Saturday, July 17, 2021



Getting back to work after not working for almost a year wasn't easy. But it is lovely to be back in busy life (and it is great to receive full pay again :)

I have been doing well lately. The little time that is left available I use for gardening (in my veggie garden), swimming and cycling. 

But there is always something that reminds me that I am different. 

I was invited to co-worker's party - she recently moved to a new home and at the same time they got a second child. So there we were: picture perfect family with two toddlers and 8 of the coworkers. I didn't really want to go, but I didn't want to be rude to decline the invitation, so I went. Chatting with children and their mother was the easy part. 

But then another coworker (a man in his late 30s) started a speech. It was a kind of poem / a toast to the hardest role of all: a working mother. Since she is not only a mother, she is also a wife and besides all those roles she also has to be an efficient business woman.  

When listening to this silly speech (all others thought it was wonderful) a known pain overwhelmed me. 

If they only knew, how hard it is to be an infertile woman in the fertile world. How hard it was to be a loving wife when my soul had been broken into million pieces. How hard it was to go to office every day and work when I was so sad that I couldn't see any purpose in my childless life any more. 

It breaks my heart when I look back to the darkest days of my infertility - when I started to realize that the dream of motherhood would never happen, no matter how many IVFs we take.  The sadness was so deep that it is difficult to find the words to describe it.

Looking back, I see what a long path I have walked. How much strength I needed to rebuild my life and find my own version of happiness. 

Yes, I will always be different. But how boring the world would be if we all were the same :)

PS:  photo was taken today, on my vegetable garden. I love having flowers among vegetables. This is the very first sunflower this year.


  1. You are so right. There are no words when the sadness is so deep. It is a long, long journey out of that place. But it is possible to find our own versions of happiness.

  2. I absolutely loved this: "Looking back, I see what a long path I have walked. How much strength I needed to rebuild my life and find my own version of happiness." So, so true. And it would be lovely if all the kinds of hard were honored in the same way working parents are honored. It is insanely hard to try to be "normal" when inside there is just so much pain. To survive that is an amazing accomplishment.

    And I LOOOOOVE your sunflowers with vegetables! I am barely hanging on with the flowers thanks to the many cute and destructive critters, to try to vegetable garden would just be feeding the wildlife, but I admire it so in others!

  3. Dear Klara, I can understand you very well. By myself I have similar situations. Unfortunatly the pain and sadness will be a part of our lives, if you are childless not by choice.
    I will try to write you an Email, I was so stressed and sad the last days.

    Have a nice summer time with or in your garden.
    With many greetings from south Germany!

  4. How boring the world would be if we were all the same. You are exactly right! Sending hugs.

    I'm sorry you had to listen to that speech. In lauding one way of life (even when acknowledging it is hard), he was making others feel isolated. Sigh. I'm so glad though that you were able to come here, write, and although you remembered how hard and painful it was (and still is, at times), you also realised how proud you should be of yourself. How strong you were and are. How far you have come. How proud I am of you!

    Aaah, sunflowers. Such a long way from NZ right now!

  5. What a beautiful photo, Klara!
    Yes, you have come a long way and you can be proud of yourself ♡.