I’m not one of those 5-year plan kind of people. When I get asked that question in an interview – I generally just show myself the door.
I’ve never had a plan for my life. I decided at the last minute (well, around October) of matric that I’d go to university the following year. I decided on the day of registration at university (hangover included) that I would study a BComm (instead of Engineering. Life choices, huh?). And I never, ever, intended on marrying the guy I hooked up with one night at Springbuck at the start of second year university.
But I did. We dated for 8 years, we were engaged for a year and a half. And we’ve been married for six. We’ve lived abroad, and we’ve lived in Cape Town. We’ve travelled to 21 countries together.
We (together I mean) also never had a 5 year plan. Or even a two year plan (I’m not really a planned out person. Except when I travel. But not including that one backpacking trip I did where there was no plan. Well, there was a vague plan, but it was a flexible plan). We do what feels right, when it feels right. We move, live, travel… as and when the timing is “right”. It always works out for the best.
4 and a half years ago, as I at last settled in to a career I felt proud of, and just before i turned 30. We thought the time was (give or take) right to have a baby. The colossal eff up, the unexpected spanner in this story (my story that was never planned, but in it’s unplanned-ness was probably planned) is the case of unexplained infertility.
As time goes on, I realise that my life isn’t just about infertility, although it often feels like it. And that infertility can’t (contrary to popular belief) just be solved with ‘IVF’.
Unexpected, and with grief of an unexplainably vast range of emotions, I attempt to live, this unplanned life, with a feeling of loss so great I don’t know if its worth it sometimes. Some days are easy. Some days aren’t. But this is what I’m now about I guess.
I’m still Becoming Mrs H. It’s just turning out a little differently to what I expected.