Seeking God Knows What

One of my nemeses, infertility grief, has reared its head lately.

And it isn’t all to do with adoption-related things: like having to spend lots of money (although it is much less than many people spend) or waiting for someone to decide to place their baby with us.

I noticed it a couple weeks ago, when I read the blog of one of T’s former co-workers, but also our friend, who is a natural childbirth advocate, a doula and an aspiring midwife.  Granted, I don’t read her blog very often for that very reason but every now and then, I’ll click on it to see what she is up to, since they moved away.  She writes about the experiences of pregnancy for herself, for others (with their permission), making choices and the intimacy of childbirth.  I thought about how much I long to experience the intimacy of birth, sharing in those moments with T.  Even if we were to be in the room when one of our children is born, at that moment, it won’t be OUR child until paperwork is signed.

Then I noticed the feeling again, when I saw, on facebook, PH tagged in a photo of someone who had just had a baby.  I thought he’s my doctor, I know this is his FAVORITE thing about being a doctor, and yet, it is an experience I won’t have with him. 

Yes, I can have the experience of motherhood, of mothering a child from hours old to adulthood.  I can have the experience of loving a child so much I can’t even imagine how I could possibly love her any more, and then, I do.

Yes, I have had other different experiences with my doctor.

And yes, I have much to be thankful for in terms of my health, my life, my family, my faith.

But I’m realizing that while I can resolve most of my feelings about infertility, I can’t make it disappear forever.  Every now and then, it is going to rear its ugly head and I just have to manage the best that I can.