There is a beautiful chateau in the middle of the woods. As I approach it, I am smiling. I can see the warm glow from within. There’s a chill in the air and it is starting to rain, so the comforting glow is more than a little inviting. I am drawn to the chateau. Its magical and charming. Maybe this time I’ll be allowed inside. I feel the chill in the air deepen and there’s a familiar voice in my head telling me to turn around, that its not worth it. But, if I don’t try to enter, I will never know what awaits for me inside. Don’t misunderstand; I have seen what awaits me. It is glorious. But, for some reason I am not allowed to enter. I have looked through the glass and what I have seen keeps me coming back for just one more try.
There have even been times when I have found what I thought must be the key. I usually stumble upon these keys after I have been searching for quite some time. Just when I think that all hope is lost, a key will appear. I think, “This is it! This MUST be it!” I usually run as quickly as I can to the chateau. I have been waiting to enter for quite some time, for years in fact. I run right up to the front door, I insert the key, my heart is so full of joy and hope that I feel as though it could pound right out of my chest. “This is it!” I attempt to turn the key, but there is nothing. Not a click left or right. Nothing.
I sit down on the little bench outside of the window and I look in. In these moments, when I was so close, when I’ve allowed myself to believe, I feel most alone. The rain is picking up and I am glad. This way, they won’t see my tears. I can see most of the women I know inside. They are all there. My best friends, my beloved family members, my colleagues, my neighbors, they are all inside. I can watch them enjoy the warmth. I am happy that they get to experience it, of course I am. If I were jealous, that would be ugly of me, and I am not an ugly person. I can observe the glow from afar but, for some reason, I have not been granted entry. I put my hand to the window as I sit and watch, all alone, tears rolling down my cheeks being met by raindrops. “Why am I not allowed inside?” I don’t understand.
Clearly they want me to enter. Some of them come to the window and put their hands to mine, but we can’t really touch. For I am outside and they are in. I see others holding back the tears in their eyes, trying to be strong for me. And then, there are those who would trade places with me in heartbeat if they could. But they cannot. I am on the outside looking in. I want to scream, to pound on the window and shake the door, but I can’t. I just don’t have it in me. My shoulders slump and I shake and sob. For some unknown reason, I am not permitted to come inside, to experience what seems to be their given right. It has become apart of who they are. It is part of what defines them as women, yet I am forced to sit, and watch, and wonder, and wait. Alone.
I tried to do my best to describe what it feels like for those of us who are patiently waiting to become mothers. I hope I did it justice. This was exactly where I was yesterday. It’s a dark and lonely place to be. Things are looking a little better today, I can see a tiny ray of sunshine trying to peek through the clouds.