“Baby you, you got what I need. Baby you, you got my sunshine.”
– Joshua Radin
Acceptance is always a tricky thing. Regardless of the area in our lives where we have been called to find acceptance, the task is never an easy one.
When faced with the, what may feel insurmountable, burden of accepting that we may never conceive and carry a child, acceptance can feel tantamount to death.
Sometimes however, one dream must be set free in order to allow another to take root. And though we may think that acceptance means forever closing a door, right turns, left turns, 90 degree angles, black and white, and yes and no, are not the ways of nature.
When we are in sync with the rhythms of our body, and of the natural world, we learn that acceptance means letting go of the illusion of control and opening up to possibility, which lives in a rainbow of different colors.
Sink down, into the deepest, quietest, most hidden part of who you are. In that place ask the question, what now? Listen closely and carefully to the answer and open up to the miracles that are simply waiting for you on the other side of acceptance.
Accept that this body is your body, and it is beautiful and perfect in it’s imperfection. Accept that this struggle is your struggle, and it was given to you to bring you to your destiny. When you accept all of you, all of the abundance and lack within your being, you open up places once closed.
When mothering a child is your deepest desire, satiation often comes from an acceptance of a greater plan for how that mothering is to arrive. For some, acceptance will usher forth pregnancy of the body. For others, it will bring a clear path to pregnancy through adoption or foster. And for still others, acceptance will mean pregnancy through relationship to self and spouse, and a future of nurturing children who they do not call their own.
Regardless of the path laid out before you, acceptance is the doorway to enter into the sunshine of your future, and to the outstretched hands of your child.
For me, acceptance has made the face of my daughter even clearer, even brighter, and even closer. When I accept whatever path she chooses to come to me on, her little chubby hand reaches closer to my own and I feel her moving toward me.
Taking time to heal through acceptance may be one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself on the healing road of infertility. In acceptance we reach for the outstretched hand of our child, who has been patiently waiting just on the other side until we were ready to meet them.