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Early in our workup, we felt relieved when each test came back normal. But as more and more tests showed normal results, I began to worry. I knew that in about 10% of infertile couples no cause for the problem is ever found. I also knew that this group has one of the poorest chances for ever achieving a pregnancy. You can't fix what isn't broken.
By the third year of trying to conceive, we were being offered very little encouragement by the specialists. And as our hopes for a biological child dimmed, we began to grieve in earnest. Each menstrual period touched off rage and depression. Every baby I saw made me acutely aware of the emptiness in my belly and in my arms. But the worst times were when a friend or relative would announce a pregnancy. And it seemed that all my friends from high school and college were having babies and sending baby pictures. The biggest depression came when Mike's sister-in-law got pregnant, the first grandchild in Mike's family. He kept the news to himself until he thought the time was right for a storm to break - and it did.
The full force of our infertility hit home, literally, when we made a special trip to tell our parents that we would probably not be giving them grandchildren. I found out several years later that Mike's parents thought we were coming to announce that we were pregnant, since we had let on some time before that we were trying. So it was even more remarkable that they kept what must have been a great disappointment from showing. We all cried a little, and for the first time in a long time, Mike and I felt absolutely accepted - even though we were infertile.
The next day, however, has become famous in our family lore. Mike and I went to church with his parents and, wouldn't you know it, they had scheduled an infant baptism. At Mike's church, baptisms are a big deal. The minister takes the baby in his arms and carries her around the sanctuary, introducing the baby to her new church family. But on that occasion, this loving ritual was only a reminder of a blessing that I couldn't have. I found myself crying. And I don't mean just a few discrete tears, but boohooing. To make matters worse, we were sitting right in the front of the church, so I couldn't just ease out. I sat there and cried - with people passing Kleenex and handkerchiefs to me - until the parents finally took their beautiful baby away.
© Jean W. Carter and Michael P. Carter
Credits: Perspectives Press
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