How do we learn to let go and trust (again)?
February 25, 2009 | By: Liz | Filed under: Thinking Out Loud
It’s been an interesting week. I’ve had a bunch of clients with major and/or unusual problems (I think there is something definitely wrong with the planetary alignment this month) and some clients who’ve “opted -out” altogether, choosing different routes to parenthood that don’t involve my office. The universal sentiment I am hearing from everyone, however, is pain, despair . . . a sense of overwhelming hopelessness in their quest to become a parent. I feel awful for them and I don’t know how to help. I can commisserate, but is that enough?
I remember it well. I still feel it sometimes. Someone responded to one of my blogs asking me not to be angry that I am infertile. I think she missed the point of my blog; my infertility and my anger has become an empowerment for me. I have a new career and a new life that I never would have been blessed with but for the fact that my body cannot carry a baby. But with the anger are little pieces of sadness that never go away. Memories of miscarriages, anniversaries of a baby that went back to his birth mother (next week, can I hide under the covers and not come into work? Years later it still hurts that badly!). Those things never go away. How do we get past that and learn to let go of the pain and sadness and trust again?
Because good things do happen. Egg donation and surrogacy are hugely succesful avenues toward parenthood. Success rates for egg donation are astronomical when compared to the average fertile myrtile’s ability to conceive. Adoption is guaranteed. As long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other you will get a baby. I know. 7 attempted IVF cycles, 9 miscarriages, 2 failed adoptions including one disrupted adoption, but I am the proud mother of two beautiful children.
But what happens when we can’t put one foot in front of another? What about those days where we want to hide under the covers? I am wrestling with this one myself. I understand the pain my clients are feeling. Next week is going to be a tough week for me. It’s only memories now though . . . I got through it . . . something got me through all the ups and downs until I brought my babies home forever. Somehow I managed to find enough faith in one minute, faith to get me to the next minute and to the next and the next . . . I wish I knew what it was that got me through . . . I wish I had a magic pill or a secret that I could share that would get us through the really god-awful, why-is-this-happening (or why did this happen) to me days? But I don’t have any secrets.
All I can do is listen and remember, or as the case may be, re-live the memories. But I don’t know if that’s enough. With all I can do as a lawyer (and a writer), sometimes I feel completely helpless to help . . . .