Someone in a forum I read said this to a fellow infertile who was feeling discouraged: “‘Happy endings’ happen for a lot of people, there is no reason they shouldn’t happen for you, too.”
No reason beyond, y’know, the reason we’re all here.
But still. It’s worth remembering.
I’m scared of the transfer. No, not the transfer – but what comes after it. The waiting, the fear, the disappointment, the crushing sadness. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this.
Last Sunday, I went to a free music festival in a park. It was a little crowded; a young mom and her toddler daughter sat down near me. Ordinarily, all the babies and little kids would be tough for me to deal with, but the weather was beautiful, and in this case, I was secretly glad the mom sat down near me.
Two things were obvious: the little girl was her daughter, and by virtue of their obviously different racial backgrounds, her daughter was adopted.
I don’t know their story. Maybe the woman had always wanted to adopt rather than conceive and carry. Maybe she’s a lesbian and her partner bore the child. Maybe she struggled with infertility before adopting. Regardless, they have a story. And that was comforting.
So was listening to her parent. The little girl had taken off her shoes and was walking all over her mom. “Ouch, sweetie. Don’t stand on my kneecap like that, you’re hurting me,” she told the girl kindly.
They’re a family. Like any other, just with a little extra story.