From the Waiting Room of Uncertainty

I don’t know what got into me but I’ve been trying to organize and clean every corner of my house lately. I have washed and arranged clothes for next season, clean every single jar in my kitchen and gone through many drawers. I’m beginning to feel a little Martha Steward-ish.

Last week while organizing my messy desk, I unearthed one of my notebooks. Growing up, I always kept one by my side so I could write all what came to me, from random thoughts to some poetry. Reading through the one I ran into last week, I found writings about all the feelings I experienced while going through fertility treatment and I decided to share one of the poems here with you.

I want to do this for all the women who have wanted to be mothers so bad that they embark on a trip with science that often times is painful, long and psychologically harsh but that after having your baby in your arms is so worth it. I also want to share it because of all the women I know that are still trying and who find themselves gluing together the pieces of their broken hearts every month. You are not alone and you are still in my mind all the time.

The majority of the time I find that words flow better in Spanish and that is why almost all my writings are in that language. I will include the original text and the translation so those who speak Spanish can read it with all the emotion that I poured in it. Is not that the English version isn’t emotional; I just think that the original text tastes better.

In the Waiting Room of Uncertainty

I find myself one more time here, in the waiting room of uncertainty, with my heart beating so hard that it appears to be running away from my body.

The faces of strangers hiding their eyes from mine. We look at each other from the corner of our eyes, almost in secrecy. We are all here for the same reason: to look for a cure to this infertility.

The anguish of knowing that I followed the scientific instructions to the t without having the certainty that finally, inside me, a life will begin, consumes me.

The months get long when one counts their days around the menstrual cycle, trying not to turn sex into something mechanical, scheduled; waiting for the pinches of needles to return with positive news.

My soul melts when my tired eyes no longer have the strength to cry. My pores close to prevent my soul from escaping, to lock it inside me, next to the demons of my frustration that shake my bones.

Another time the waiting, the long hours before receiving the call that would proclaim the results of this match against destiny. How sad is the final score! Destiny has won again.

Failure knocks on the door again: I am not pregnant. My body had already warned me of this, but when one places all of her cards on the table, thinks that with positive thoughts, evasion to reality turns into hope.

I would love to see the sky and guess in a wink of a star the month, the year in which a sparkle of life will fill my body and will start growing roots inside what is mine.

I long to know that I’m inhabited, to feel a life clinging to this world from within me, to taste again the sweetness that my first pregnancy gave me –even though it ended too soon.

I would love to have you between my arms, angel of mine! To see you smile, to discover a new universe inside your eyes. When will you cling from my body and turn into a baby of flesh and blood?

So many pregnancy test, so many hours, so much time waiting in front of a crossed off calendar, and so many jars of medicine with precise indications prove that it does not matter how much science cares to preserve life, it will never be able to create it; it does not matter how precise it is…

En la antesala de lo incierto

Otra vez aquí, en la antesala de lo incierto, con el corazón latiéndome tan fuerte que pareciera que se saldría huyendo de mi cuerpo.

Las caras de extraños, sus ojos que se esconden de los míos pero que sabemos nos miramos de reojo, casi en secreto. Todos estamos aquí por el mismo motivo: para buscarle una cura a este infertilidad.

Me carcome la angustia de saber que seguí las instrucciones de la ciencia al pie de la letra sin tener la certeza de que por fin dentro de mí empezará una vida.

Son largos los meses cuando se cuentan los días an torno al ciclo menstrual, tratando de que el sexo no parezca mecánico, agendado; aguardando a que los pinchazos de agujas regresen con noticias positivas.

Se me derrite el alma cuando mis ojos, cansados, ya no tienen fuerzas para llorar. Se me cierran los poros para no dejarla escapar y encerrarla dentro de mí junto con los demonios de mi frustración que me sacuden los huesos.

Otra vez la espera, las largas horas antes de recibir la llamada que proclamará los resultados de esta partida contra el destino. ¡Qué triste suena el marcador final! Otra vez ha ganado el destino.

El fracaso vuelve a llamar a la puerta: No estoy embarazada. Ya mi cuerpo me lo había advertido pero cuando uno se lo juega todo, cree que con pensamientos positivos, la evación a la realidad se torna en esperanza.

¡Cómo quisiera ver al cielo y adivinar con el guiño de una estrella, el mes, el año en que una chispa de vida invadirá mi cuerpo y empezará a echar raíces dentro de lo mío.

Añoro saberme habitada, sentir una vida aferrándose a este mundo desde mis adentros, volver a probar el dulzor aquel que me dio mi primer embarazo – aunque fuera fallido.

¡Cómo me gustaría tenerte entre mis brazos, angelito mío! Verte sonreír, descubrir un nuevo universo entre tus ojos. ¿Cuándo será que te prenderás de mi cuerpo y te me harás un bebé de carne y hueso?

Tantas pruebas de embarazo, tantas horas, tanto esperar frente a un calendario tachado y tantos frascos de medicamentos con indicaciones precisas me comprueban que por más que la ciencia cuide a la vida, jamás podrá crearla, no importa que tan exacta sea.


2 thoughts on “From the Waiting Room of Uncertainty

  1. I love getting to know you better through your blog, Sel. Thanks for sharing. I’m so sorry you went through that and I’m glad you have your baby girl; she’s beautiful!

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