Sharing a Song

This was my post for the Blog Cross Pollination. I wanted to repost it here as well because I've been wanting to share this song with everyone for a long time now. Ever since I wrote the post it's been replaying in my head.
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Being a mom is my dream job. I’m sure I’ve said it before. My goals have always involved having and raising children. If I end up without children, I know I’ll survive and have a good life, but it will be a life I never ever imagined. We all have our own version of the common infertility journey and even though I feel so strongly about it, I’ve found I’m unable to express how I feel properly in a blog post.

A few months ago I heard a song that completely expresses infertility, from my point of view, in a way I could never manage to do. The emotions and imagery in the song so closely represent how I feel.

I was working from home that day, listening to music, watching River asleep on the floor next to me. The playlist song switched and I unconsciously started listening ~Where do we go from here?~ to the words. Only a few lines in ~How do we carry on?~ I was pulled in by words I thought I heard ~…cuts me with every could-have-been~ and I started to listen more intently.

~Pain on pain on play, repeating~

Tears.

The words and my complicated feelings melded and she was suddenly singing my story, unasked.

It was a sad, lonely moment, lost in my infertility, but it was also not so lonely. Even if the song isn’t specifically about infertility, it is proof that others feel as I do. I thought of all the blogs I read of women going through this same hell and I wanted to share the song with everyone.

It expresses the uncertainty, the pain, the fact that there’s this unknown future without children waiting in the shadows (…backup makeshift life in waiting), the obnoxious “just relax” we’ve all been told (…time heals everything), the hopelessness and periods of giving up (…nothing to see here now), the sadness (…crumbled and puffy faced), even the millions of sterile, modesty-stealing procedures and appointments we’ve all endured (Around old magazines, fluorescent lighting sets the scene…).

My favorite verse is “All I want, only one street-level miracle. I’ll be an out-and-out born again from none more cynical.” It’s such a simple thing that I wish for – to get pregnant and raise a child. I no longer believe it will happen, but if it does, I will be so very grateful.

To listen for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNbTW0lhR1Y

Where do we go from here?
How do we carry on?
I can’t get beyond the questions.

Clambering for the scraps
in the shatter of us collapsed.
It cuts me with every could-have-been.

Pain on pain on play, repeating
With the backup makeshift life in waiting.

*Chorus*
Everybody says time heals everything.
But what of the wretched hollow?
The endless in-between?
Are we just going to wait it out?

There’s nothing to see here now,
turning the sign around;
We’re closed to the Earth ’til further notice.
A Stumbling cliched case,
crumbled and puffy faced.
Dead in the stare of a thousand miles.

All I want, only one street-level miracle.
I’ll be an out-and-out born again from none more cynical.

*Chorus*

And sit here cold?
We’ll be long gone by then.
And lackluster in dust we lay
Around old magazines.
Fluorescent lighting sets the scene
for all we could and should be being
in the one life that we’ve got.

In the one life that we’ve got.

*Chorus*

Are we just going to wait it out? Sit Here?
Just going to Wait it out? Sit here cold?
Just going to sweat it out?
Wait it out.