Accepting Infertility: “All endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.” ― Mitch Albom

“Let us learn to accept ourselves,
accept the truth that we are capable in some directions
and limited in others,
that genius is rare, that mediocrity is a portion of almost all of us,
but that we can contribute from the storehouse of our skills
to the enrichment of our common life.”
– Joshua Liebman

Having recently returned from my appointment with a new OBGYN, I am working to move myself into a place of acceptance.

My body began betraying the natural cycle of a woman’s body at the age of 34. And today, having just turned 36, I find that it is time for me to accept myself, to accept that I am capable in some directions, and limited in others.

To accept that the hot flashes, night sweats, and irregular ovulation may subside at times, however they will all return. My body is shutting down its capacity to create from my womb.

Yet I can’t help but wonder, as I simmer in the sadness that comes with moving to an acceptance of this reality, what beginnings may come from this ending.

Will the creative force so wrapped up in my womb be unleashed into my head, into my heart, into what I bring forth from each into the world? When will I know how this epic ending will lead to an epic beginning?

Acceptance is no easy feat. We have the option to run, to hide, to sidestep, to search for miraculous cures, to beat our bodies into the ground with one attempt to race with the clock after another. Yet, in the end, should all these attempts fail, we are left only with acceptance.

Our bodies are limited in their capacity. Each was designed by a creator’s hand to bring forth certain things into the world. I doubt I will ever understand the “logic” behind why some women can bear more children than they can love, care, and provide for, and others cannot sprout one fertile seed from their otherwise healthy body.

Perhaps it is not meant to be understood, or the grand design is so much greater than our simple search for reason can encapsulate.

Yet in the end, does it really matter?

In the end, we are always left with the hand we have been dealt. For me, not so good at poker seems to equal not so good at baby making.

I am however a wonderful lover of everything I take into my heart, a deeply devoted friend, a wife who would move mountains for her husband, a daughter who genuinely understands and appreciates the gifts of her mother and her father, and a woman whose mind can be stretched to achieve great heights. And one day, I will be an incredible mother to a daughter who comes from my heart.

So today I am prepared to accept that this ending IS a beginning. I am prepared to accept that although my body is closing down the baby factory ten years before it is suppose to, it is only because a larger, more phenomenal multiplex is opening down the block on the corner of heart and soul.

It is in this acceptance, with a raw heart, that I am finally finding my peace.


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