do it at all. I wonder how much sadness can one stalwart little band of kickass women endure.
I suppose the answer to that is in some cases, a finite amount. However, what I take from my time along the great roll of blogs is more often than not balanced with a large helping of laughter, a generous portion of perspective, and a constant reminder that nothing in life should be taken for granted. Sometimes I wish more than anything that we could all meet up in a parallel universe, where our stories were brighter, and the heartache and sadnesses were merely illusions. A place where we were were all guaranteed an upgrade to happy endings.
But we are where we are, and I expect that we'll continue to take the rough with the smooth. Unfortunate as it may be that it took infertility to bring us to this place- well, I can't help but be damned glad to meet you all the same.
And for those that are going, or taking a break, I wish you well and godspeed, on all your new roads.