Thanks to MaryP @ It’s Not All Mary Poppins and her guest author Amy for this reminder that what many of us take for granted, being able to have children, others are suffering from an inability to conceive and that it’s a very lonely road to walk.
Amy writes:
“As it became apparent with each passing year that we wouldn’t get to spend our holidays with our own kids or travel with them, we began to find ways of coping. We joined RESOLVE, an infertility support group, and we tried surrounding ourselves with friends and family who would encourage us, spend time with us, and occasionally lend us their kids. Still, there are times when nothing really helps stem the tide of hurt that comes from being infertile.”
I could not imagine her pain. I couldn’t because I had my first child at 16. I became pregnant before I was old enough to drive a car. I was a parent for a full two years before I could even vote.
For twenty years I have been taking my fertility for granted. Complaining even, that I’m still “suffering” from the effects of being able to have as many children as I want (tubaligation notwithstanding).
All I really know is Motherhood and imagining my life without it is beyond my scope. Sometimes this road has been difficult and lonely…but when it was, I had my children to remind me that the greatest gift I have gotten in my life is them.
No, I could not imagine her pain but before today, to be honest, I never tried. I never gave more than a passing thought to infertile couples other than to callously remark, “They should just adopt” which I now deeply regret.
I had children before I was old enough and let’s be real here, mature enough to even really know whether or not I wanted to be a mother. For the record, I’m a great mother and have done very well for my children despite the rough beginnings.
But after reading Amy’s article I wondered, what would it be like if I had been old enough, mature enough, stable enough (both emotionally and financially), wanted a child more than anything in the world and couldn’t have one?
What would that feel like? What would I be willing to try? What options would I consider? What options wouldn’t I consider? Would I try adopting? Would I worry that it wouldn’t feel the same and that the emptiness might remain? Would I want to be around children and families? Would I want to avoid them? Would I question my self-worth, my faith and my purpose?
It might not be the same to imagine waking up one day and finding myself childless after 20 years of being a parent, but it’s probably the closest I’ll get to relating.
Life without rocking and singing lullabyes, life without kissing boo boos and bedtime stories. Life without first teeth, first haircuts, first steps and first words. Life without birthday parties, Easter egg hunts and Christmas mornings. Life without a box full of drawings and crafts that profess unconditional love.
My heart goes out to you Amy, your husband and all infertile couples trying to have a baby. For the first time I realize how unfair it must feel to live in a world where stupid kids (I refer to myself here) can get pregnant before they are in any position to care for their child while perfectly able adults who really want one, can’t.
I hope that this post helps spread the word about your pain and suffering and if nothing else, helps people appreciate parenthood and the gift that is their child(ren) a little more.
And now I’m going to go kiss Daughter and call Son.
Mary sent me the link to your post. Thank you for posting this. It really means more than you know.
Amy – I was glad to do it. The least I can do is try to imagine what it is like and offer, albeit virtual, support.
All the best to you.
Hi Zanya, I left a comment after reading Amy’s post yesterday and returned to check in today and found the link to your post here. I am in tears after reading it – and in a good way. Thanks so much for your ability to empathize with our situation. Sometimes, as an infertile woman, it feels as though there is so much lack of understanding and even animosity between us and those fortunate enough to be Mother’s. I am so grateful to find people willing to try and bridge the gulf.
cat – As I replied to Amy, I was glad to do it. I couldn’t imagine my life without my kids and it broke my heart to really understand and know that there are people out there who want a child more than anything and can’t.
Stumbled onto your post through some random Googling. Thank you so much for considering things from our perspective. The thoughtlessness of others adds so much pain to an already painful situation. I wish there were more people like you out there!
loribeth – Thank you for your kind words. I really don’t think I did that much except to take the time to consider what it must be like for you.
I didn’t realize that this post would have such an effect. Of course I’m glad that it does.
It amazes me how we can be so oblivious to how much indifference can hurt. And until I wrote this post and recieved these comments, I really had no idea.
And the truth, if it wasn’t for Amy willing to share her experience and pain so openly, I might not have been moved to write this post.
But then I suppose that is what Awareness Weeks are all about eh?