You know you’re inarticulate when you have to go back and clarify posts…
But, in regards to my last post, I just wanted to put it out there that, while I am sympathetic to the plight of the infertile/sub-fertile woman trying to conceive and those that joke about fertility inappropriately, I can not pretend like those feelings affect me at the same level personally now as they did before, hearing about pregnancy announcements, that type of thing, etc.
Its just, I was staunch about not using the word “infertile” for myself before, but now that I have a living breathing child that I can look in the eyes, I feel even more committed to it.
(For the record, in my head the idea was I would not call myself infertile until I had given up treatments…I was not living in fantasy land that my body could have children if I just think about the right word, I was just being realistic that for as long as I was willing to try supplements to make it conceive, then I should admit that there’s a chance. Otherwise, what’s the point of the treatments? I do believe at some point you have to come to terms for sanity sake. I guess it just seems that 1 year of not conceiving is a bit quick to conclude its not possible at all.)
Who knows if I will be able to have more children. At this point, that is irrelevant. It took (2) years to conceive this guy, mere months after surgery, I know it may take years to conceive any more, if at all. But he is my proof of the fruit my body can produce. Not in a “if I did it once I can do it again!” way but in a, “It did it once and that is infinitely more than not at all”, way.
I feel to say that I am infertile now would be an obvious lie. I can conceive, maybe not on my timeline and not on the timeline that anyone our generation would find appropriate or desirable, but that word is forever removed as a word to describe myself. I know others may feel differently, but to describe myself that way seems to do an injustice to those who are actually infertile.
My heart will forever identify with the difficulty and the pain that so little people understand. Some of my best friends and the most compassionate people I know are still in the midst of trying to sort out their body’s brokeness and find a path that their marriage can bear tangible fruit. I’m pretty sure I will forever cry at certain things and I will want to give a voice to those hurting, I cannot erase that, but that doesn’t mean that I am by any means not content with the blessing I have. I would love to have more children and I’m sure as time goes on that ache will get stronger.
Years from now I may eat these words and my feelings may have totally changed as I mourn the siblings I could never give Sam, but I truly believe that God has healed this part of my life. My eyes and heart have been opened with this literal healing of my body that brought us Samuel. My feelings on adoption and fostercare have been completely transformed with the birth of our son, and though I wish it could have been accomplished beforehand, I needed healing to take place that has. I know I have scars that may ache, but infertility is no longer an open wound for me.
I pray that this is not a temporary feeling, and that I always remember that this peace that God placed on my heart and contentment with my beautiful, wonderful son is not by accident.