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Heart Attack.


Heart Attack

Last night I took off my smile, laid it on the nightstand and wept.

It wasn’t one of those heaving chest numbers, or the famed “ugly cry”, but rather a long, hot, steam-filled weep, where my eyes literally overflowed, and my nose erupted, and my heart jumped a little harder in my chest.

I wept for Endiah Martin.
I wept for Lenore Draper.
I wept for my city.
I wept for my family.
I wept for my dreams.
I wept because I can’t fathom a life for my children in this place where life is so undervalued presently.
I wept for how much these youth have to endure just to get through life right now.
I wept for all the children who will be overcomers of their childhoods and not beneficiaries of it.
I wept for all the parent-minded people, who may never be parents.
I wept for the idea that time is beating me over the head.
I wept for the idea of money being a barrier to my life goals.
I wept for peace of mind that I long for.
I wept for clarity of spirit.
I wept for courage that I feel distant from.
I wept from exhaustion.

Most of all, I wept because I had no idea what else to do.

I often tell people that infertility is bigger than babies.
I wish they would believe me.

Infertility affects who you believe yourself to be.  It chips away at confidence, and perseverance, and fight.  It is an emotional autoimmunity, forcing one to battle with their own very being.  It amplifies every hurdle, and every pain, and every sweetness, and in its wake, you have to force yourself to continue to be YOU, when it has altered everything you thought YOU were.  Everything that I believed about myself has been called into question as I walk through this.

But I’ve said all this before.  So why am I sharing it right now?
Quite simply, because someone needs to hear it.

Someone needs to know that crying themselves to sleep last night wasn’t weakness, or immaturity, but a release.  That these irrational feelings that come at us so quickly and desperately, are not for us to shove way down into ourselves, but to allow.

You have the RIGHT, to be heartbroken.  You have the RIGHT, to be afraid.  You have the RIGHT, to question everything and accept nothing about this.  You have the right to feel.

So many times we attempt to push down the fact that we are overwhelmed and distraught, as though ignoring it means that it isn’t happening.  This is damaging.  You can ignore your brakes screeching for so long, but eventually they will go out.  You have to take care of yourself.

You matter, and your heartbreak is not in vain.  When you add infertility on top of every other thing that is going on around us, it is a lot to digest.  You owe it to yourself to be honest about where you are, and take the time to address it.

I wish you all the support and love in the world, and then some.


Featured image courtesy of Master isolated images/


Regina Townsend is the primary author and founder of TheBrokenBrownEgg. A librarian and writer, Regina’s mission is to make people aware and active about the unique concerns of reproductive health in the minority community.

1 Comment

  1. Elle

    Thank you.

    22 . Sep . 2014

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