There comes a time...

Just over three years ago, my life changed forever. And no, it wasn't because of a pregnancy. That event wouldn't happen for another two years. I know this blog is primarily reserved for everything infertility but we are still on our break and, in all likelihood due to severe financial constraints while Jason is in school coupled with where we are emotionally, we won't be venturing down that path again while Jason pursues his doctorate (so thru 2015). But I have other things to say and since this is my "safe space," I plan to say them, infertility related or not.

As I was saying, just over three years ago, my life changed forever. Our life changed forever. Open heart surgery is no joke, and it was the most life altering, profound experience thus far in my 28 years. Lately, I've been feeling more and more that I need to talk about it, but in a way that is both cathartic as well as helpful to others, not just me rehashing the experience for the sake of reliving it. I have been through something most young people don't go through and I want to be there for someone else in a way that wasn't available to me. When I learned I would need heart surgery, I was filled with a fear that it truly hard to explain unless you have felt similar fear under similar circumstances. I had an amazing support group of family, friends and doctors but at the time, I didn't know anyone else with congenital heart disease, didn't know anyone else my age who had undergone open heart surgery, and felt so different, alone, and alienated. People tried but they couldn't truly understand, couldn't truly empathize. I yearned for a connection with another young survivor, even if just through a book. But no such book existed. At least not that I could find.

I graduated with a BA in Creative Writing. I have the skillset to embark on such a venture. I could write a book about my personal experience with heart surgery and life after. I could tell them what I felt, what I discovered, and how I arrived at feeling like myself again. I could write the book I wish I had been able to read during the darkest time in my life.

And I'm going to do it. I AM doing it.

It's been a long time coming, but it's time. I began working on the prologue on Monday night and wrote 4 pages, single spaced. I am so excited, so invigorated. I haven't felt like this in years. My writing has fallen by the wayside since I graduated 6 yrs ago. Some people write more when they're going through emotionally difficult life challenges, but it seems I am not one of those people. My creative juices dry up. For years, first with the infertility, then with the heart surgery and recovery, and eventually both, I could not find motivation or inspiration anywhere. I would write a poem every now and again, but they were far and few between. I am currently working on a children's book but the passion isn't quite there yet as it is with this project. With this book, I find myself looking forward to working on it. I daydream and brainstorm about topics to discuss and how to approach them. I write down chapter title ideas when they pop into my head and I feel a surge of excitement simmering below the surface just anticipating my next opportunity to write, to put it all down. It is overwhelming in some ways, too, because there is just so much. But I know that if I can just get it down on paper, and rework it bit by bit, that it'll get to where I want it to be. That it will become the ray of light for someone else that I so fervently wish it to be.

I want to reassure someone else out there that it will get better. That in time and with hard work, both emotionally as well as phyiscally, it gets better. I want them to know that what they feel is normal and real and important. That if they can just get through the surgery itself, through those first weeks of recovery, and focus on the bigger picture {LIFE} that one day, it will be okay again. I cannot guarantee that they will be the same, because I can't. Because they won't. An experience such as this leaves you forever changed. Everyone's situation is different and eveyone will experience it differently and "come out on the other side" in different ways. I needed a pacemaker. Others won't. I needed an ablation. Other's won't. But they may need things I didn't need. Maybe another surgery, maybe they'll struggle with chronic depression, maybe they'll need intense therapy, or maybe the surgery won't turn out as they had hoped and their prognosis will continue to be dire. But I want to try to be that hug they need, whatever their situation. Because I've been there, I've lived it, and I understand.

I am finally writing a book. And it fills me with an emotion I'm unaccustomed to feeling. I think it just may be Purpose. For a long time, especially when floundering through the hell of infertility, I felt as though I lacked purpose. My body wouldn't do what it was "meant" to do. I felt cheated. I felt angry and bitter. I lost a bit of myself. But I feel it coming back. Maybe this is another thing I'm "meant" to do. I haven't given up on having a family, but for now, I have found purpose, have found something that excites me, and makes me feel alive. And my goodness, I am so very grateful.