Remembering my summer garden...
It's been five years, four miscarriages, two partners, and now a full year without a pregnancy since I began this pursuit of motherhood in earnest. It seems to me that the window for children to come into the world through my body is beginning to close. If it hasn't closed already.
Okay, I'll admit it. I've been crying my eyes out over this lately.
An old friend, younger than I, wrote to update me on her own infertility journey, which includes acupuncture, over a year of drugs, surgery (for endometriosis), IUIs (five of them), and now IVF. Not to mention the 3-hour commute to her RE's office.
I have nothing but respect and admiration and the highest hopes that her dedication will pay off.
But I ask myself: why am I not driven to follow a similar path?
This is not a new question. I revisit it all the time.
Is it because I am so easily overwhelmed by the medical world? Or is it because, in spite of my very sincere sadness, the desire to be a mother just isn't as strong in me as it is for some?
Though Number One on my wish list is an effortless pregnancy followed by a healthy child, Number Two is not a hard-won pregnancy, even if it came with a healthy-child guarantee.
No.
Next on my list is simply to let it go. Even if that means crying my eyes out on occasion.
Because when I'm not crying, there is time to make more art, read more good books, take more long walks, to take advantage of the time remaining in this very short life to love the people who are already around me.
Then again, I'm sure if I had that hard-won child, I would say every expense, every struggle was worth it. I'm sure the grass on that side of the fence would be very green.
I guess I'm gambling that if I keep watering the lawn of right here and now, I'll be okay with the grass under my feet.
