I have a gold dress in the back of my closet with the tag still on it. I bought it two years ago at Anthropologie because it was on a ridiculous sale and I love gold. I was shopping with my mother, I remember when I tried it on she made a face like “um I don’t think so” but then I stuck my stomach out and gestured to how wonderfully the pleats and chiffon would accommodate a baby bump and her eyes lit up “Of course you need that dress!” I walked out with my perfect little purchase and hung it right in the front of my closet, I could not wait to wear that dress and I was sure I would be wearing it proudly within a few short months.
But like I said… that dress is now in the back of my closet.
I have developed a love hate relationship with that dress, or more so with what that dress represents. Because two years ago I was 27, in love with my husband and the type of person who naively, but genuinely believed that because I wanted to be a mother, I would be a mother. I was optimistic and excited. I was a person who bought the gold dress, who argued over baby names with my husband in bed at night and who spent time researching baby strollers and monitors. I was not the type of person who considered things like hormones and IVF, but I’m a different person now.
Now, I’m a few weeks shy of my 29th birthday, I’m still in love with my husband, but I have very little else in common with the version of me who bought the gold dress. (If I’m being honest I do not think I really like ‘gold dress Meghan’). Over the past two years I have been forced to face more challenges than I ever expected. I have had to make decisions that have changed my life. I have had to learn to cope with the loss of dreams and expectations.
But here’s the thing about the gold dress… I refuse to throw it away.
I refuse to give up. I refuse to accept defeat on this path to motherhood. I am on a completely different road than I imagined I would be two years ago, but I’m slowly learning to embrace this new route I’m taking in life.
This journey is difficult, it’s heartbreaking, it’s overwhelming and it’s filled with highs and lows. My journey may be a lot like yours, it may be nothing like yours. But I hope somehow, while you read this you feel a little less alone, you feel a little more inspired and you feel, for even a moment, like you can survive this… because you can, I can…and we will.