In the past few years, I’ve written a few blogs about my wife’s and my struggles with fertility.
Well, we’ve now entered legit miracle territory, because we’re expecting a little baby boy (more on how that initially f’d me up in another blog) at the end of this year!
If you’ve followed my work for some time you’ll know it didn’t come easy for us.
One of the deep heartbreaks I’ve been carrying for the past few years was the possibility of never seeing Silvy become a mother.
Not because I think women should become mothers. I honor every woman’s right to choose (or not choose) that for herself.
But after spending the last 10 years as the primary benefactor of the effortless love and sweetness Silvy radiates like the sun, and having been on a difficult journey with her through many years of trying to have a child together, of encounters with insensitive fertility doctors, a major surgery in the middle of vast Texas prairie, and yet more fertility doctors … well, holding the possibility that she might never have a wee one to pour all that love into has been a heavy sadness to bear.
Our grief journey has at times been made even more difficult by this modern world that doesn’t make space to grieve the loss of a child that never existed. Few people truly understand the real loss, and the profoundly real pain, that struggling with fertility can bring.
Rather than “hold onto hope” and “I know a healer you should talk to” as some well-meaning friends had counseled (’twas never helpful), instead my necessary path was learning how to fully let go of having a child with Silvy.
Just one year ago, to honor my own grief, I ritually buried the dream of having a child under an old Ash tree in Ireland during my Elevate Men’s Retreat. Surrounded by 16 men bearing witness to my heartbreak, I was fully able to honor our loss with a vibrant torrent of tears, and then allow that dream to gently dissolve back into the ethereal realms from which it had come.
This past April, having given up on the dream of our own child together, we decided to give baby-making one last shot.
We visited a few more fertility doctors who were genuinely great, and yet I left each meeting feeling as if I’d been defeated by life. It felt so heavy. Still, we were prepared to throw down $50k for a final 50/50 chance at birthing a child with genes borrowed from a third party.
Then a legit miracle happened.
Silvy just up and got pregnant. Naturally. With our child. After nearly 7 years of repeatedly failed attempts.
The period Silvy never got (because she became pregnant) was the period we were waiting to pass so we could insert a laboratory embryo into her womb. That’s how close we came to not having the child we’re pregnant with.
Now, surely, had we been gifted with a baby who’s genes we didn’t both share, that would have been a miracle, too, and we’d have welcomed that baby into our lives as the night sky welcomes the sun at dawn.
Life clearly had other plans, and it looks more and more likely that I’ll get to watch Silvy’s golden brown eyes shine her superhero love all over a little baby .. our little baby, very soon.
Seeing her pregnant, and making the most of every moment of it, is among the greatest gifts I could ever hope for her.
I want you to know that she’s walked this difficult journey to parenthood with wisdom and grace. She’s been courageous in the face of persisting adversity. She’s kept her heart open in the face of devastation. And she’s kept hopeful vigil for us both, when I couldn’t, when all seemed lost. Silvy is a woman who allows herself to experience the fullness of this life.
If life wills it, we’ll finally become parents as we enter our 12th year together, and I’ll be a first-time dad at 52.
To think I’m gonna get to see this little boy be loved on by an extraordinary mother is like a light turning on in a world that seems to be growing ever more dark.
It’s been a wild journey for us to get to this moment, through the lands of hope and devastation, so please celebrate with us!
♦◊♦
p.s. If you are on a difficult journey to parenthood, please know we feel you deeply and acknowledge your experience. Silvy and I are sensitive to this and will be sharing more about our journey in ways that hopefully offer support to you and loved ones who may be navigating the disenfranchised grief and complexities that can come with this path.