Friday, 23 February 2018

The struggle to have a child and be a parent...

Here is an excerpt from by book: 'Holding the Baby Dream'. This piece comes from Chapter 31 - Dear River, pg. 161.

When I was growing up there was not even a whisper that I might not be able to have a child. No one ever warned me that I might not be able to have a child grow inside me and watch it grow into an adult. No one ever warned me that I might not be a mother or a grandmother. Maybe, just maybe if someone, somewhere, at some stage of my childhood had said to me, ‘Not every woman can have a child of her own,’ perhaps this blow would not have been quite so life-altering.

            I knew it would have been difficult to understand, as no-one ever sees themselves as the unlucky minority. If I had known that it could be a possibility, it would have made my situation easier to understand.

            Even when I was doing round after round of IVF, at no time did the doctors ever say I may not be able to have a baby. They did ask me after four rounds of IVF if I wanted to quit; as they unceremoniously pointed to where the tissues were, as I cried. However, they never once warned me that IVF might not work the way I planned.

            The women around me kept getting pregnant two, three, and four times. Even the ones who were also fertilely challenged had miracle babies after a few goes. I just assumed as the cycles ticked by, that it wasn’t the right time for me yet. I thought the little Spirit meant for us was just dragging its heels. I never assumed I would not be a mother. I believed that if I endured five rounds of IVF before I was blessed enough to fall pregnant, then nothing would or could go wrong after that. I naively trusted that the universe would not be so cruel.

            The journey to parenthood…I could not believe it differed so much for different people. I did not understand the karma some may have accumulated, or the lessons others needed to learn. It seemed random. There appeared to be no logical reasons to me why some women, young girls of fourteen or fifteen became mothers and were granted the miraculous gift of a pregnancy and a baby; when those, like me who had thirty years of dreaming and preparation time, were robbed of the same blessings.

            I was aware of how strong I was. Perhaps this was why I had been given these lessons. I didn’t completely understand how God entrusted some of the beings here on earth with children and let others miss out. Wouldn’t the ones who missed out also love a child more intensely than the wildest thunderstorm and more gently than the smallest breeze?

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Love and Blessings,
Narelle Hudson.

Mothers Day as a childless woman.

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