Some time ago, I read a painful post about a woman feeling left behind. Her infertility group was pregnant. I read this with compassion, hoping one day she can get to where I am now.
I don’t feel left behind anymore. I just feel like I’m on a different journey, I’ve taken a different fork in the road, and I’m moving ahead, parallel to my friends with children, but not further ahead or further behind. Their road is well-trodden, well-signposted, and with lots of support stops on the way. It isn’t always easy – there are hurdles and ambushes and disappointments on this path, as there are on mine. But generally it is more populated, and the people walking this path are doing so with friends, and family. They’re getting encouraging messages from people who are a bit further up the road. They’re also encouraging people from my road to cross over, telling us how easy it is, and how we’ll regret it if we don’t, letting us feel their pity for walking our road.
But those of us on my road can’t, or don’t want to, cross over. And the view from our road is fabulous, but different. Sure, we have the occasional pothole, and we often walk this path alone, without the hordes of friends and family over on the other road. And, for those of us who had to veer off the other road, onto this one, not by choice, the way is initially very steep. But eventually it evens out, and we stop and take a breath, sit and watch the scenery. And it is amazing, unexpected, and breathtaking. And we smile.