My Busted Stork

The travails of an infertile…and no, I won’t just relax!


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This made me cry

As I am semi-anonymous online (blog and forums) I tend to bitch about friends who have at times been ignorant and insensitive to my situation. All of my friends have babies now so besides W I don’t have too many people to bitch to in real life so I pour all my hurt and frustration out online whenever I need to. Although I know my friends love me I know that they don’t understand me and I completely forgive them for that because how could they? But once in a while, besides all the platitudes and the “it will happen one day” a friend can really cut through with a REAL message of support.

An old friend of mine sent me a letter with a poem attached. She had actively searched online for something meaningful to say to me and what she found really touched my heart. This poem might be widely known in Infertile circles but this was the first time I had read it.

I suppose some people will be offended by the sentiment but right now I don’t care.

Thoughts on Becoming a Mother
(author unknown)

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.I will be better not because of genetics, or money, or that I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed. I have endured and planned over and over again. Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.

I will notice everything about my child. I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold, and feed him, and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot, or cry tears of a broken dream.  My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense:  that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.  Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured.

I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend, and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment, as I have been betrayed by my own body.

I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.

I have succeeded.

I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely.

I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and that life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.