I’m having a very hard time. For a project, I’ve spent most of Wednesday reading infertility, IVF, adoption and other blogs written by would-be parents who are unable to conceive. This 25-year old photo is of two boys, my sons, conceived in no time. Granted there was a miscarriage in between that hit us very hard, but the blessing of these two little boys came rapidly and without incident.
I’m familiar with this issue – I have so many friends with adopted kids — but the articulateness of these women and the agony of repeated technical failures they describe, is unthinkable. It’s so ironic – years spent in your twenties worrying that you ARE pregnant, then this.
I can’t imagine many experiences more painful — though they existed even in biblical times (remember the pain of Sarah, Hannah and Rachel?) and they’re for a lifetime. "Do you have kids?" is the classic ice-breaker. It just reminds me one more time of the blessings in my life. It’s not that I don’t appreciate my kids every day; as my sons will tell you I’m a bit over the top where they are concerned. And I’m tiresome on that fact that they’re a blessing and a joy.
What I don’t often consider is the fact that we had them so easily – that they are, quite literally, a gift. My heart breaks for my sisters not blessed with this privilege – and I won’t soon forget their pain.