Searching for answers about fertility

Most of you know that we adopted our sons when they were newborns. Recently, I had someone write to me to ask how I handled our infertility, and the monthly disappointment. It was one of those questions I had not considered in a little while- as a matter of fact, at my age I’m very glad for infertility. But every now and then, it sneaks up on me: “Why, Lord, didn’t you want to reproduce me and Lenny?” It happens at the oddest times. Sometimes, if I am in a time of quiet reflection, I can mull over the question. Other times, I must put it away in that place where my heart is ruled by better judgment, and proceed with the task at hand. But do I have an answer to the question?

The woman who wrote to me has a toddler, but she recently suffered two miscarriages. Hers is not so much a problem of infertility, but the results are the same. She and her husband are grieving with the end of each pregnancy. It’s increasingly hard for her to rejoice with her friends when they conceive. Baby showers are torture. Friends don’t know what to say, so they often say something that is not very helpful.

Lenny and I were given all kinds of advice: relax, eat oysters, and my favorite, untrue-ism, “adopt and you’ll get pregnant.” For every person who adopts and then has a baby, there are hundreds of couples who never conceive.

At no time in history have have humans had so much knowledge and ability, good or bad, to be in charge of fertility. It’s difficult to understand or accept the losses because we know so much about the process. I used to wonder why there were so many people who became pregnant over and over again when it was not in their plan. We all know women who conceive despite the best birth control. I had an older friend who went to the doctor on three separate occasions to get her tubes tied after five children, and each time she found she was pregnant. We cried together when she found out she was expecting her eighth. We both had a fertility problem.

If you know someone who is struggling with fertility or carrying a baby to full-term, the best thing you can do is just walk alongside. It doesn't hurt to ask if they want to talk about it. Never trivialize their grief. My young friend who wrote to me is going through some very real pain, which is magnified by constantly fluctuating hormones. I know that she has a grateful heart, and that someday this will all be a distant memory. But right now it can be tough, especially around Mother's Day.

We who have gone through these things belong to a sisterhood of suffering, but the pain does not last forever. And no, I don’t have an answer to the question about why God didn’t reproduce me and Lenny. I just know that He loves us. And the answer lies in that love.

Many of you have been wondering about our boys- the wonderful, wild children of our hearts. John, age 24, is “on the road” with another musician, and really enjoys it. They have been playing venues across Washington, Idaho, and Montana. While he pays his dues, I baby-sit Sugar, his boa constrictor. Lucky me. Several months ago John told me that a friend of his named Blake Lewis was going to win American Idol. John is usually pretty critical of other musicians, but he has nothing but admiration for Blake. It’s pretty cool that his Inglemoor classmate is doing so well.

Our Joe is living alone in Redmond. He is going through the normal 21 year-old stuff concerning broken hearts and jobs. He’s working hard to keep his apartment. Our relationship is always better when he’s not living at home. We see him often, and love him dearly. And I have inherited his dog.

It’s hard to imagine our lives without our boys. Being a mother has made me much more accepting, and far less critical than I might have been. All I can do is pray that our good traits have been reproduced after all.