When I was searching through my pictures for a photo of my grandmother yesterday I came across this newspaper clipping from April 18th, 1981. I was four. My mom entered me into a Easter bonnet contest and I won “Most Beautiful”. The prize was a chocolate bunny and this ribbon. My mom, very proudly, found several papers and clipped out the photo to save in my baby book. I have to admit, it makes me smile to look at it and to think of how proud my mom must have been when she wrote the details in my baby book.
My mom was thirty then, the same age I am now. It’s strange to think about it that way. It’s hard to imagine your own mother at your current age. She was in such a different place in her life at age 30 then I am now. She had already gone through her own infertility issues, adopted my older sister, and gave birth to me (after doctors told her she would never have kids); she had even been through a divorce. While I feel maybe even more seasoned in life lessons than she was at my age, I can not fathom being a mother of two. But I certainly wish I knew how it felt.
Josh and I have been struggling with infertility for three and a half years now. It makes me cry to even type those words. It’s painful and draining to even talk about. We have had 1 fresh and 2 frozen IVF (in-vitro fertilization) cycles, and done one round of artificial insemination, spending $25,000 along the way. We had one miscarriage from the frozen transfer, and one miscarriage from a natural pregnancy (a fluke possibly?). It is the most challenging thing I have been through. I really feel terribly for any woman who struggles with infertility. I am going to end this topic by saying – I hope with all my heart that Josh and I get to experience parenthood someday soon. We still are trying naturally (hoping the fluke could happen again), and may someday look to adopt… say a prayer for us, won’t you?
(I’m not sure how that happened – this started out as a nostalgic entry about my mom and Easter and my childhood, and somehow ended up about my infertility? I think I better stop here and write again tomorrow when I feel less hormonal.)
by Sadie Olive
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