Space for Grief: Fear

And here, all these years later, when I would like to say that I’ve left this struggle behind, honesty dictates a different story.  In the eyes of some, having a baby after infertility is like a pat on the back, “See, there there, it’s all better now. ”  In some, cuddly, late night, staring-with-wonder-at-your-sleeping-babe-moments, it most definitely is.  And sometimes I am simply filled to overflowing with gratitude for the grace that has been offered to me in this precious, small, blue-eyed child.  Other times, I’m gripped with a painful awareness because I’ve joined the sisters who know.

During the years before we heard little feet bounding around upstairs, we didn’t know the feeling of being forever changed as we peered into the face of a little bundle of screaming pink for the first time.  We didn’t know what it was to tentatively venture into the front door for the first time, holding our very own baby.  We didn’t know what it was like to graze the top of a sweet-smelling bald head with a kiss in the wee hours of the morning.  We didn’t know the sweet sound of “Dada” happily emitted from a gap-toothed smiling face, or the pride that comes from watching wobbly steps become speedy runs.  We’d forgotten the simple joys nature offered in the form of acorns or dirt and ladybugs.  We didn’t know how much glee could be exchanged in a glance between us over the head of a three-year-old full of stories to tell.  But now we do.  And because we do, we vacillate between just treasuring this sweet miracle that wanders around our house everyday and petitioning heaven for more.  It feels selfish, again, to want.  How can we possibly ask for more than this?  And it feels scary, because a different kind of loss is at stake.  And yet, we find ourselves flirting with the idea in a word here and there.  This time though, we have an idea of what we stand to gain and whenever we do venture through that door, we’ll do it with some experience and awareness under our belts which changes things.  Kind of a lot.


8 thoughts on “Space for Grief: Fear

  1. Thank you for being willing to share your experience with us, and allow us to glimpse into what things have been like for you, and helping me to learn through your experiences. 🙂

  2. My heart breaks for you because of this weight on your heart. Even though I have not walked in your shoes, I can understand and remember what it’s like to want a baby and not have it go the way it’s supposed to. Once you become a mother your thrust into this world of self awareness and realization. While each of our stories is different, and unique to us, as mothers we all have the same fears when it comes to pregnancy…Is it the right time, do we have enough money, is my body up for being pregnant again, am I even going to make it through a pregnancy, will anything go wrong, will the delivery go ok? It’s truly a scary world entering into motherhood. It is one of the BIGGEST gambles we mothers take and it leaves us vulnerable. I know situations like this can leave women feeling alone, but there are people out there that want to help, want to understand and be sensitive to your needs. I feel that if God has placed this need/want on your heart he will be gracious and make it happen, but we have to be open in excepting what His plan is. This is not to diminish the feelings you have, but to let you know you are not alone.

  3. I love this. I have had those same feelings. It was amazing to me when we were struggling with infertility how alone I felt but now I find so many others with similar struggles. We are so grateful with our two miracles that The Lord blessed us with but I admit I am selfishly wishing for another one although I don’t know if I can handle another six years of treatment. I think I am getting to old for that.

  4. Michelle, what a beautiful thing to say. Thank you for sharing your perspective and insight. I really appreciate your thoughts dear friend.

  5. Thank you for sharing a glimpse of your story. It does seem like much more friendly ground when I realize how graciously inhabited this space of infertility is. I can relate to having to take stock of a store of energy and assess whether it’s enough to maintain miracles or hope for more. It’s a slippery kind of decision.

  6. Thank you for sharing. I like what your friend Michelle said, and like her, I can relate in a way to your fears. There is most definitely a fear and vulnerability that comes with the decision to create life. Your description of how new life changes your own is so beautiful and true.

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