Hello, my name is Lilithea Marie-Kathrine(Kat-reen) Adasia. I am going on 35 and have the most wonderful partner in my life that has been at my side for 10+ years and counting. I have been in remission from cancer for a little over a year. I am educated. Have an alright family, I mean I can't lie. There are a few apples on this tree we have tried to nudge out of the orchard, but what family doesn't have at least one? Overall, it seems like a great life, but deep in the center is a huge dark void. A black hole, slowly sucking everything into it and I can't find anything to fill it, to plug it, to satisfy its voracious hunger of everything else in my life. I know what caused it, I know what is supposed to be there, but life, as fickle as it is, has chosen to leave my life void of what it needs.
I won't expect you to fully understand this story, not unless you have stood in my shoes. In that case, I am so very sorry and you are not alone, never alone. Which, as it would seem is a concept in itself to grasp because this is a story about a topic that lurks in the shadows. A topic that needs light shed upon it as the longer we remain silent, the less options there are.
My partner and I suffer from two forms of infertility. Both forms I carry upon my shoulders. Oh, wow that was a weight off my shoulders. I have for the longest time never said that aloud. I know it is hard to probably wrap your mind around two forms of infertility being on the shoulders of one person, but it is true. It started as a case of unexplained infertility with PCOS (Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome) and then a recently we added infertility due to cancer treatment. I had a rare form of Hodgkin's Lymphoma and the chemo treatment caused damage to my reproductive organs. However, before the diagnosis of either, we had been trying for six plus years. We also, sadly, shared in loses over the years as well. We spent our savings, handed over every extra penny and nickle to the specialists in attempt of making the dream come true of having just one child. Diets, positions, calendars, herbs, medications all failed us. In the few cases where they would succeed, my body would fail me. The joy of those faint pink lines would soon turn to tear lines down my cheeks and more guilt weighing down on my shattering heart.
For a little while we even looked into adoption and fostering. Those doors were also somewhat closed. Barely a crack for light to escape through. With a health history like mine they worry about giving a child to a family like ours. Too many variables and questions, questions that should really not matter. Yet, while they should not be mattering I can still see how they do. What will you do if she gets sick again, will you be able to handle a child at that time? How will you support a child if one of you stays home? What if you are both working, how will you handle childcare? If either of you passes, how will you maintain a balanced home? Questions, questions, questions. I get it, I do. Yet the void grows slightly.
I find myself, as much as I hate it, being jealous and sometimes feeling internal burning rage at times when everyone else is beaming with enthusiasm. Trying to find an exit every time someone's pregnancy or new baby dominates a conversation. When some news headline talks of a baby being abused, abandoned or neglected, I see red. So many unfit people able to do the most primal of things by accident. Something I have spent thousands of dollars, eight years and countless tears failing at. The way some throw away the most precious of gifts like they are trash or garbage. While others like me sit in the shadows and mourn, the void grows a bit more.
The void finally starts to suck in everything around it with the cherry on top, the looks, comments, well-meaning statements of encouragement and feeling of defeat. I know they mean well, I know they are not meaning to inflict pain and hurt feelings. Smiling on the outside and breaking on the inside. "When are you going to have a little one? What's wrong with you, why have you not had a kid yet? They must not like kids." All well-meaning, yet heartbreaking to a person who has been trying to be a mother for eight plus years. NO, correction. Heartbreaking to a mother, who has been trying for eight plus years. My partner and I have been trying for eight plus years and all of our children have crossed on to the other side. I would be the mother of nine children. My name is Lilithea Marie-Kathrine Adasia and I am coming out of the shadows. I am staying silent no longer. I am going to tell my story and look for my tribe. I am going to stand up and tell my story and so should you because we are not alone, and if you have a growing void that won't stop, maybe this will at least hope to slow it down.
Please, share this and share your own story as well and if this story touched you and you feel so inclined, please hit that tip button. All tips from this post and others like it will be donated to "Lilly's Family Circle" a cancer infertility charity. I will have a story up about that in the near future. May you be blessed, marry we meet and marry we part.