Letters to the Editor
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Letting go of a dream
Most of us have, inside of us, the picture of a perfect family. That all those perfect families look different from one another is incidental; the only picture that matters is your own. The others are nice — the ones of adoptive families, the ones of "child-free" families (mercy, I hate that phrase), the ones of foster families and accidental families and intentional relationships of all shapes and sizes — but they aren't yours. Mine isn't yours. The stories of all those people hear who've chosen differently than you will aren't yours either. You don't need to concern yourselves with them.
What you must do, I think, is determine how you will picture yourself now. That's different from determining what will happen to you, which you can't control. Giving up the idea of controlling your life is part of the healing process. How will you see yourself? As someone who failed to have children? As someone who's done the best she could with what she has? As someone who's taken what life has dished out and crafted a wonderful life?
Let me tell you a short story that doesn't relate specifically to children: Years ago, when I was very young, I "knew" (as we all do) what I wanted my life to look like. Over the course of many years of adulthood, much happened, and a great deal of it didn't exactly fit in with my plan. (I'm trying now to remember anything that did.) But recently I've looked around and realized that my life does look very much like the one I'd imagined, all grown up, because my steps had been in that general direction. Keep moving toward a life you can picture. As Ann Lamott wrote, breathe in, breathe out. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. One morning, I promise, you'll look around and discover that you've climbed out of the valley.
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Sympathies
My sympathies go out to the letter writer, as well as congratulations for clarity of thought. Congratulations to Cary as well.
Some of the less helpful responses in the letters put me in the mind of the following poem by Catherine Tufariello.
Useful Advice
You're 37? Don't you think that maybe
It's time you settled down and had a baby?
No wine? Does this mean happy news? I knew it!
Hey, are you sure you two know how to do it?
All Dennis has to do is look at me
And I'm knocked up. Some things aren't meant to be.
It's sad, but try to see this as God's will.
I've heard that sometimes when you take the Pill—
A friend of mine got pregnant when she stopped
Working so hard. Why don't you two adopt?
You'll have one of your own then, like my niece.
At work I heard about this herb from Greece—
My sister swears by dong quai. Want to try it?
Forget the high-tech stuff. Just change your diet.
It’s true! Too much caffeine can make you sterile.
Yoga is good for that. My cousin Carol—
They have these ceremonies in Peru—
You mind my asking, is it him or you?
Have you tried acupuncture? Meditation?
It’s in your head. Relax! Take a vacation
And have some fun. You think too much. Stop trying.
Did I say something wrong? Why are you crying?
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any child? then...
If you are truly able to love any child that enters your home, why not consider fostering? Yes: it can be difficult. Yes: it may not be permanent. But, adoptions via the foster care system are common. You may have to forgo the milk burps in favor of a milk mustache, but hey, you won't have to worry about SIDS and diapers. There are so many children of various ages that need the comfort, security, and consistency a stable and loving home can provide. It seems as though this is exactly what you have... So why not?
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think about this though
I had mixed feelings about this letter. Since I have a biological child I cannot say truthfully that I understand her pain, yet I have a very different kind of pain that, as a parent, the LW needs to consider. My son was born beautiful, presumably perfect and totally mine. Eight years later I toil daily, along with my mother who homeschools him, to reverse the damages that autism caused him. There was a time when the dream of holding my very own baby was the only one I had. The dream was complete, as it probably is for most expectant parents, with my child growing up happy, well adjusted, married some-day, providing me with further generations that would carry my blessed genes. That dream was so forgotten that this letter reminded me of that time. He will never have the life I imagined, and neither will I as a mother, having realized quickly that a child who cannot look me in the eye and say "mommy" would not provide me with the satisfaction I am sure so many other parents are provided with when they see their child succeed. Yet, I have learned to open my eyes to the tragedies that I have avoided instead of dwelling on what was supposed to be mine. I have met parents whose child is so ill they cannot eat on their own, cannot see, cannot move, or have died. Then I look at my little boy and realize there is beauty in every situation. The LW needs to know that indirectly she has provided me with much needed comfort, because my fear of having another autistic child has prevented me from having another child. I will never have another biological child, I just can't. I can't even think about it. I am so afraid. But since I was a very small child I always knew that I would adopt children. I have not started the long and grueling process, but it is time for me to begin. My point is that conceiving a child is not the happy ending. It is a beginning of a very difficult and emotional journey. Mine has just begun, but at this point I look forward to the rest of it with my own children, biological and adopted.