Everything I’ve read says I’m supposed to chronicle my infertility experience. It’s supposed to be therapeutic and provide a beautiful, heartfelt struggle to share with the children that may or may not exist one day. Blogging seemed like the obvious choice, considering I have an established presence in the blogsphere, as The Belle of the Library, where I’ve been sharing my misadventures since my 25th birthday. Belleofthelibrary.com has been a chronicle of a divorcee, a graduate student, an inexperienced dater, a reluctant wedding planner, a newlywed, a librarian… but I just couldn’t do it y’all. I couldn’t turn my pride and joy, my seven years old blog with nearly 2,000 followers, into an infertility blog.
Infertility is big, folks. I haven’t had a social networking presence since 2017 and I still remember the PSA’s dedicated to crushing the stigma, the photos of women crying as they gave themselves shots, the artsy portrait of the pristine bathroom floor taken by a would-be-mom after being sick from her medication. I could get so many followers on my home blog, were I willing to become another spokesperson for the cause, the cheerleader for other unwillingly childless women… but I prefer to keep my pain private, even from my mostly anonymous blog full of pseudonyms. Perhaps I’ll connect my stories in time, maybe when I can guarantee an HEA. In the meantime, I start fresh… as the Belle of Infertility. It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.