The media story line during my lifetime and that of my parents has always been that of Fred Perry as the last man to win at Wimbledon.It was a story built on suspense as each Brit who entered the draw was scrutinized for their ability to pull it off. “Could this be the year?” was a constant question probed and analyzed by tennis elites commentators.
Today, Andy Murray pulled it off. He silenced the media and brought British tennis its long awaited cup of water.
As I watched the aftermath of Murray’s match, his moment as King of the Court, I took pause in an after match interview with ESPN as he expressed doubts he’d ever win it after his disappointing loss to Federer in last year’s Finals. He explained, “I had to face that I might never win it.”
After getting so close last year, Murray explained that he accepted that he had done his best and would continue to do his best, but he did so with the acceptance he might not win it, Wimbledon or for that matter a Grand Slam. He wasn’t giving up, but he was being realistic.
Andy Murray always dreamed of being a Wimbledon Champion, however, it was only as he got closer to the dream that he realized it may not happen. Reality kicked in.
Over the past year, I’ve followed a similar path. I’ve had to accept the reality of a childless future. As a woman of advanced maternal age, my chances of natural conception are under 5%, despite strong genes and normal tests. At my age, it takes a little luck and a lot of money to up those odds to just 30%. Forget that I haven’t had a boyfriend in years, that’s just a side note these days.
Like, Andy Murray, I’m faced with accepting my reality. I may never be a mother.
And while I appreciate the power of positive thinking, miracles and Godly interventions, I am also a realist. Medically, the odds of children with my own DNA may not happen.
Yes, there are still options for having children in my future, but at the moment, I’m not there, so please don’t patronize me with platitudes or stories of so many unwanted children in the world. I know this, but envisioning something different than what you dreamed of as a child is a process one must work through. Like Murray, I have to get comfortable with the idea, the idea that the dream, the natural rite of passage for women may elude me.
And while I do accept, I’m not out of the game, I am the fertility equivalent of Andre Agassi in his last few years on the tour. He stayed in the top 50 in the world and managed to grunt out wins in five setters, making it to quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals of Grand Slams despite a tight back and a body that was breaking down. And while he won his last Grand Slam at 33, at that time, ancient in the world of tennis, it was no where short of a miracle his body withstood the brutality of long rallies and short recovery times.
Here’s hoping for miracles, but working toward acceptance of reality.
Oh, and congratulations, Andy Murray!