There is so much I never expected in this life.
To experience infertility. To lose a child. To be chosen by a donor family that
initially were strangers and are now considered family. Although it has become
something that is a part of our story, I know it is such a rarity, especially
when you factor in what we share in our relationship. From the first
connections we shared they have set us at ease and have been a constant support
and encouragement in our lives. I always cherish the emails shared with them,
but this week our donor mother sent me one of the most beautiful letters, and
with her blessing I’m sharing it below. Be prepared, it’s likely you won’t get
through reading it without tears; I certainly didn’t!
Rebecca - please know that not for one
second since this process began have I regretted our decision. You are - and
were always meant to be - the mother of these babies. I will never be able to
adequately express what an immense blessing you are in my life.
I am 41 1/2 years old. Sometimes I have
to say it out loud for it to seem real, but alas it is true. Some days I feel
ancient, and other days I feel like my life is just beginning. It does seem
like the older I get, the faster time is passing me by. It seems like just
yesterday I was 23 years old, married, with three little girls under the age of
five. As it is, I am still married (although to a different, incredibly amazing
man), now with FIVE children ranging in age from (almost) 22 to 4. GOOD GRIEF.
The one prevailing theme that has seemed
to govern my entire life is this - everything happens for a reason. I shouldn't
have been pregnant at the age of 18! I had big plans for my life! But when I
imagine a world without my Brittany, well, it's just not a world I'm interested
in living in. Everything happens for a reason. I certainly wasn't supposed to
be pregnant with baby #2 when baby #1 was less than a year old! Now I look at
my Ashlie, an honor student at the University of Pittsburgh, and can't find words
to express my pride. Everything happens for a reason. THREE babies? While still
under the age of 25? Oh, but you haven't met my Andie. A drama queen and
princess through and through. About to graduate high school, cheerleading
captain four years running. Everything happens for a reason. Fast forward to
the age of 30. Single mom. Unplanned pregnancy. It can't be! Didn't I learn my
lesson? Then I looked into the beautiful blue eyes of my Nathan. My little
sonshine. The light of my life. Everything happens for a reason.
Four beautiful babies. Relatively no
complications. Tubes tied. I am grateful.
Fast forward again. I finally meet my soul mate, the love of my life, at the tender age of 34. Everything happens for a reason. I pledge my eternal love, but tell him babies are not meant to be. Having no children of his own, however, we decide to explore IVF. Everything happens for a reason. Almost two years later, we are the proud parents of a perfect baby girl. Miss Ava. Our little princess. Indeed, everything happens for a reason.
Fast forward again. I finally meet my soul mate, the love of my life, at the tender age of 34. Everything happens for a reason. I pledge my eternal love, but tell him babies are not meant to be. Having no children of his own, however, we decide to explore IVF. Everything happens for a reason. Almost two years later, we are the proud parents of a perfect baby girl. Miss Ava. Our little princess. Indeed, everything happens for a reason.
The day the letter arrived. It will go
down as one of the most momentous days of my life. What to do with our
remaining 6 embryos. Very little consideration is needed. They need a home.
They need a chance at life. They need a family.
Everything happens for a reason.
We were given avenues to explore. Options to research. There is not so much as a single doubt in my mind that this was a time of divine intervention. God led me to Miracles Waiting. And God led me to the parents of these children.
We were given avenues to explore. Options to research. There is not so much as a single doubt in my mind that this was a time of divine intervention. God led me to Miracles Waiting. And God led me to the parents of these children.
Everything happens for a reason.
My life is an incredibly full one. I am
blessed with an amazing family, an unbelievable network of friends, a wonderful
career, a loving husband, and the five greatest blessings I could have ever
imagined. To deny another couple the same chance at parenthood was not
something I could fathom. To deny (what I still considered at that time) MY
babies a chance at life was not something I could or would accept.
Upon learning that transfer #1 was a
success, I felt a range of emotions. Everything from excitement to fear to
anticipation. But not one of those was regret. I prayed that God would see me
through and trust his plan. Upon learning it was a boy, I felt sadness. Sadness
for my husband who would never know the joy of raising his own son. And just
for a moment, sadness for my Ava. That she would grow up not feeling the pride
of being an older sibling. Indeed, for many years to come, not even know she
had a full biological sibling to speak of at all.
As pictures started to come in, I started analyzing every little detail. And while there were certainly similarities to be observed, I silently praised God that the differences between Ian and Ava were just enough that I didn't initially feel that "pull" that I feared. That I didn't see so strong a resemblance that it caused my heart to hurt. Sure enough, however, as time goes by, the resemblances start to become more prevalent. Sometimes in unexpected ways.
I look at Ian's mop of blonde hair, and see my younger brother at that age. In some photos, the resemblance is uncanny. Ian's uncle. But not really. I see pictures of Ian running around with bare legs, and can think only of what I refer to as my husband's "chicken legs." Ian's daddy. But not really. I see Ian's big blue eyes and see Nathan. Ian's brother. But not really. And finally, I see the shape of his sweet face, his smile. And I see Ava. His big sister. But not really. This is a process. I'm still learning.
As pictures started to come in, I started analyzing every little detail. And while there were certainly similarities to be observed, I silently praised God that the differences between Ian and Ava were just enough that I didn't initially feel that "pull" that I feared. That I didn't see so strong a resemblance that it caused my heart to hurt. Sure enough, however, as time goes by, the resemblances start to become more prevalent. Sometimes in unexpected ways.
I look at Ian's mop of blonde hair, and see my younger brother at that age. In some photos, the resemblance is uncanny. Ian's uncle. But not really. I see pictures of Ian running around with bare legs, and can think only of what I refer to as my husband's "chicken legs." Ian's daddy. But not really. I see Ian's big blue eyes and see Nathan. Ian's brother. But not really. And finally, I see the shape of his sweet face, his smile. And I see Ava. His big sister. But not really. This is a process. I'm still learning.
And now, baby girl arriving this summer.
Sweet, precious baby girl. I wonder every day what she might look like. How
strongly she might resemble Ava. Her big sister. Only not really. This is a
process. I'm still learning.
In my heart, and in my soul, Nick and
Rebecca are the parents of these children. I know it, I accept it, and I will
be eternally grateful for it. But do I wonder? Yes. Have I imagined another
life? Yes.
But....everything happens for a reason.
The beautiful reality is this. I still
get to watch them grow. See them blossom. Celebrate their accomplishments from
afar. And love them with every fiber of my being. And oh - how very, very much
I love those babies.
As someone who views themselves first as
a mother, above all else, I will share the dream that gets me through the difficult
moments. The moments when I mourn the fact that I did not carry these babies.
That I was not present in their lives each and every day. That I did not get to
smell their sweet smell and whisper I love you's in their ear.
I imagine a day - years and years from
now - when my babies are grown. When I am bouncing grandbabies on my knees and
thanking God for giving me such a rich and full life. A day when I look around
and am surrounded not only by the babies I gave birth to and had the joy of
raising. But surrounded too by the babies who were conceived by me out of love,
and raised selflessly by the people who pledged to be their parents.
I know in my heart that that day will come. And as I look
around, I imagine I will be thanking God...that everything happens for a
reason.
