It was my 38th birthday and while I was living my long awaited, hard fought dream of motherhood, I was feeling rather disillusioned. I was hurting and I was confused and I was learning some very painful lesson’s about who my friends were, that whole, reason, season, lifetime thing. As my season as an infertile was ending, so were a number of precious friendships which, now looking back, I realize were purely seasonal friendships.

It was a painful time where I experienced betrayals like I hadn’t experienced since my school days. It was a time of being excluded, of feeling lonely and depressed and confused. Of hearing how others, while asking for my support to my face, spoke about me behind my back. It was time of being completley misunderstood. How could they understand what I was going through, how do any of us understand or even comprehend what those first months of motherhood are like – let alone those of us who are thrust so suddenly into the midst of it. My inability to drop by, drink wine, offer support was mistook for indifference when in fact I barely had my head above water and was in no way, shape or form able to hold anyone else up in the process, it was taking every ounce of my strength to hold it together for myself, for my husband, for our baby. I had nothing left to give, nothing to offer, I was trapped in my own drowning pool with few I could turn to or rely on to help keep me afloat, it was, as anyone who has experienced the difficulties of early motherhood and especially those of us who have experienced the difficulties of early motherhood after a long struggle with infertility, a very lonely time.

I have made no secret of the fact that I struggled to adapt to motherhood. It happened so suddenly and was nothing like pink tinged, soft and cuddly times I’d expected it would be. It did not see Walter and I staring dreamily into each others eyes while a baby slept angelically and silently  in the stroller between us. It was HARD! It was the HARDEST thing I’ve ever done. We were exhausted from nights of no sleep. We were overwrought with anxiety about the 60 day consent period and about the legalities that followed that, we were overwhelmed with the responsibility of so suddenly being required to care for a new baby, we were frozen by the awe of the amazing miracle that had so rapidly unfolded before us.

My birthday last year saw me sad. Very very sad and very lonely. We stayed at home, we didn’t go anywhere. I got very few birthday messages and certainly very lukewarm wishes from the people I’d expected to embrace me. There was a lot of passive/aggressive B.S. on the go, of which I share responsibility. People were forced to take sides in an ugly situation and I didn’t play the game well, I’m not good at being a victim or playing the victim, I’m a fighter and I fought to defend and protect myself in the only way’s I know how.

Thankfully, a year has past and a lot has happened. The pain of the losses of that time still sting and there is still a certain amount of bitterness but with time, these are healing.

Today its my 39th birthday and I find myself in a very different place to where I was a year ago. I’d like to thank all my friends for spoiling me and making me feel so very special this year.

So much clarity and so much water under the bridge. I could never have imagined, when drunkenly celebrating my 30th birthday almost a decade ago, what a tumultuous, painful, trying and joyful time my 30’s would be!

“Healing takes time, time heals all wounds so be patient and let time take it’s course”