When I was 2 or 3, I discovered something that would affect my life forever:
Not only do kittens grow up to be cats and puppies grow up to be dogs.. but....
Little girls grow up to be mommies!
I was promised at 17 in my patriarchal blessing that I would have that opportunity.
Then at 18, I was informed that fertility wasn't a "talent" with which Father had blessed me.
I was perfectly barren. Infertile.
At 24, I married a man I thought would be a wonderful father to adopted children. I guess I was putting the cart before the horse a little- financial stability is one of those unspoken prerequisites for adoption, and financial acumen wasn't one of his talents.
And I remained childless.
I was single again at 34, after 10 years of marriage.
And I was still childless.
I looked for 3 years and found what I felt like was good-enough. We're nowhere near financially secure- more like a financial precipice.
And I'm still childless.
I've seen others' solutions, coping methods...
Many years ago, I came across a childless couple that was collecting donations for their adoption fund. That bothered me. I didn't understand why they thought they should be able to get help. Can't they do it on their own? I thought about setting up an account like that, but it felt wrong to ask others to pay for me to have a baby.
A few months ago, I found another friend was asking for financial help to be able to afford adoption. What's wrong with doing it with their own money? What makes them think it's ok to ask for help? It still felt wrong to ask others to pay for me to become a mother.
Recently, a writer friend posted a blog about miscarriage, and the hurt that entails. No disrespect for his grief, but it upset me. I don't entirely understand why. I'm still working on that. But nobody talks about my ongoing hearthache. Should I talk about my heartache more? Should I bring it up and shame them to silence?
Other friends have gone through infertility, difficult pregnancies, miscarriages, difficult deliveries, almost died/almost lost the baby, premature babies who sometimes die and sometimes survive, challenges with difficult or wayward children. Some have the perfect easy conception, pregnancy, labor/delivery and have beautiful, smart, easy children.
|Surrounded by green.. but barren.|
Not me, I'm infertile.
No, don't tell me what your cousin's sister-in-law's dog groomer's neighbor did to open her womb. Pills, potions, and positions aren't gonna help, I can guarantee. Don't tell me to "just have faith." You weren't in the doctor's office when she told me what was wrong.
My babies will only come at the grace, good will, and generosity of another woman.
Maybe I'm a little bit jealous. Maybe I'm just bitter. I know my heartache isn't the same as what is felt after a miscarriage, or losing a baby, or watching a wayward child become more.. uh, wayward. But it's still there.
I'm still childless.
But is there a word to describe the dull ache that is never-will? Is there a way to describe to a mother the empty cavern in the heart of the barren woman?
I like having words for things, but better- I like having solutions.
But there are none. At least none that I see. So I just keep walking, praying for wisdom, peace.. something.