'women hang their superhero capes on the hook of life-giver. sometimes it's hard not to feel broken.' -fpfg
every now and then i'm in a crowd. at a girls night. stumble into a conversations. and i sit quietly. or i back out, trying to go unnoticed. i don't want to hear about it. i don't want to talk about it. there's a word that goes with my body that i don't ever use. other people may say it. but i don't feel it. and so i don't use it as my description.
i have friends who say they are infertile. the struggle (or struggled) with infertility. i wrestled for a minute. but i don't struggle with it. i love the children we have been given. i am okay with the fact that all of my children will grow in the womb of another woman. and so i don't use the word infertile to describe us.
but, God help me, when i hear those warrior stories of childbirth, it does something to my heart. it whispers something in my ear.
'you are less than. you can't bring forth life. you are broken. you are not a complete woman.'
and i read this post a while back. it's the only post about infertility that has ever brought me to tears. most of the time i relate to nothing. numbers. hormones. shots. i did none of that. i have no desire to go through the pain of it. emotional. or physical.
but feeling like God had a different plan for my life. absolutely. i can relate to that to the very depth of my soul. my heart rejoices in this.
as i sit silently in those conversations. listening. feeling awkward. i realize i don't have a war story. i didn't fight and use my body to bring my children into this world. instead, i filled out paperwork. and sat through interviews. i had my house looked at to make certain it was an acceptable environment. i made a profile in hopes that some woman who was pregnant might read it and find me worthy of parenting her child.
and i think back to sitting in mcdonald's with my big's tummy mommy. laughing. her amazed at my ability to put away a big mac. me amazed, at her ability to selflessly ask me to be her 'baby mama.' i think of her smile. her heart. and her large round abdomen. i remember the birth, the hospital stay, and the goodbye. i definitely remember the goodbye.
i have the vivid picture of sitting in a mexican restaurant with little's tummy mommy. her mom by her side. how nervous she was. how much she wanted us to understand why she was making this choice. and how her eyes stayed wet with tears the whole time we were there.
so forgive me if i seem uninterested in your birth story. don't be hurt by it. i'm trying to live in a place where i remember what big and little's mommy's saw in me. these women saw something that so many others can't. they don't see me as broken. they don't see me as infertile. they see me as a life-giver. to the children they gave life to.