Our fortysomething wonders why some women are fertile while others are just not.
Jeanne Faulkner is a freelance writer and registered nurse in Portland, Ore. Her work appears regularly in Pregnancy and Fit Pregnancy, and she has contributed articles to the Oregonian, Better Homes & Gardens, Shape and other publications.
I have no first-person information about infertility. I'm on the opposite end of the spectrum: turbo-ovaries, imperviousness to all contraception. I have five children, and some were even planned. One is my niece, but for all practical purposes, she's my fourth daughter. The rest are biologically my husband's and mine. We're a minority, apparently--married with children all generated from the same genetic recipe (only one baby-daddy).
That's not unique, but one look around my daughter's second-grade classroom demonstrates that single parenthood, divorced parenthood and grandparenthood are prevalent, and I'm glad of it. Raising children is about the best teaching opportunity and gift life offers. I don't think it should be an exclusive opportunity just for the straight, married types. Most people want that gift. But for many, infertility is a real crisis. And some want it more the later in life they get started. Sometimes they get desperate. It's too big an opportunity to miss.
However, I don't think parenthood is for everyone. In my work as a labor and delivery nurse, I come across plenty of people with no qualifications for the job. Well, every first-time parent comes with limited experience, but it's the ones who should be disqualified that are so disturbing. They can barely wipe their own noses, yet they've signed on for the job of professional nose-wiper. They can't keep a job; manage a day without drugs, alcohol or violence; form a civil sentence that's meaningful and compassionate; and yet … they get pregnant.
You see them all over the place, screaming at their children, dragging their toddlers onto the bus at midnight with a cigarette in one hand and cell phone in the other. Then again, I saw a woman at the freeway off-ramp with a cardboard sign that read: "Baby needs to eat. Mom can't work." I hoped someone with the authority to really help that child would drive by and solve that sad problem. Sure, I could have called Children's Services Division, but I didn't. I don't know her situation. I don't want to judge. I've seen the tragedy of children (babies) being torn from their parents often enough to know it's a horrible, if sometimes necessary, thing to do.
It all makes me wonder why babies come so easily to some and not at all to others. I'm supremely lucky. I got more than my fair share, and I absolutely adore every one of them. I have friends, though, on either side of 40, who have not been so lucky. They waited until all conditions were perfect--the career, the house, the man and the timing. Now if they only had fertile sperm or eggs. Their desperation grows as each month produces a period instead of a positive pregnancy test.
Adoption is always a possibility, but they want their own. They want a pregnancy, birth, leaky breasts and a sore bottom. They want the whole enchilada as much as they want the beloved baby. It's primal, and they may have waited too long. When eventually they're resigned to the sad truth that there won't be a pregnancy, they feel one of the worst emotions around--regret. They regret having waited, that abortion they had in college, the years of conscious and responsible contraception. Eventually, many go on to adopt babies, and then, of course, love them as they would have if they'd given birth. The adopted bond is just as strong as the genetic bond.
One might say that fertility is proof that the universe works in random ways; there's no fate. You git what you git, so don't throw a fit (wise words chanted by preschoolers everywhere). Then again, who knows? Maybe there's some supreme wisdom determining who gets the babies and who doesn't. If that's true, could somebody ask that wise one why do folks who make such lousy parents get to have them, when those who'd make wonderful ones often don't?
Here's a list of families I loved handing newborns to: The Ukrainian family welcoming their sixth daughter. The young, crazy-in-love, newly married couple who were surprised by their pregnancy but pulled themselves together and made a warm home for their little one. The older professional couple who'd tried to get pregnant for five years--once they'd given up and filed paperwork for adoption, she got pregnant (she swears they didn't even have sex that month!). The single mother whose boyfriend left when she got pregnant--she has a job, a home and a bright future that will include her newborn, her own parents and a family of close friends. The 40-something gay couple adopting a long-awaited daughter from a 19-year-old college student.
Then there were the teenagers. They were rude, foul-mouthed, and out-of-control. They formed a tribe of young, uneducated, unemployed kids--average age 17--all with babies or pregnancies. Their plan for the future: get food stamps, live with their parents (who weren't all that stable themselves), and that's about it. Their future? What future? They had no plans beyond "Have the baby and. …"
If you're lucky enough to have children and a means of raising them well, count your blessings. You've been given one of the best gifts life offers. Don't squander it. If you raise them well, it's a gift that keeps on giving. If you don't have them and you want one, I hope the stork finds its path to your door … or that you open the door to a child who needs a home.
Comments