(by Brenda Horrocks)
I've decided to write a little bit about my emotional journey through infertility and motherhood and the defining moments that brought me to where I am right now. I apologize for the selfishness (and length) of this post, or of any offenses that may be taken from it. I intend no ill feelings, simply a small amount of insight from someone who has been on both sides of the fence.
As I've traveled further along this road of infertility and adoption I have discovered that there seems to be (generally speaking) a serious division between those who are fertile, and those who are not. Each feeling as though they are greatly misunderstood and their experiences undervalued by the "other side", if you will. There are some who quietly take everything with a grain of salt, not wishing to feel offended by an insensitive comment, and then there are some who seem to look for any offense that may be squeezed out of the simplest of remarks. My observation of this division and the fact that I have experienced both fertility and infertility has led me to ponder what my own feelings are and whether or not I personally take a side, as I've been taught throughout my life that you cannot ride two horses with one bum.
Side 1 - Fertile Myrtle...
What an incredible gift the Lord has entrusted to women. We, alone, know the gravity of the deepest love and connection, that between mother and child. A gravity, often believed, to exist solely by blood relation and the experience of carrying a child in the womb. The immense toll pregnancy, labor, and delivery take on our bodies alone is enough to deserve eternal merit.
Some of us have endured unfathomable struggles to bring our children into the world, and perhaps, even traveled the road of infertility for a while before being blessed with a child of our own. While others have had the fortune of blinking and getting pregnant, expanding their families easily, their struggles taking other forms in their own lives.
Yet we are perceived by some as having it easy, not knowing trial or heartache because we were able to conceive and carry a child. Our struggles as mothers are often viewed as less significant because we were blessed, and we should never complain about our lives or trials and tread lightly around those whose lives were directed in another path.
The love forged between a mother and her biological child is so strong it can actually be physically measured. As a mother, I feel that pull every day. I would do anything for the safety and well-being of my child. Having experienced this phenomenon, perhaps makes me ill-qualified to be writing on behalf of those who are infertile...
Side 2 - The Empty Womb...
As women, our role, persay, is laid out for us. There are things that are inheritantly ours. We are blessed with diverse talents and destinies, but the one thing that we grow up "knowing" is that we are mothers. So, when our knowledge fails us and we discover that we cannot carry a child we can feel as though we have been robbed of a divine calling. We have to suddenly adapt our lives to fit a course that we, to our earthly knowledge thus far, have not chosen.
At first, we try everything in our power to change our circumstances. Doctors, procedures, surgeries, and medications to "fix" the problem. Miracles happen, throwing us into the rhealm that Fertile Myrtle treads, but more often than not we are carried along one of the longest, most emotional roller coasters this life has to offer.
Every month we set expectations, do everything we can to align the stars, hope with all that we have, and then plummet to the depths of despair when our dreams are dashed. And just when we start to recover we start the process again the next month. For some this process goes on for years, and for some, the roller coaster is too much. They simply throw their hands in the air, put on a strong facade, and focus their time and energy into something else worthwhile, trying not to be bitter or look back, but always feeling as though they've missed out on something that should have been theirs.
In many cases, these women turn to adoption and fostering programs, becoming great advocates for other women and their own struggles. I have met many of these great women, and though I have not completed the adoption process yet myself, their testimonies of adoption and the love between their children and themselves has inspired me beyond measure, bolstering my belief that love has no blood boundary and that gravitational pull between mother and child originates in the Spirit, not in the blood.
My Story...
I started motherhood treading the path of Fertile Myrtle. Life was just as I had expected. Things were not perfect and motherhood itself presented challenges I could never have imagined. There were, and are still times when I feel like a big, fat failure when it comes to raising my child, but motherhood is a another puzzle in and of itself, better left for another post someday.
Three years ago my roller coaster hit the track when my husband and I started trying to expand our family. When we didn't conceive right away we didn't think anything of it, things were just taking time. A few months and a miscarriage later, I started having severe abdominal pain which took me to the doctor. We discovered a couple of cysts on my ovaries, nothing alarming or unusual, but decided to take a closer look just in case. Everything looked fine. MRIs, ultrasounds, tests, and multiple examinations all suggested the same conclusion: I was fine. More than fine. I was healthy and so was my husband. We should have no trouble conceiving.
And yet, three years later, here we are. We cannot conceive a child and we have no explanation for our failure. That, I feel, makes my situation even harder for me - I like answers, even if they're not the ones I want. But "just because" doesn't bode well with me.
That monthly emotional roller coaster began it's destruction on my faith and my understanding of my divine purpose here on earth. My expectations shaken, I tried everything I could think of to bargain with the Lord, hoping that he would grant my wishes to mother another child. This went on for about a year, despair leading to doubt, doubt leading to helplessness, until one day I found myself literally wailing on my bed, having started another period. I had hit rock bottom, declaring to the my Heavenly Father that I couldn't do it anymore. I was done.
I was exhausted, watching my friends and family members have children all around me and feeling terrible that they had to walk on eggshells around me. That wasn't fair to them...it wasn't their fault. What was worse was the feeling that I had spent so much time worrying about having a child that I had in many ways neglected the one I had right in front of me. I was consumed with this need to win. To prove that I was normal. That this was not happening and we just hadn't found the right "trick" yet.
I needed to heal, whatever the outcome. I didn't have any more time to waste and I had a child who needed a sane mother, one who was focused on him, right here and now. It was at that moment that I decided to stop actively "trying" to conceive and focus my energy on something else completely, in hopes of allowing my mind and emotions a real break. My husband and I started the Body-for-Life challenge and I put everything I had into it, refusing to do anything fertility related.
It was a welcome reprieve. Even though in the back of mind I had thoughts of the weight loss challenge creating better circumstances for conception, I fought to chase them away, focusing on completing the challenge for me and for my mind. The challenge ended in April of 2009, but it was enough to clear my mind and create a chance for the Lord to enlighten me. He blessed me with very personal insight into my divine destiny, choices I'd made in the pre-existence, and the nature of this particular trial. As these revelations are sacred to me I don't feel compelled to go into detail here, but it was at this point that my husband and I went to the Bishop to talk about adoption.
Honestly? In this first meeting I was skeptical about whether or not this was the right thing for us. I felt like I was just giving up and adoption was the last thing on our list of options. Wasn't that what good LDS people were supposed to do when they couldn't have children?
I decided to look into it and take things one little step at a time, digging deep into what I really felt about it and not allowing social expectations to dictate our decision. The further I walked along the adoptive path, however, the greater my conviction that the Lord had guided us to this point. Yes, there was nothing wrong with us and our ability to have a child, but had infertility not been a part of our lives, we'd have missed stumbling upon a very important branch of our family tree; a branch we have yet to meet, but feel solidly is there. I still have moments of doubt, that perhaps we were intended all along to be a family of three. I'm okay either way.
We started the application process in April 2009 and just last month (January 2010) we were approved to be adoptive parents. It was a long, drawn out road just to be accepted and I am weary that our wait for a child may be even longer...or non-existent. I have faith that we are doing the right thing, but I've learned not to determine my own outcome. The Lord knows what will be and what will best prepare me for whatever may present itself in the future. Perhaps I am simply to go through this process for knowledge and experience, or perhaps, there is a precious child predestined to be a part of our family, but chosen to be a part of someone else's life first. My eyes are but mortal, and so I must have faith in my Father in Heaven to see the eternal picture and guide us in our placement of the puzzle pieces.
Where I Stand...
I am one of the lucky and one of the unfortunate. I am neither here nor there. I can sympathize with both sides, and still not fully understand either. I am a misfit, completely unqualified to speak on behalf of anyone but myself.
Fertility and infertility each have their own refining qualities, unique to the individual who experiences them. However, though very different the experience and the emotions involved, I believe the lessons are very similar. Each circumstance, in it's own way, teaches us patience, compassion, reliance on the Lord, humility, divine predestination, agency, and love; love for a child, love for ourselves, love for our spouses, and love for the Lord. Both roads are extremely difficult in their own right. Be compassionate towards both, as well as those who may never have the chance to discover the trials and joys of motherhood in either respect. Do not underestimate the power of the lessons learned on the road you may travel. We are women. We are divine. We are unique. We are strong.
And so I walk the fence. I ride two horses with one bum, far from expertly, but I'm holding on believing with a sincere conviction that the Lord loves me. He knows my heart. He has a plan and if I am willing, He will lead me to do His work and bless others as He has blessed me.
I've decided to write a little bit about my emotional journey through infertility and motherhood and the defining moments that brought me to where I am right now. I apologize for the selfishness (and length) of this post, or of any offenses that may be taken from it. I intend no ill feelings, simply a small amount of insight from someone who has been on both sides of the fence.
As I've traveled further along this road of infertility and adoption I have discovered that there seems to be (generally speaking) a serious division between those who are fertile, and those who are not. Each feeling as though they are greatly misunderstood and their experiences undervalued by the "other side", if you will. There are some who quietly take everything with a grain of salt, not wishing to feel offended by an insensitive comment, and then there are some who seem to look for any offense that may be squeezed out of the simplest of remarks. My observation of this division and the fact that I have experienced both fertility and infertility has led me to ponder what my own feelings are and whether or not I personally take a side, as I've been taught throughout my life that you cannot ride two horses with one bum.
Side 1 - Fertile Myrtle...
What an incredible gift the Lord has entrusted to women. We, alone, know the gravity of the deepest love and connection, that between mother and child. A gravity, often believed, to exist solely by blood relation and the experience of carrying a child in the womb. The immense toll pregnancy, labor, and delivery take on our bodies alone is enough to deserve eternal merit.
Some of us have endured unfathomable struggles to bring our children into the world, and perhaps, even traveled the road of infertility for a while before being blessed with a child of our own. While others have had the fortune of blinking and getting pregnant, expanding their families easily, their struggles taking other forms in their own lives.
Yet we are perceived by some as having it easy, not knowing trial or heartache because we were able to conceive and carry a child. Our struggles as mothers are often viewed as less significant because we were blessed, and we should never complain about our lives or trials and tread lightly around those whose lives were directed in another path.
The love forged between a mother and her biological child is so strong it can actually be physically measured. As a mother, I feel that pull every day. I would do anything for the safety and well-being of my child. Having experienced this phenomenon, perhaps makes me ill-qualified to be writing on behalf of those who are infertile...
Side 2 - The Empty Womb...
As women, our role, persay, is laid out for us. There are things that are inheritantly ours. We are blessed with diverse talents and destinies, but the one thing that we grow up "knowing" is that we are mothers. So, when our knowledge fails us and we discover that we cannot carry a child we can feel as though we have been robbed of a divine calling. We have to suddenly adapt our lives to fit a course that we, to our earthly knowledge thus far, have not chosen.
At first, we try everything in our power to change our circumstances. Doctors, procedures, surgeries, and medications to "fix" the problem. Miracles happen, throwing us into the rhealm that Fertile Myrtle treads, but more often than not we are carried along one of the longest, most emotional roller coasters this life has to offer.
Every month we set expectations, do everything we can to align the stars, hope with all that we have, and then plummet to the depths of despair when our dreams are dashed. And just when we start to recover we start the process again the next month. For some this process goes on for years, and for some, the roller coaster is too much. They simply throw their hands in the air, put on a strong facade, and focus their time and energy into something else worthwhile, trying not to be bitter or look back, but always feeling as though they've missed out on something that should have been theirs.
In many cases, these women turn to adoption and fostering programs, becoming great advocates for other women and their own struggles. I have met many of these great women, and though I have not completed the adoption process yet myself, their testimonies of adoption and the love between their children and themselves has inspired me beyond measure, bolstering my belief that love has no blood boundary and that gravitational pull between mother and child originates in the Spirit, not in the blood.
My Story...
I started motherhood treading the path of Fertile Myrtle. Life was just as I had expected. Things were not perfect and motherhood itself presented challenges I could never have imagined. There were, and are still times when I feel like a big, fat failure when it comes to raising my child, but motherhood is a another puzzle in and of itself, better left for another post someday.
Three years ago my roller coaster hit the track when my husband and I started trying to expand our family. When we didn't conceive right away we didn't think anything of it, things were just taking time. A few months and a miscarriage later, I started having severe abdominal pain which took me to the doctor. We discovered a couple of cysts on my ovaries, nothing alarming or unusual, but decided to take a closer look just in case. Everything looked fine. MRIs, ultrasounds, tests, and multiple examinations all suggested the same conclusion: I was fine. More than fine. I was healthy and so was my husband. We should have no trouble conceiving.
And yet, three years later, here we are. We cannot conceive a child and we have no explanation for our failure. That, I feel, makes my situation even harder for me - I like answers, even if they're not the ones I want. But "just because" doesn't bode well with me.
That monthly emotional roller coaster began it's destruction on my faith and my understanding of my divine purpose here on earth. My expectations shaken, I tried everything I could think of to bargain with the Lord, hoping that he would grant my wishes to mother another child. This went on for about a year, despair leading to doubt, doubt leading to helplessness, until one day I found myself literally wailing on my bed, having started another period. I had hit rock bottom, declaring to the my Heavenly Father that I couldn't do it anymore. I was done.
I was exhausted, watching my friends and family members have children all around me and feeling terrible that they had to walk on eggshells around me. That wasn't fair to them...it wasn't their fault. What was worse was the feeling that I had spent so much time worrying about having a child that I had in many ways neglected the one I had right in front of me. I was consumed with this need to win. To prove that I was normal. That this was not happening and we just hadn't found the right "trick" yet.
I needed to heal, whatever the outcome. I didn't have any more time to waste and I had a child who needed a sane mother, one who was focused on him, right here and now. It was at that moment that I decided to stop actively "trying" to conceive and focus my energy on something else completely, in hopes of allowing my mind and emotions a real break. My husband and I started the Body-for-Life challenge and I put everything I had into it, refusing to do anything fertility related.
It was a welcome reprieve. Even though in the back of mind I had thoughts of the weight loss challenge creating better circumstances for conception, I fought to chase them away, focusing on completing the challenge for me and for my mind. The challenge ended in April of 2009, but it was enough to clear my mind and create a chance for the Lord to enlighten me. He blessed me with very personal insight into my divine destiny, choices I'd made in the pre-existence, and the nature of this particular trial. As these revelations are sacred to me I don't feel compelled to go into detail here, but it was at this point that my husband and I went to the Bishop to talk about adoption.
Honestly? In this first meeting I was skeptical about whether or not this was the right thing for us. I felt like I was just giving up and adoption was the last thing on our list of options. Wasn't that what good LDS people were supposed to do when they couldn't have children?
I decided to look into it and take things one little step at a time, digging deep into what I really felt about it and not allowing social expectations to dictate our decision. The further I walked along the adoptive path, however, the greater my conviction that the Lord had guided us to this point. Yes, there was nothing wrong with us and our ability to have a child, but had infertility not been a part of our lives, we'd have missed stumbling upon a very important branch of our family tree; a branch we have yet to meet, but feel solidly is there. I still have moments of doubt, that perhaps we were intended all along to be a family of three. I'm okay either way.
We started the application process in April 2009 and just last month (January 2010) we were approved to be adoptive parents. It was a long, drawn out road just to be accepted and I am weary that our wait for a child may be even longer...or non-existent. I have faith that we are doing the right thing, but I've learned not to determine my own outcome. The Lord knows what will be and what will best prepare me for whatever may present itself in the future. Perhaps I am simply to go through this process for knowledge and experience, or perhaps, there is a precious child predestined to be a part of our family, but chosen to be a part of someone else's life first. My eyes are but mortal, and so I must have faith in my Father in Heaven to see the eternal picture and guide us in our placement of the puzzle pieces.
Where I Stand...
I am one of the lucky and one of the unfortunate. I am neither here nor there. I can sympathize with both sides, and still not fully understand either. I am a misfit, completely unqualified to speak on behalf of anyone but myself.
Fertility and infertility each have their own refining qualities, unique to the individual who experiences them. However, though very different the experience and the emotions involved, I believe the lessons are very similar. Each circumstance, in it's own way, teaches us patience, compassion, reliance on the Lord, humility, divine predestination, agency, and love; love for a child, love for ourselves, love for our spouses, and love for the Lord. Both roads are extremely difficult in their own right. Be compassionate towards both, as well as those who may never have the chance to discover the trials and joys of motherhood in either respect. Do not underestimate the power of the lessons learned on the road you may travel. We are women. We are divine. We are unique. We are strong.
And so I walk the fence. I ride two horses with one bum, far from expertly, but I'm holding on believing with a sincere conviction that the Lord loves me. He knows my heart. He has a plan and if I am willing, He will lead me to do His work and bless others as He has blessed me.
