What a perfect analogy.
Infertility is an island. A desert island. A beautiful tropical island with unpredictable storms and hurricanes. Some stay for a while, some stay for a few years. And I’m the permanent resident. I’m the bartender.
Amy is someone who was on the island for many years. I’ve read her blog sporadically since just after she arrived. Watching her come to grips with infertility and learn to give it all to God has been a great comfort to me. Amy’s blog has been a place where I could find someone walking the path with me.
She was here for so long on the island. I never expected her to stay forever, but as time went on, I think I forgot that leaving was even a possibility. I’m happy she has been rescued. It is indeed bittersweet.
I’ve been here a while now. Almost a native. I’ve learned to expect the storms. I pour the drinks and listen to people talk about their troubles. They talk about hope, about waiting to be rescued, and wonder when their ship will come. I’m the safe place; I’ll always be here. This is my home.
Here on the island, occasionally ships come and rescue us one at a time. Never a boat for me, but that’s ok. One of the most beautiful things about being the bartender is meeting all the wonderful, beautiful, hurting, victorious souls who come and go.