I’ve written three books. Two novels and one memoir. The memoir was my first labor of love that I delivered from beginning to end. It is my story of infertility, adoption and finding hope in loss. It is raw. I wonder sometimes now if maybe I should pull it from the market. If it’s too much to be out there for the general public.
I feel like I’ve grown since I first published No Maybe Baby and that perhaps it’s time for that piece of my life to quietly take a bow and exit stage right. I’ve received some less than semi less than stellar reviews. People don’t like the first part of the story. The part where I talk about the pain and heart ache of infertility. They say it’s depressing. They say I should just be happy for what I have. They say the second half is much better.
Maybe they’re right. The other side of this story isn’t so scary. It’s full of adoption and the changes and joy and trials that go along with bringing kids of various ages and backgrounds into your home. It’s much more pleasant to talk about these things, and so I wonder if maybe it’s time to say goodbye to this first book. But…..
But if I were to say goodbye it would be like saying my story doesn’t matter. It would be saying to all those women who have struggled with infertility and sent me messages and emails and shared their story that theirs doesn’t matter either. And I’m not okay with that. Writing No Maybe Baby was my therapy. It isn’t pretty, but neither is infertility. Sometimes the best things to read are the hardest to process.
My story matters. Your story matters. Each of our stories is important and meaningful. Each of us has a journey, our own pilgrims progress through this life. There are times when life is hard. And times when it’s even harder. That is the beauty that makes us who we are. We are refined by the fire. We stretch and grow under the pressure. It doesn’t break us, though we think sometimes that it will. Infertility didn’t brake me. Infertility made me brave. It made me strong. It is part of my story.
So it may make some people uncomfortable. Usually the things worth discussing do. But if there is one person, just one, who sat reading my story with tears in their eyes, shaking their head yes and knowing for the first time that they are not alone-then every review that says I’m bitter, every comment that says my story is depressing, is worth it. Because one glimmer of hope is brighter than any bad press.
Our stories matter. Our stories change lives. It doesn’t matter if they don’t reach mass market or fame level, if one life is touched, then it’s all been worth it.
I want to hear your story. I want to see you’re bravery. I want you to know that your story matters.