How did I get here?

How did I get here? Skulking around on SMC forums, reading IF blogs at midnight, posting anonymous comments with a shaking hand...peeking out at life while trying to stay hidden.

Just like my little friend here.

Where did this person come from? How did it come to this?

I'm not ashamed of the decisions I have made. I don't think I have failed in life because this is my current path. I don't feel embarrassed to walk into the fertility clinic.

But I don't exactly walk in with head held high either. I can admit to even moving a ring to the 'proper' finger on occasion, so as strangers may think though I am alone, I'm not doing this by myself.

Trying to hide in plain site.

Now THAT, I have always done well. I'm a pretty private person. Really private. Ok, Fort Knox is more accessible than I am. I have friends, and I share in their lives, but the details of my own...those are under lock and key. So not surprising that when I decided to investigate becoming a single parent, I told no one. Four years of sneaking around. Because it took FOUR YEARS to decide to do this. Telling friends I had 'very early morning meetings' on scan days. Planning exams and procedures around work breaks and holidays. Plainly busy, but hiding with what.

I, rather incredibly, thought the deciding would be the hardest part. After that it was really just a matter of a vial of swimmers, a few minutes of discomfort, a little luck with timing, and voila! Done deal.

Yeah. I really was that woman.

The voila! happened on my fourth IUI. Heaven! I kept my quiet secret, determined to last 12 weeks because if I spoke it out loud...well, I am sure you are familiar with the theory. Warding off evil and such. Keep IT away, at all costs.

But sometimes, IT finds you. IT sneaks in at 11 weeks, and you find yourself staring into space while an U/S tech tries to gently tell you she is 100% positive the heartbeat you have watched in wonder on four different dates, is gone.

That is when this started. This peeking and seeking. This sudden need to feel...less alone. To connect and share. To tell SOMEONE about my broken heart and aching soul. As my miscarriage dragged on, through dose after dose after dose of misoprostol and finally surgery 10 weeks later, that need grew.

It got so bad I actually told a few friends. And they have tried. God knows they have tried. And I love them for it. But they just don't get it. They don't say the things you woman say to each other in this blogosphere. They see the hurt, but they don't understand it (God willing they never do). They listen to the story, but they haven't lived it (again, can I get an Amen?).

And then I found you. All of you wonderful, strong, fighting women, who are stalking this path (we are no longer strolling are we?? We are stalking and stomping and marching with all we have) ahead, beside, and behind me.

I'm tired of keeping my hood up and ear phones in, eyes facing front while I walk among you, yet separate from you.

I need to count. I need to be heard.

It may not be where I want to be.

But dammit. I'm here.