This week is Infertility Awareness Week. Did you know? I didn’t until I saw it on Facebook. But years ago I would have known. I would have been the poster woman for infertility treatments. Stomach like a pin-cusion, bruised arms from bloodwork, waving my sign for better insurance coverage and more research. And then our treatments finally worked and I moved onto the next phase of causes with the next phase of our life, as we all tend to do.
There is one part of infertility we are still linked to and I still get questions about from time to time, although not as often as in the past.
As soon as people found out there was more than one baby inside my exploding stomach I was bombarded with questions:
Are they natural?
Will you have help?
Are they boys? Girls?
And then the completely inappopriate comments:
I would shoot myself if I was pregnant with triplets.
So are you giving a few away?
And then the question that I have thought about often over the years…
Will you tell them they were IVF babies?
As they grow and I successfully put off the Where Do Babies Come From conversation, I often think about what I will say.
Will I tell them I dreamt of being their mom from the moment their daddy proposed?
That months of hopes turned into years of desperately waiting to grow our family?
That we buried ourselves in blood tests and medications and charts and appointments in hopes of pink or blue?
That I cried tears of shock and joy in the parking lot of our doctor’s office after seeing three little beans on the ultrasound screen?
That their daddy tried to entertain my days on bedrest by attempting to balance three of pretty much anything in his arms, just to show his deft skills at triplet-care?
That I held my breath every time the doctor entered my hospital room because I loved them so fiercely?
That when they entered this world I couldn’t imagine loving them anymore than I did at that very moment and when I think back to the struggles of bringing them into this world I know, without a doubt I would do every step of it all over again?
Yes, I think I will.
Where they came from has nothing to do with a petri dish or the doctors office we pass every time I head to our favorite market.
It has everything to do with my dreams of motherhood and the breathtaking way they fulfilled them.
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